Alicia H. Clarck - Hack Your Anxiety How to Make Anxiety Work for You in Life, Love, and All That You Do

Copyright 2018 by Alicia H. Clark, PsyD, PLLC

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Clark, Alicia H., author. | Sternfeld, Jon, author.

Title: Hack your anxiety : how to make anxiety work for you in life, love, and all that you do / Dr. Alicia H. Clark, with Jon Sternfeld.

Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks, Inc., 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018010617 | (pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Anxiety.

Classification: LCC BF575.A6 C634 2018 | DDC 152.4/6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018010617

Hack (v.) \hak\

To cut or shape clear by cutting away superfluous material

To manage successfully

To gain access to a network or system

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Viktor E. Frankl

Obsessing over a low-grade worry that keeps you distracted

Boundless whirling from task to task to quiet the nagging pressure of stress

Pushing down anxious thoughts in whatever way possible, wishing they would simply disappear

If youre reading this book , chances are good youve tried the above or similar strategies to make your anxiety go away. Or maybe youre looking to help a loved one whose anxiety seems to weigh him or her down. Perhaps you are simply curious about anxiety and how you can better harness it in your life. I get it; I work with anxiety every day, and I have spent the better part of my life immersed in it.

My grandmother worried so much that she shook. Literally. Her body would subtly tremble from this mysterious and overwhelming force of worry inside her. She was a petite southern lady with impeccable manners who favored all things pink and floral. Her short, curly hair framed a round face with fine features and a generous smile. At her warmest, it was a magnet for others. Yet worrying was her natural state of being, like breathing.

What did she worry about? Well, nothing. And everything. She was worried about all the lovely things that grandmothers tend to worry about and likely countless others that remained unspoken:

Do you have enough to eat?

Are you cold?

Do you need salt and pepper?

Her voice was softly feminine, so listeners often had to lean in to hear her. I always imagined she liked the intimacy it afforded. I can see her now, hovering over our Sunday dinner to make sure all the grandchildren and cousins are happy, comfortable, and satisfied. When we were at ease, she was at ease. Or, rather, as at ease as she was capable of being.

The grandkids started a running joke: Granny, can we pass you the salt and pepper? Her anxiousness would deflate at the teasing; shed smile and flush with embarrassment. We were showing our appreciation and poking fun, releasing the valve on her tension. She was never a burden; we accepted and loved her for who she was.

She was the consummate people person, always curious, invested, and connected. I have clear memories of returning home with my family to hear her voice through the tinny speaker of the answering machine: Hi, its me again. Just wondering how youre coming along She required regular assurance that things were, indeed, all right, and she preferred to hear it firsthand. If she could take care of things for someone, even better.

I later learned about her rheumatoid arthritis, which she seldom mentioned, much less complained about. Instead, her worries were pointed outward, about others, and they were rarely serious. As she aged, her anxiety seemed to escalate as she became less able to put it to use. There was no way for her to release that anxiety, so it stayed inside of her. It seemed to be a force that expanded and overtook her, almost crippling her with worry.

When I search for my early associations with anxiety, the image of my grandmother always pops into my head. When I studied the subject in graduate school, Id think about her shaking. When I taught students on the topic or met with patients suffering from it, a picture of her face would flash across my mind. As I spent more time exposed to and studying anxiety, I began to understand my grandmother better, and I began to see how pervasive anxiety was throughout my family. It set the stage for me to understand how much anxietyand peoples responses to that anxietywas affecting their emotions and behavior.

Though no one else in my family shook as my grandmother did, we have all carried that anxiety in our own ways. Even behavior that appeared to be the opposite of anxious was borne from it, formed in reaction to its presence. Anxiety seems to be the center point of everything.

A whirling dervish of action, my mothers response to anxiety is doing, seemingly always on the move. That feeling is the ultimate motivator; it pushes her to do. Whereas my grandmothers anxiety could cripple her, my mothers anxiety seems to spring her forward. She has always known there was something else ahead. Internalized from her own mother, her high standards fuel an anxiety in me that is, at its best, motivating.

My father, on the other hand, was the opposite. Whereas my mother was a constant release valve, my father was a giant balloon; his stress built up over time. He had no way to manage or use it. He could be impulsive, too, aiming too often to soothe his unrest rather than solve his problems.

My family, like many, is a spectrum of extremes. However, in hindsight, I see anxiety as the hub of it all. My grandmother was consumed by it, my father attempted to numb it, and my mother chose to act through it. To my knowledge, no one in my family was ever diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, but if they had been, I imagine they would have been told that anxiety was simply a symptom to tolerate and ignore as much as possible. They would have been advised to take it easy and perhaps been prescribed antianxiety medications to help calm their nerves. Like so many people diagnosed with anxiety disorders, my family members would have likely felt the shame and stigma that go along with mental health issues, including people thinking something was wrong with them. Of course, nothing was wrong with any of themthey simply noticed and felt things deeply, werent always sure what to do with their experiences, and tried many things to cope that didnt always help. Just like so many people I meet every day in my practice.