Anxiety & the Therapist
Recently, my husband traveled for work, and I was left with an extended period of time by myself. At first, this felt really exciting. I ran errands and planned out how I was going to spend this time on my own. But soon the anxiety reared its head and sank its talons in, holding me in a vice grip of a rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath. I felt the overwhelming choke of being pulled under waves of hopelessness. I thought to myself, I’m a therapist. I know better than this.
I have had anxiety since the age of eight, although at that age, it showed up as my stomach hurting for days on end. I remember my dad driving me to school. We would get close, and I would say I was feeling too sick, so we would turn around and go home. My parents took me to doctors and specialists, and nothing was wrong. It passed after a week. Around this time, my parents were fighting a lot. I internalized a sense of instability and fear of the future, and my tiny body told me I was not safe. The world felt unpredictable, and I had to brace for whatever might happen.
As I got older, the anxiety showed up when I felt overwhelmed or stressed. During a bad relationship, when I knew something was off, I would become paralyzed with fear and stop eating, experiencing a gripping panic. If I had to have a difficult conversation at work, or something unexpected happened, I would be rocked by anxiety. I went to graduate school for social work and learned the clinical terms for what I was feeling. I went to therapy and learned to recognize my thoughts and investigate them, along with the emotional patterns and behaviors they shaped. I became a yoga teacher and learned to ground myself in the moment and breathe. I learned how to identify the ways I could calm myself and cope. I came to see anxiety as something like a chronic illness, something I could manage and live with, knowing it was not going to miraculously disappear.
I am now a therapist working with people who experience anxiety. Many of my clients experience the same symptoms I have. We talk about the thoughts that are coming up and the experiences that have contributed to the anxiety they feel. I teach mindfulness and grounding techniques.
This time, when the anxiety reared its head, I did all the things: yoga, exercise, deep breathing, tea, talking to my mom and my husband. It was still there. So I went outside. I took a walk by the ocean and felt the shells crunch under my feet and the sun on my face. I looked out at the vast expanse of blue-green water and took a deep breath.
The techniques I use with my clients are the same ones I use with myself. I do not have a magic wand or an eraser, and I cannot walk the path for you. But I can show you where it starts and walk alongside you, because I have been there. I have navigated the terrain and know where the boulders and fallen branches lie. I cannot take the anxiety away, but I can show you the vastness of the ocean and remind you of the feeling of the sun on your face and the wind in your hair.
Often, when we come to therapy, we hope someone will have the answers to help us “feel normal.” This idea of “normal” is something many of us quietly long for. But therapists are navigating their own journeys too, moving through challenges, joys, sorrows, and the full range of what it means to be human. Perhaps the hope is not to become “normal,” but to feel more seen. To hold each other, and ourselves, with a little more humanity.