Anxiety for Dummies (Like Me)

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Anxiety. You know it when you’ve got it. Anxiety either builds gradually or drops on your head like a ton of bricks. There’s rarely a middle ground. You’re fine one minute, and the next, you’re not. Anxiety is very trendy right now. It’s the avocado toast of mental health issues. Everyone’s getting it – scientists say I’ve had it since Ronald Reagan’s first term. And let me tell you, it’s a blast. No, really. There's nothing like your brain waking you up at 3 AM to remind you of every awkward thing you’ve said since 1982.

Dealing with anxiety reminds me of having an annoying, overly dramatic roommate who’s always around, even though you never invited them to live with you. And they’re not paying rent, but they have opinions on everything. You’re just trying to live your life, maybe make a tomato sandwich, and Anxiety chimes in, “Oh no, are you sure you can handle mayo today? You remember what happened last time…”

Anxiety is that one friend who somehow finds a way to make everything into the worst-case scenario. Anxiety is, more often than not, as irrational as the decision to get a mullet. You’re at the grocery store, and suddenly, your brain says, “Hey, what if you don’t have enough money to pay for all this? What if your card gets declined? What if everyone in the store starts pointing and laughing at you? And what if the cashier grabs the mic and says, ‘Oh, look, it’s Mr. No Money!’ and then they throw you out of the store?” And you’re just standing there, holding a tomato, thinking, “I’m just trying to buy some vegetables, man.”

You know how ordinary people go to the doctor and ask, “Hey, I’ve got this thing; can you fix it?” Anxiety goes with me to the doctor, and I think, “This is it. They’re going to tell me I have a rare disease that only 0.1% of people get, and I’m going to be famous—not for a good reason, but for being the first person to die from it in 100 years. I need to get my affairs in order because I’m a goner.”

Anxiety is that weirdly specific voice that only chimes in at the worst times. You’re about to fall asleep, and suddenly, anxiety’s right there, “Hey, remember that awkward thing you said to someone three years ago? Let’s think about that for a while. Oh, and did you lock the door? What about the oven? Is the oven on? What if you didn’t turn off the oven, and now the house is on fire, and you’re lying in bed like a fool?”

Anxiety doesn’t just show up once. It’s as persistent as a fly in your house. You can swat it away, maybe even ignore it for a while, but it always comes back, buzzing around, reminding you of everything you should be worried about. You’re convinced, “I think I’m doing okay,” and anxiety isn’t so sure, “Are you, though? Really? Have you thought about everything that could go wrong today? Because I have a list.”

But you must deal with it, right? So, you try things. Maybe you meditate. But trying to meditate when you have anxiety is akin to trying to keep a cat still in a bathtub. You’re sitting there, focusing on your breathing, and your brain’s thinking, “Hey, what if meditation makes you more anxious? What if you’re doing it wrong? Are you breathing too fast? Too slow? Maybe you should Google it. But wait, what if Google gives you the wrong answer?”

You try to distract yourself. Maybe you watch a movie. But anxiety says, “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s see if we can find something to worry about in this movie. What if this character reminds you of someone you haven’t texted back yet? They probably hate you now. What if you’re wasting time watching this when you could be doing something productive? But then again, what if productivity is a trap, and you’re just playing into the capitalist system?”

And then there’s the “Live, Laugh, Love” people who say: “Just relax! Don’t worry so much!” Which is the same as telling someone on fire to “just stop being on fire.” Oh, cool, thanks! I’ll just choose not to be anxious anymore. Why didn’t I think of that? You should be a therapist.

Here is today’s spoiler alert: Anxiety’s not going away anytime soon, so you have to learn to live with it, like that annoying roommate who won’t move out. Maybe you give it a name, Kevin. And when Kevin starts acting up, tell him, “Kevin, chill out. I’m just trying to enjoy my day. Let’s compromise. I’ll listen to you for a bit, and then we’ll watch The Antiques Road Show and relax, okay?”

Because, in the end, you’re in charge. Anxiety’s there, sure, but you don’t have to let it run the show. You can acknowledge it, maybe even laugh at it sometimes. Because the truth is, we’re all dealing with our own little Kevins, and if we can find a way to manage that, we’ll be just fine.

This post is republished from Richard Bryant's blog Elevate the Discourse on Substack.