Anxiety

Seesaw

I have this coping mechanism I use to protect myself from life’s disappointments. We’ll call it, the “worst-case-scenario” trick.

Like, if there’s a special party coming up, I will tell myself things that no one will show up, the food will be bad or not to my taste, they won’t have bottled water, someone will get hurt, it will probably be cancelled and so on…

Then, when the party happens and I have a nice time, my emotions rebound the opposite direction and I am basically elated. Or, when one of those things I don’t want to happen happens, then I get to say “I told you so…”

Protecting myself from being emotionally let down is something I can remember doing since before middle school. I guess you could say I have a fear of being disappointed. This obviously stems from my perfectionistic nature; the thought that if the party doesn’t go exactly the way I envisioned then it was a total wash. 

When I was seeing a therapist, tackling my fears was what we focused on. One of her suggestions for me was to actually play-out my worst-case-scenarios to see how scary they really were. She explained that by adding “and then what” to the end of all of my fear statements, I could help curtail some of my postpartum anxiety.

 For example, one of the things I was worried about was sickness (imagine that). More specifically, I was worried about the stomach flu taking me down, and then my family, and everyone I love. So, she asked, “So what happens if you get the stomach bug?”

“I’d throw up. Maybe several times. Maybe for a whole day. Maybe even several days…”

“And then what,” she prompted.

“Then I wouldn’t get to be around my family. I’d have to stay away from them and I’d miss time with my little boys.”

“And then what,” she urged me to continue. What did she know?

“I might’ve gotten one of them sick, particularly the baby….”

“And then…”

“I’d feel horrible, emotionally and physically. I’d have to nurse myself and the baby back to health while feeling pretty crummy.”

“That would be really, really hard,” she agreed, knowingly. “But, then what?”

“Then…” I stopped. I thought for a minute. I knew. “Then, we’d get better…. And maybe no one else would get it or maybe they would. So, I’d help them, and soon it would be over. And, I’d be tired, but it would be over.”

“Exactly. You may get it, but then you’d get through it. You can handle it,” she reassured me.

I can handle it? Yes, I can handle it. We can all handle it if we choose to handle it. In the end, the amount of time we’re impacted by a stomach bug is far less than the minutes, hours, and days we are well enough to enjoy the rest.

I’ve come to realize that my anxiety fuels itself on the unknown. So, my original coping mechanism doesn’t help things because it leaves me without strategy. If I go along with the spiral of my worry or concern and actually strategize how I’d handle it, there are far fewer unknowns in any given situation. 

I am reading Adam Grant’s book, Originals, right now. At the start, he prepares readers for examples of true original thinking by reiterating that maybe “calming down” isn’t what manages anxiety. Venting can actually back-fire when we’re angry. And, pessimism is sometimes more energizing than optimism.

The root is truth. Being truthful – with ourselves and with others – is what helps us keep perspective and forces us to face our emotions. Go ahead and feel them and then, let them go because emotions are only temporary. 

Focusing on simply calming down when we’re anxious is skipping the middle-part where we wrestle with what’s going on. It takes us away from the present where we tackle what’s actually causing us angst. Venting allows us to simply place blame and keeps us from the truth of the other side of the story. It allows to focus on ourselves and not what may really be going on, globally.

Let’s face it, the line between optimism and ignorance is like a seesaw. Acknowledging what’s real in the moment, seeing both sides, and saying “it’s not just about me” can keep us grounded. At least it does for me.