Sometimes, no matter what you do, anxiety wins.
Then it’s time to curl up in bed (or a closet), pull a blanket over your head, and take time out.
I used to think that doing this was a sign of weakness. I partially blame an ex for that belief. I’m not broken, I’m supposed to be like this. Now I know it’s just what I do to not be anxious any more. And I know I’m not the only one, which also helps.
I know my writing will still be waiting for me when it’s over, and have time to work on it again. Outside of something like NaNo, and even with it, the stories will always be there, no rush.