Newsletter #25

Learning to Love Anxiety

Hi there,

For most of my life, anxiety was my arch enemy. I hated it. I still do. That tight chest, those racing thoughts, and the knotted-fist feeling in my stomach is truly horrible. I'd do anything to make it stop. And for years, I found my solution in a bottle. I knew that drinking didn't solve anything, but it did make the anxiety go away. For a while. And, at the time, that was priceless.

But obviously the alcohol solution was severely flawed. Any form of numbing or distraction is. And that’s something that I’ve learned as a big part of my recovery journey.

I’ve learned to sit with uncomfortable feelings instead of running away from them. To notice all forms of anxiety without immediately reaching for something to numb it away. It’s not been the easiest process but it has been a life saver; learning to tolerate anxiety rather than flee from it has been a wonderful life lesson.

However, I recently read a book which touched on a subject called ‘existential freedom’. This is the value of feeling completely free to be authentically yourself, completely free to do what you want to do, and completely free to feel alive. It sounds magical doesn’t it? And it is freely available to all of us. But there’s a catch. One of the book’s key observations is that to really feel the full freedom of being alive you have to accept the anxiety that comes with it.

Mmm. Is that possible?

So, I've been wondering: what if I could go further on my journey with anxiety? What if there was a stage beyond tolerating it? What if I could actually learn to love anxiety?

The value of anxiety

I’m squirming as I’ve written that. It sounds absurd doesn’t it? The idea of loving the very thing that drove me to distraction and despair? But the book I read has made me question whether it is as absurd as it first sounds. Mainly because it suggests there are five compelling reasons why anxiety might deserve not just our tolerance, but our affection.

First, anxiety discloses our freedom. That uncomfortable feeling you get when facing an important decision? Getting nervous about making a big move? Maybe that’s not a bad thing at all. That feeling of anxiety is a tangible sign that you have choices, that your future isn't predetermined. It's the feeling of standing at a crossroads, and it drives your ambition to be more and do more. The anxiety about whether to leave a secure job, start that business, or have that difficult conversation – these anxious moments are precisely how you forge your future self. We should relish these moments.

Second, uncertainty is the motivation for meaning. A life without anxiety would require a life of certainty. A perfectly known path with every step of the way clearly marked. But travelling that path would be so boring – flat, unchanging, perfectly predictable, and utterly devoid of significance. We create meaning by navigating uncertainty. The parent anxious about their child's wellbeing creates deeper bonds through that concern. The artist anxious about whether their work matters pushes themselves toward greater expression. Remove the anxiety, remove the uncertainty, and you remove the very foundations in which meaning is built and grows.

Third, anxiety illuminates the significance of love and compassion. When we feel anxious, we're experience isolation, separation, the possibility of abandonment. The more anxious we feel, the more we feel alone in the world. Maybe we could use these moments to remind us that we’re not alone. Ever. We can use anxiousness to teach us the value of tenderness, closeness, intimacy, and connection. Anxiety about losing someone reveals how much they matter. Anxiety about being alone drives us toward genuine relationship. It's the shadow that makes us appreciate the light.

Fourth, anxiety is our experience of time itself – and with it comes hope. To feel anxious about the future is to acknowledge that the future exists and that it matters. Everything changes. This too shall pass. This temporal awareness, uncomfortable as it sometimes can be, is what allows us to hope, to have faith, to keep going. It's what allows us to let deal with the pain as we know the pain will pass. It gives us the hope that miracles are always available to us.

Finally, anxiety is the birthplace of creativity. Every creative act emerges from some form of anxiety – the creative tension of the blank page, the gap between vision and execution, the vulnerability of sharing something new. Time and creativity together fashion growth, and anxiety fuels both.

Existential anxiety vs Neurotic anxiety

The crucial distinction here is between existential anxiety (the uncomfortable feeling associated with a life filled with freedom) and neurotic anxiety (the fear of what people might think of me). Neurotic anxiety is ego based, irrational, and something that genuinely needs addressing. But existential anxiety – the fundamental uncertainty about freedom, meaning, time, and creativity – this is simply the price of being conscious and alive. Something that could be nurtured and possibly even used as an ally.

I used to run from all anxiety indiscriminately. Then I learned to sit with it, to not let it control me. Now I'm wondering whether I might actually befriend it. Because if uncertainty equals freedom plus opportunity, then perhaps loving anxiety is the paradoxical path to finding peace with my true self and the freedom to express it fully. Maybe anxiety is the path to contentment.

I realise that this form of contentment isn’t comfortable. Nor is it the contentment of certainty and safety. It’s a deeper sort of contentment that comes with being truly authentic, being fully alive, fully engaged, fully human – growing, creating, connecting, and choosing our way forward into an uncertain future. And not being worried by what other people think.

When I put it like that, it sounds like the kind of freedom worth feeling anxious about.

Until next time,

Simon