How do you know when you're doing it right?

When fear is not the enemy

You probably get afraid sometimes. Maybe that fear is helpful, and maybe it’s inconvenient. You’d probably like to know how to work with or around your fear so you can do what you most want to do.

I live with chronic anxiety. Most people think I’m very calm. I perform seemingly without nerves, can speak in public at the drop of a hat, put myself out there online.

What do you think it’s like in my head?

Most of the time I feel like a bubbling cauldron. I always have a voice screaming in my brain, telling me “It’s an emergency, something is wrong, you have to do something.” It’s very hard to ignore that voice.

You can imagine how difficult that would be.

Ignoring it means discounting a warning signal which I am hardwired to accept as helpful. Those warning feelings are supposed to keep you safe. Mine keep me safe from both real and imaginary dangers, making the experience a little like cooking in boxing gloves.

Have you ever tried to do something that should have been straightforward, except that for you it was very difficult? You judge yourself harshly, and you believe everyone else thinks less of you. Your inner voice is telling you something is very wrong.

But what if there’s no evidence that anything is wrong at all? What if everyone is fine with how you’re doing and it’s all in your head? If your feelings are unreliable, how can you use them as any kind of a guide?

I’ve done a lot of work to learn how to be functional. I’ve learned how to use other metrics to decide what to do. It was only this year that I learned maybe the most useful thing of all: What should I be feeling when I’m moving in the right direction?

I discovered that when I’m on the right track I get this feeling in my gut that is a little breathless, like I’m riding a bike down a hill too quickly. It’s not an unpleasant feeling per se. It’s only my association of that feeling with danger that makes it intolerable, and once I change the association, I am able to use it as a more positive marker.

You may have a lot less experience weathering anxiety than I do, because you’re anxious so much less often. That makes it all the more vital for you to learn how to interpret the feelings you’re getting when you are anxious.

If you’re about to go on stage and your heart is beating fast, your palms are sweating, and you can’t remember anything you were going to say, you probably feel like you’re going to die.

You’re not.

This is how most people feel before exposing themselves to the vulnerable state of being on stage. It’s not wrong, it just is. How do you react to this experience?

Common sense tells us to run away from these sensations, even to avoid them at all costs. If you can’t run away, you may be tempted to interpret them as evidence that you’re not good enough, that you’re doing something wrong.

The test of whether you’re good enough is what happens after you get on stage, not before. That will come down to your training and preparation. Stage fright isn’t an indication of your worth, it’s just an experience you have to go through to get to the other side.

For me, knowing that the breathless feeling is a friend has become a game-changer. For you, it may be some other experience you have been misinterpreting. We can explore that together.

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