The Problem with Anxiety is it Doesn’t Announce Itself

Anxiety rarely introduces itself.

It doesn’t say, “Hi, I’m anxiety, I’m here to overwhelm you and make you avoid all the fun stuff.”

Instead, it sounds like:

• “Maybe now’s not the right time”
• “I’m not the kind of person who gets away with that”
• “I’ve got a lot of other things to focus on”

It sounds reasonable. It sounds cautious. It starts to sound like you.

And the problem is, we can’t see our fight or flight system activating. We can’t hear it. We can’t smell it. We can’t taste it. We can’t touch it. So, it’s easy to think it must not be that. It must be us. It must be us, just being sensible. Just being cautious. Just being safe.

When anxiety sounds like “Now just isn’t the right time”

Something I hear in therapy a lot is “I’m just really snowed under right now. I have a lot on my plate.” And that’s often true. But if it’s also a mask your anxiety is wearing, there will never be a good time. That’s what happened to me.

When I was 8, I decided as soon as I left school, I wanted to travel. I started saving and I started planning.

When I finally crossed that finish line and finished my exams, suddenly it was: “Maybe now’s not the right time” and “Maybe I could go later. Maybe after Uni?

I didn’t recognise this as anxiety. I thought I was being sensible. Pragmatic. Maybe I should work for a year and save some more money.

I was also desperate to drive. I just wanted my independence. I wanted to come and go from parties when it suited me. I wanted not to have to pray that some generous person would go out of their way to drop me home. I wanted to be able to get places in the shortest possible time.

But when I went to take me test, I found myself crippled by fear. What if I fail? What if I crash? What if I hurt someone.

And I did fail. I was so nervous, I could think straight. And drove straight through a “stop sign” on exiting the RTA carpark. I didn’t know then that being so nervous about failing was going to make me miss the one thing I needed focus on to pass: The bigger picture.

At the time, I didn’t label this as anxiety. I just felt like a failure. And it confirmed what I was starting to think: Maybe driving is just too dangerous. Maybe I shouldn’t be on the road. Maybe I’m a danger to myself and other commuters. Maybe I shouldn’t have rushed it. Maybe when I finish Uni?

And that fed into my fear of travelling more broadly. Maybe I’m being impulsive? Maybe I’m being stupid? Have I fully researched all the places I want to go? Maybe it’s all a terrible waste of money? Maybe I’ll have a horrible time and regret leaving. Maybe the love of my life will be at Sydney Uni while I’m lost at Tel Aviv Central Bus station.

Despite all of this, I got on the plane. And I was terrified.

Over the next year, I did things that felt out of character for me.

• I often couldn’t speak the language so I caught buses I didn’t know exactly where they were going, and I got lost.

• I asked for directions and pretended to understand the answers so I wouldn’t look stupid.

• I walked for miles with a backpack on because I refused to ask for help.

• I missed flights because I misread 24-hour time as 12-hour time.

• I caught trains in Vienna.

• I walked alongside Gondolas in Venice (those things are way to expensive).

• I rode a horse and carriage in Central Park even though it was way outside my daily budget.

What I was doing, without realizing it, was staying in the very situations my anxiety was telling me to avoid.

How anxiety actually reduces

Over the year, without realizing it, I was becoming more confident, more competent and less ruled by my anxiety.

I didn’t understand it at the time, but over a whole year of being in situations where travel was unavoidable, I had been exposed to my feared situations long enough for my brain to learn that they were uncomfortable, but I could cope with them. I didn’t love being lost, being given wrong directions, working out the London underground, but I did survive. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t life-threatening either.

This is how anxiety reduces. Not through avoidance, but through exposure.

The shift that followed

I thought when I got home, I’d be tired, broke, regretful and just as afraid of life as when I left. But I wasn’t. I was still me. Still human. Still prone to want to imagine I’m more attractive than I am. But I was also less anxious.

I took my driving test again. And passed easily. I had not driven a single second while I was overseas. (Remember, I didn’t pass my driving test).

Not because the test was different, but because my relationship with fear was.

Since then, I’ve been able to travel without giving it much thought. Occasionally, I notice myself getting short of breath as plane doors close but mostly I breathe through it and I’m okay.

Why anxiety is so easy to miss

Anxiety doesn’t announce itself.

It disguises itself as caution, hesitation, procrastination, or diligence.

By the time the thought shows up, it already feels true, it already feels like you. A cautious version of you.

But sometimes, that voice isn’t giving you useful information. It’s trying to protect you from things that aren’t actually dangerous.

A small shift that can help

Instead of asking “Do I feel like doing this?”, try asking “Is this something that matters to me?”

Because anxiety will almost always answer “no” to the first question. It will always furnish you with a reason not to do the thing that you’re avoiding. Your values answer the second.

Understanding anxiety takes support

Looking back, I didn’t understand what was happening in my body at the time. But I needed other people to say “You’ve wanted to take this trip forever. What are you talking about?” I couldn’t see anxiety myself because it doesn’t announce itself. I needed other people to be a mirror for me and without that, I would never have gotten on that plane and who knows what other things my travel anxiety might have caused me to miss out on. Now, I just regret that I spent the summer worrying that I was making the hugest mistake of my life. I don’t like to think what would have happened if I’d never taken that trip. If I’d never come home feeling like “I survived Heathrow Airport. I can do literally anything”