To hear the phrase, “our only hope” always makes one anxious because it means that if the only hope doesn’t work, there is nothing left. –Lemony Snicket, the Blank Book

I am one of those people you would affectionately call a “worry wart”. I literally worry nearly every minute of every day and to be honest, it can be crippling. I worry a lot about things that I really probably shouldn’t even worry about, much less linger on. I worry about other people and how they’re affected by various things. I worry too about how what I do can affect other people, and how what I choose not to do can affect them even more. (For example, the other morning, when I witnessed a really scary car accident and after the airbag deployed, the woman held her hands up to her face. I called my husband because I couldn’t decide if I should pull over or not. I hadn’t actually seen who had hit who but all I know is, one of the cars involved was tailgating me all the way down Belcher. But literally, the entire day, I felt like I was hyper vigilant. I kept remembering the accident and that woman with her hands up to her face. I think I drove below the speed limit for the next few days.) 

I used to always wonder how it was that people could go through their lives just not worrying. I always wondered what that would look like, how it would feel to have responsibilities and concerns, but to never dwell on them. I mean, everybody worries sometimes but not to the point of it consuming their day. I always say to my husband, who is one of those people who absolutely never worries, don’t you think if I could control it, I would? Don’t you think that if I could go through life without having to overanalyze and think things to absolute death, I would?

I worry about my past transgressions and how they affect me now. I worry about how in conjunction to that, I could unknowingly take future missteps. I worry about driving to work; I worry about breaking down on the way there, forcing me to be late. I worry about getting a flat tire and having to wait on someone to come fix it. I worry about the off chance of getting in an accident and the repercussions of that. (This is the juncture in which everyone in my entire family is drastically trying to find wood to knock on in order to salvage whatever little bit of luck they’ve got left. If my mom was here right now, she would say, “Katie, don’t even SAY IT.” #Italianproblems)  

I worry endlessly about people’s perceptions of me. I’m always wondering what my voice sounds like to them (most trained musicians can immediately tell I’m an alto), whether or not my point is truly being conveyed, and if people even give a shit what I’m talking about. (That’s probably a bit part of the reason why I talk so much; I need people to understand what I’m trying to say. It is important to me to get my point across accurately. I am nothing if not articulate.) I worry incessantly about public speaking, which I have to do for my job, and realize that it’s pretty obvious I’m always nervous about it. 

I worry about all the things that could invariably go wrong in any situation. I worry about what foods I eat and how they will affect my future health. I worry a lot about travelling and getting stranded without some sort of survival kit. I worry even more about being stuck somewhere with the inability to eat for a long period of time because unfortunately for like, everyone, I have low blood sugar. I worry about my skin and its limited elasticity, and as I get older, it only makes me worry more and more. (I wear sunscreen every day on my face underneath my makeup and I drink tons of water but you can only ask so much of a Clinique moisturizer.) I worry about getting pregnant and giving birth or God forbid, being terrible at parenting. I worry about all the judgements that people will almost certainly pass and the defense I will have to soon build up in response to it. I worry about passing on this goddamn terrible propensity to worry onto my poor, unsuspecting future children. 

And friends, the saddest part about all of this is that I have gotten so much better.

Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in. –Shannon L. Alder 

I don’t honestly know how I even got through life before now. Honestly, I probably should have been committed.(That last sentence is mostly light hearted sarcasm but there is some truth to it.) I had very little control over how I was feeling and honestly, that’s why I always drank so heavily when I was younger. (Again, as earlier stated, I have gotten so much better.)

I worried so much that it would actually leave me physically debilitated. Sometimes I would just cry uncontrollably because that was one of the few ways that I knew to comfort myself. I would stay up all hours of the night, wondering and worrying about things that might happen in the near future. I was consumed by all the guilt I felt about leaving my parents, and I worried about my dad who had gotten sick so shortly after that. I worried that I was either going to end up marrying some abusive asshole or become so irrevocably psychotic after I got rid of him that I would become unapproachable.

And sometimes, the more comfort I received from those around me, the more panic would build in my chest. Sometimes I would walk around and around my apartment complex and think about all the ways I wished my life could be. I worried because I was running on empty. I worried because I was visibly a walking disaster. I was worried because I had literally screwed up my entire family and wound up looking like an actual crazy person. I wanted a man, someone that I could cling to but sometimes, the very possibility just made me more anxious. 

