Believe It Or Not, I'm Grateful For My Anxiety. Here's Why

The turning point in my relationship with anxiety came when instead of fighting my nature, I found strength in it. Philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti said it best: "If you begin to understand what you are without trying to change it, then what you are undergoes a transformation." My brain is wired toward fixating on tiny details, seeking impossible standards, and living inside my head.

A lot of anxiety festers in a social context. What does someone think about us? Did that person just ignore me when I waved at him? Social rejection is perceived as physical pain in our brain. Do I dare to say no, and if I do, will that person hate me? That dilemma becomes the perfect storm for eroding boundaries.

But anxiety fuels empathy, too. Because we know how terrible it feels to be treated a certain way, we bend over backward trying to help someone feel better or make life easier. In that, empathy becomes our kryptonite. Because we forget the most important thing—empathy for ourselves. And so we run dangerously close to empty.

The client who made the deepest impact on me was a 9-year-old girl. She had recurring migraines and severe anxiety. I invited her to draw what her heart and head said. Her head brandished a sword; she told me, "My head stabs my heart." Our hearts are crying to be heard. Anxiety evolved to protect us, to teach us to retreat so we can conserve resources and stay alive. Unfortunately, we silence our hearts with the sword of logic. Eventually, tension builds and we have outbursts and forget to listen to our own wisdom.

I recently mused with friends that perhaps growing up is learning to become cool with how uncool we truly are. Anxiety invited me to delve into my psyche, to examine the ideas I held that parts of me weren’t "acceptable" or "good enough." Sure, there are people who wouldn’t accept me for who I am—but that's OK. Maybe those people just aren't meant to be in my life.

And I know it’s difficult: At workshops, I often preface some exercises with the disclaimer that they’ll feel pretty uncomfortable being honest with themselves. Because let’s face it: I run away from my phone for days, especially when I wake up to 300 messages blinking at me.

Yet when I stopped escaping myself, I understood that it wasn’t that big or scary. So I like classical music, art, and am fascinated by the tiny minutiae in our cells. It’s possibly uncool, but I’m not anxious about that anymore. It is glorious being me. And I hope you realize how glorious you are just being you.