I get the better of my anxiety; not the other way around.

When you were learning to drive there was probably one junction you dreaded — a roundabout with poor sightlines, a hill start on a busy road.

You did not stop being afraid of it and then start driving it. You drove it while afraid, badly at first, then adequately, then without noticing.

Getting the better of something rarely looks like a victory. More often it looks like arriving anyway, slightly early, with damp hands.

Nothing in that requires the fear to have gone quiet first.