When I awoke this morning, the bear was in my bed. 

I knew that the bear didn't belong in my bed, but the bear didn't seem to know that. At the very least, the bear didn't seem to care. 

The bear had taken over almost all of the space in my bed, hogged the covers, and stolen my pillow. I was left squeezed between the wall and the mass of black fur, with little room to move, let alone breathe. 

Careful not to disturb my unwelcome companion, I climbed over the bear and headed to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I disliked what I saw. With dark circles under my eyes and my hair a mess, I dreaded having to go out in public and be seen. 

I blinked, and suddenly, the bear was there in the reflection. 

As I took my morning shower, the bear sat at the other end of the tub. The bear looked miserable, drenched in soapy water. It twitched uncomfortably as a bubble landed on its nose. 

"You don't have to be in here with me, you know," I reminded the bear. But the bear just glared back at me and growled, showing off its set of sharp teeth. 

After getting ready, I hurried into my car and headed off to work. The bear clambered into the passenger seat. Trapped with the bear in the tight space of my car, I could smell the bear's foul breath. It was overwhelming. I rolled down the window, trying to breathe in the fresh air. 

As I drove, I could hear the bear's steady breathing — a constant reminder of the passenger in my vehicle. I turned up the music, trying to drown out the noise. 

As soon as I reached the interstate, the traffic became horrendous. Staring out at the long lines of brake lights ahead, I tapped nervously on the steering wheel. 

To my right, the bear grunted. You are going to be late for work. 

"I know I'm going to be late!" I shouted over the music. But the bear just ignored me, as it stared disinterestedly out the passenger window. 

When I arrived at work, twenty minutes late, I scrambled to set up my workstation and begin my assignments. However, it was nearly impossible to focus with the near constant "ding ding" noise, notifying me that yet another email awaited me in my inbox. With every new ding my to-do list grew. 

On the other side of my cubicle the bear lounged in a chair, examining its long claws. You are never going to meet your deadlines. 

I tried to ignore the bear. The bear looked at me. Are you ever going to respond to those emails? 

Just then, my boss arrived. "Where are we at on the prepwork for Thursday's meeting?" he asked as he took a seat across from me. While the bear looked irritated at having been displaced from its spot in my cubicle, the bear appeared amused by my boss's question. I hadn't started prepping for Thursday's meeting yet, and the bear knew it. 

"Sorry, sir. I need a little bit more time to get everything together for Thursday," I admitted nervously. 

My boss said it was fine. But I wondered, was he disappointed? Would this impact my performance review? 

The bear shook its head, as if to scold me. You are not very good at your job. 

At noon, I headed into the lunch room. I looked around at the empty seats at tables with my coworkers, chatting happily about last night's reality show episode or their plans for the weekend. But I didn't want to sit with any of them. I didn't watch the same shows, so what would I talk about? I certainly wouldn't be invited to any of their weekend plans. 

I grabbed my lunch from the refrigerator and retreated back to my desk to eat. I had never been good at making friends, and I felt like I wouldn't ever, couldn't ever, fit in with my coworkers. 

Eating alone again? asked the bear. What will your coworkers think of you? I tried to ignore the question as I took a big bite of my sandwich. 

After what felt like an eternity, my day was finally coming to a close. I turned off my computer, walked out to my car, and I headed to my weekly appointment with my therapist. 

When I arrived at my therapist's office, the bear followed me into the room. I sat down on the worn green sofa, and the bear curled up by the window. A few minutes later, my therapist came into the room and sat across from me. 

She smiled at me warmly. "So, tell me, how has your anxiety been today?" 

I stole a glance at the bear sitting in the corner. "Well, it has been following me all day," I replied.

The bear looked me in the eye and winked.