How reframing my anxiety made me less anxious

Recently, I was having lunch with my lovely friend Sharyn when I mentioned how anxious I was. She nodded and said softly, “Yes, you are the most anxious person I have ever met.” But then she said something amazing. “You vibrate at a frequency I’ve never felt or seen in anyone. You’re like a human hummingbird.”

Hearing that was like a wonderful little electric shock.

If I had a past image of myself, it was always screaming banshee, pure panic in human form, worrying about everything because I learned early that the world wasn’t safe. What could it be like when my home life was always changing from love to anger and back again?

If my father was coldly cruel, my mother and older sister were initially lovingly warm. When I was young, I stuck to my mother’s side. My sister was my best friend. They told me that life is dangerous, and that the only way to stop worrying about something is to imagine the worst until you are prepared. (I felt more anxious.) But then, when I got to third grade, I wanted more independence, to have my own ideas, to wear clothes I liked, and to spend time alone. I saw it as freedom. My mother saw the abandonment and lashed out with attacks. No one liked me because I was ugly, I exploded. I was lazy and selfish. My sister quickly changed towards me too. We used to spend hours happily immersed in writing stories together, but when I started writing alone, I tore up my room to find my work, and then cried out that it was my fault that these new stories were so trivial and stupid. All I wanted to do was stop the shock and pain of those voices, so I became quieter and smaller so that she could quickly fall back into love, suggesting ice cream or a walk, as if nothing had happened. No wonder I was confused and confused. And worried.

It couldn’t have been easier when I left for college. I was constantly worried that someone might yell at me, a doctor, a professor, a friend. In college, I would go from boy to boy because how could any of them really love me? How can I trust that? I broke up with my friends before they could leave me, labeled myself a party girl, when truthfully, I was desperate for love, and kept moving so I wouldn’t be anyone’s target. Anger Or disappointment.

It was exhausting, all of it anxiety. to treat Help. And also being married to a quiet, smart, funny music journalist made me realize that I’m allowed to ask for things without her He is afraid From screaming at. I didn’t have to fear that every interaction with another person could inexplicably go south. He told me that if someone yells at me for no reason, they are the problem, not me. Little by little, I started to believe him, and then stand up for myself. When my mother called, angry at me for some mockery, I managed to say to her: “I love you, so please call back when you have calmed down.” (I did!) I began to see how my sister’s anxiety was a kind of prison, keeping her out of her unhappy life, but when I tried to help, I was frankly silenced, and then blamed. It made me afraid for her, Then for me, because what was I missing in my life because of anxiety?

I pushed myself. I experienced driving what it was like to walk up to strangers at a party when I was shaking on the inside. I’ve gone from asking for things I need via email to being able to do it face to face. With a great deal of work, I have improved. I’ve carved a success Professional life As a novelist. The loving consistency of my friends and husband eases a lot of the anxiety I feel.

I’m kinder to my anxiety too, because it’s actually given me positives by being kind of a driving engine for me. I am incredibly productive and focused on my work. She has published 13 novels to acclaim. I’ve won awards. I have never missed a deadline. I never give up. I now know that when I feel anxious, I should ask myself, is there a real reason for the anxiety? If not, I put my focus elsewhere, losing myself writing, jumping on the trampoline, rearranging every drawer in the house, or whatever to prevent anxiety from taking root. I also ask people now, are you mad at me, and when they say no, of course not, I believe them. If they say yes, I want to know why so we can work it out. I tell people when I’m feeling anxious or unsure because I’ve come to believe that emotional transparency is the way to feel safe, seen, and authentic.

So back to that lunch. As soon as my friend told me I was a hummingbird, I felt like I was looking at myself again, and I was overcome with relief. Yes, hummingbirds look anxious because they never stop moving and rattling their wings, but they are also unique and beautiful, a type of bird that doesn’t seem possible, and yet it exists. It also would not have been possible for me to be able to survive in such a turbulent family while growing up, but not only did I do that, it led me to a rewarding life.

Don’t get me wrong. The anxiety still clung to me DNA. But now, the image of that hummingbird has become a mascot. It’s a new way of reframing that mortal anxiety from screaming banshee to gorgeous wild birds, and going on my personal mile-a-minute path toward a richer, worry-free life.