Men came with so much trouble. They could be very judgy. And to be fair, what man in their right mind would want to deal with me after the mentality I’ve just described? I understand it, friends. I know how I look outwardly. I realize my explicit qualities.

I was crazy, I had a really crazy ex-boyfriend, and I couldn’t sit still to save my life. 

Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom. –Soren Kierkegaard

And although I have gotten so much better over the years (I literally cannot stress that enough), I can confidently say that I still irritate people with my chronic propensity to incessantly worry. I notice it a lot more with men and with women who have children. I have this rabid tendency to turn nothing into something and because of this, I feel like I literally burn calories worrying. (My husband’s running joke is that I jump immediately to death. No matter what the situation, I assume the worst case scenario is always death.) Today there was a hornet in my office that no one could seem to kill and I am so serious, I couldn’t even concentrate on work. I just kept envisioning what escape root I would take if it flew near me. God forbid. I mean, what if it stung me? I would probably die!

But the thing is that I know it bothers people and that ails me. For example, I was on [my first] camping trip about a month ago. It was all great fun until it started to literally monsoon all over our alleged private paradise. We were on this relatively secluded island, surrounded by trees and abandoned fire pits from previous campers. We had pitched our tents with those metal rods that you have to weave through the tent holes and were drinking Coronas out of aluminum cans. (Don’t worry faithful readers: I snuck in the whiskey here and there.) And we were sitting in metal camping chairs under one of those giant gazebos with the metal legs.

Why are all these nonsense details so important? Because while it was torrential down pouring all over our much anticipated camping trip and my dog was literally shaking in my lap, all I could manage to think about was how we were all going to get struck by lightning. I had just started my new job, I had worked so hard to get there, and I was going to die right there at my girlfriend’s birthday party. Struck by fucking lightning.

We were sitting under metal, holding all these stupid aluminum cans and literally everyone was just unphased. I kept pleading with everyone to just pour their drinks in plastic cups and they sweetly just looking at me like I was crazy. One of the girls said to me, “Hey, if it’s my time, it’s my time.” Then I looked at her like she was crazy. I’m thinking to myself, “What is wrong with these people?! Don’t they realize that they’re totally going to get struck by lightning and subsequently die?!”

The whole storm, I could not relax. (Neither could my poor, sweet dog.) I kept thinking about this story from my childhood: There was this man that was golfing one day in the town where I grew up. (That’s Marco Island, Florida, for those of you who don’t know.) It wasn’t raining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and he was sipping from a Coke can. It started to drizzle and presumably since there were no clouds or lightning, the man went and stood under a tree. He didn’t feel threatened; he wasn’t worried about a storm, because there wasn’t one. 

He got struck by lightning and died. The end. It could have been the water inside the tree trunk, it could have been the Coke can, or it could have been the fact that he was holding a golf club. We may never know. The point of this story is that he died while he was trying to relax on the golf course.

Throughout all of this, and even after I told the story, I could feel the judging. These people love the shit out of me and they were still looking at me like, “You’re a grown ass woman. You can’t literally be scared of lightning.” And that’s the whole point of all of this, friends: I’m not scared of lightning. I’m not scared of a whole lot, in all honesty. I’m scared of what could happen in any given situation. I’m worried about what could go wrong. I’m worried about things I have no control over. 

Moral of the Crazy: Honestly I don’t know why people worry but I do know that I’m not the only one. I know that it is a quality that infuriates people; I know it drives people crazy, and I know that sometimes it probably makes me frustrating to be around. I also know that a lot of the times, my worries are unwarranted but it is what it is. If I could control any of this, I would be cool as a cucumber, as my mom would say. I would never worry; I would just ride the wave. (“Ride the wave” is this phrase one of my girlfriends from college used to always use and it has always stuck with me. She is another one of those cool, calm and collected individuals that I would really love to be like.) If I could get through one day without irritating the absolute shit out of my husband, believe me: I would. It just isn’t in my genetic makeup. 

But like I mentioned earlier, I really have gotten better. 

