What if? Two wonderful words if you’re a dreamer. A creative. Someone who is bursting with great ideas that can’t wait to be shared. Two not-so-great words if you’re someone who suffers from anxiety. Two words that are kind of analagous to those two notes that comprise the theme from “Jaws” – bum, bum. Danger ahead.

As someone who has suffered from anxiety for almost all my life, “what if” has ranged from living in my subconscious, to becoming a more frequent visitor (buzzing like an annoying mosquito), to being front and center, the reference point for far too many of my decisions, actions, and reactions. What if I do X, and the result is disastrous? What if the world falls apart because I wasn’t on top of all that could go wrong? What if I take a chance and, as a result, the entire house of cards comes tumbling down? (Because what if all it really is, is nothing more than a house of cards? Oy.) What if, what if, what if.

What you may not know is that, at some point, too much “what if”-ing can lead to a tsunami of feeling helpless to move forward; to a storm of self-doubt and dread; to the need to blow the whistle and call a time-out. Which I needed to do a few days ago. A time-out to reset. To step back. To understand what is happening.

What sets anxiety into high gear? In my case, I’ve always been an anxious person, from the time I was a little girl – hiding behind my mother’s skirts (“Oh, she’s just shy” – not); being terrified of jumping into the pool at summer camp; fearing my parents dying if they took that trip on an airplane. The signs were all there, but, unfortunately, never dealt with – only avoided. Part of it was the times, I’m sure, when anxiety wasn’t recognized for what it was; part of it was just a lack of understanding of the situation; and part of it was having a mother who suffered her own kind of anxiety but never treated it. Was my anxiety nature or nurture? Yes.

Over the years I’ve been given conflicting sets of guidance by more than one therapist and doctor, probably because the right treatment for anxiety is different for everyone who suffers from it. What works for one person may not work for the next. And it takes time to figure it out.

For example, one theory offered was that generalized anxiety is due to a chemical imbalance in the brain, one that medications can help. I tried that for a very long time, with what turned out to be too high a dosage, making me feel just awful. Then I was told that no, that wasn’t the way to look at it, and that anxiety ought to be treated with a regimen of cognitive relearning – when you’re anxious, divert your thoughts and attempt to meditate it away. But for someone like me, a born-and-bred neurotic New Yorker, every attempt at meditating or self-focusing or closing out the noise only results in more anxiety (What’s that strange sound I’m hearing now that it’s so quiet – is the refrigerator broken? How much longer do I need to try to focus on emptying my mind – has it really only been 30 seconds? And why does trying to clear my mind only result in it feeling even more full of worry?).

And so I’ve muddled along through life as best as I could, which is what a lot of people (even those who aren’t anxious) do. But I never really did the the work to tame the beast properly in a way that worked for me – I did just enough to get by. Apparently, though, just getting by is just not enough.

To wit: over the last several months, particularly, anxiety was nipping at my heels, to the point where over the past few days it reached a crescendo and I realized that the aforementioned time-out was necessary. We had been planning a 16-day, 3000-mile road trip from LA up to Canada and back again, with a departure date of later this month. I’d been preparing and researching our vacation, all the while dealing with a ton of outside stress from various different life challenges (we all have those).

That was the straw that made the camel say, “You know, my back really, really hurts.” I woke up a few days ago and told B. that I just couldn’t do the trip. It was overwhelming and terrifying – too far away for too many days. “What if you or B. get sick so far from home?” the anxiety beast taunted. “What if the car breaks down along the way? What if you get so far from LA and can’t get back? What if something happens to B. and you’re left there all alone? What if you’re in the middle of a 9-hour driving day and can’t breathe in the car?” What if, what if, what if. Again.

Time out. After hours of crying over the cards falling around my head, hours of being horribly disappointed in myself, hours of B. being the amazing support that he is, and hours of feeling like s**t, I finally realized that the the only way through this is to take a deep breath and finally address the beast for what it is. A f**king pain in the ass and something to be tamed in order to be conquered. It was time to realize that no, I’m not a screw-up, but yes, I need to take the time to learn what I need to do and how to do it. What I do know is that, for me, attempting to meditate or knit or distract anxiety away just won’t work. Like so many other things in life, I’ve got to recognize it, acknowledge it, and work through it to get past it. And so the work begins anew.

I share this account for many reasons. First, in the hopes of letting you know that anxiety disorder is not simply feeling nervous about something, even though so many uninformed people may minimize it that way: “You’re such a nervous Nellie. What do you have to feel anxious about?” or, “You’re always flitting around taking care of everything – it’s just a lot of energy,” or, my favorite, “You just need to calm down.” Yeah, no. It’s an illness and deserves that kind of acknowledgement.

Second, know that anxiety can inhibit, restrict, and just plain suck the joy out of life. Think about it – if you worry about everything and, therefore, feel too frightened to do things, your world can get really small, really fast. The walls can feel like they’re closing in.

Third, anxiety is not a sign of weakness. And dealing with it is a sign of strength.

Fourth, people suffering from anxiety need kindness. From others, sure, but from themselves. I need to be kind to myself, to be patient with my small steps forward, and to realize that I’m not a bad person or a failure for having this condition. I’m human.

Smalls steps. Patience. Kindness. The right techniques. It will take time and it will be an everyday battle, but I fully hope to get the anxiety beast under control eventually. Slay the dragon completely? No, because anxiety is a part of me. As much as my wicked sense of humor. My green eyes. And my unshakeable belief in the power of chocolate.

And while it’s not the headline, the good news is that we’ve reconfigured the vacation to a shorter, closer-to-home getaway to Yosemite for just a few days with maybe a couple of days somewhere else not too distant. As for the aforementioned life challenges that have added to this particularly lovely bout of me vs. the beast (very difficult aging-parent issues being at the top of that list), those will get chipped away at a bit at a time. Not perfectly, but in a way that I can handle and still take care of myself, which is the most important thing.

I couldn’t ask for a better partner, advocate, or co-slayer of my dragon than B. – my gratitude to him for loving me unconditionally and for my being able to lean on him for strength is boundless. Ultimately, this is about me, though, about my fighting the fight and emerging stronger for it. About the words “what if” not being scared but, one day, being hopeful. And full of possibility.

I’m gonna need a bigger piece of chocolate.

©2024 Claudia Grossman