A lot of this requires diligence in maintaining a level head, which quite honestly, is something I struggle with. I don’t have a temper, I’m not one to usually get upset or overreact about things, but I inwardly panic. I internalize and overanalyze everything and I can’t help it! It’s like a disease! But I have learned that keeping a cool head is unassailably difficult for someone like me so I work really hard on “talking things out”. When I was still an active musician, we would call this sort of behavior a “run through”. 

I literally talk everything out when I’m alone in order to process the situation accurately. I will run through various scenarios in my head like: If this happens, then I will do this or if the absolute worst happens, then this is what will happen. It’s a taxing way to process but it helps. And it also helps a lot with my relationships because I will run through nearly everything before I say it out loud. I have various routes I can take if the person I’m speaking with loses their head or gets their feelings hurt. I mean, if anything, this entire process has just made me more thoughtful, more considerate of other people.

But for those of you who aren’t like me (I am painfully in touch with my feelings, friends and I like it), I offer you a few suggestions for reducing anxiety:

1.       I feel like number one should always be deep breathes. Personally, I was never a huge believer in that because I was a musician for years. I did deep breathing exercises daily and I was still a lunatic. But I think the main idea is to center yourself. Close your eyes, find your breath and focus on only that. It’s good for your soul and your heart.

I’ve also seen (but haven’t yet tried) an interesting spin on this. One of my really, really awesome girlfriends does a step by step tutorial of Alternate Nostril Breathing on her Facebook page. I seriously urge you to check it out and try it! To do so, go ahead and click here:

Purple(dot) Yoga Project

2.       Learn what it is that triggers your anxiety. Figuring out what the root cause is can be really helpful in either avoiding the situation in the future or learning ways to diffuse it.

3.       Journal your feelings! I’m clearly a huge advocate for journaling because I love to write. Sometimes when I don’t have the time for that (because let’s be real: life gets hectic), I just use that talk it out method I mentioned earlier. Journaling, however, is a great tool to use for reflection as well. I love looking back on things I’ve written to see how far I’ve come.

4.       Talk to someone. There are people out there, like me and other professionals that work in the mental health/human services field who actually want to hear you. We go to college to learn how to better communicate and develop empathic listening styles just for you! However, I know that can be a step for some individuals. So if that’s the case, call a friend, call your mom, call your pastor, or call someone you haven’t spoken to in awhile. I’m sure they would love to hear from you.

5.       And of course, maintain a positive attitude. You would be so surprised how strong the power of positive thinking is. A happy outlook on life can take you pretty far, friends. I know this guy who was in pretty serious legal trouble, was losing his business, and had just broken up with his shady girlfriend and I swear to God, the man always wore a smile. It’s infectious. It helps people. And it will help you help yourself. 

Also, and this is just because I’m a foodie, I wanted to include a list of foods that help to prevent anxiety. When I first met my husband, I was in a really bad state with anxiety. I was planning a wedding, running away from my past, and trying to figure out how to get my life together. I was a wreck a lot of the time. Partly because my husband was worried about my health and partly because I drove him pretty close to crazy, he Googled what foods are helpful in combating anxiety. Here’s a little list for you:

1.       Oysters (The ones in New Orleans are literally the size of your head. It’s perfection.)

2.       Rooibos or Chamomile tea (I prefer the Rooibos because I’m partial to anything South African.)

3.       Turkey (I prefer it ground, spiced with Applewood seasoning and served with my egg whites. But that’s me.)

4.       Avocados (I prefer to eat them like apples, but I wouldn’t say no to guacamole.)

5.        Dark Chocolate (No explanation needed.)

6.       Leafy greens and fatty meats (Think grass-fed beef and nice, pinky-red salmon.)

I’m not a doctor, friends. I barely even remember what I had for breakfast most days but I know how it feels to be tense, to feel that sense of panic festering within you and to have no control over it. All I can say is, there are things like exercise and staying busy that can help to alleviate anxiety but the reality is that it will probably always be there. Just know that you aren’t alone, that you aren’t out there floating on a buoy by yourself. 

Go ahead and take a deep breath, I’ll still be here.

Her forehead was a maze of anxious little grooves, from a lifetime of wondering about whether everyone in range was okay. –Tana French