I think I’m a serial worrier. I base this assumption on the simple fact that I have often found myself worrying about having nothing to worry about. Riddle me that one if you can! Nestled within my consciousness for as long as I can remember, I think I handle this state of mind fairly well.
Granted it’s annoying, but similarly to my dislike of getting into cold water, I’ve grown to accept it as being part of my personality. What I absolutely loathe, however, is when I admit to apprehension and am told not to worry. The following statements are as useful as a chocolate teapot: “Take a break and forget all about it.” “Just park it and chill.” “Calm down and stop worrying.”
The often quoted words of American author Glenn Turner, “Worrying is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere,” just send me into apoplexy. It was time for me to investigate this sensation.
The logical and illogical sides of worry
I was reassured to discover that humans have an innate tendency to worry, which has evolved as a critical survival mechanism. This phenomenon is extensively studied in the field of psychology. For instance, Borkovec and Hu found that worry can influence physiological responses such as cardiovascular activity, which help the body prepare for potential threats. I get that perspective but in reality, when I am in worry mode it is usually in circumstances that don’t pose physical danger.
The Depression Anxiety Stress Scales questionnaire provides a more contemporary analysis and assesses the levels of worry that connect with tension and anxiety. Triggers can include finances, relationships and health.
These observations are helpful but don’t quite explain my tendency to turn to worry when there isn’t an obvious source.
When anxiety runs out of control
Edward Armitage came to the rescue with a more philosophical discussion on the absurdity of worry, the conditions under which it appears illogical, and how such unreasonable concern arises. He argued that worry can be irrational when it is disproportionate to the actual threat or fear; for example, worrying excessively about a minor issue that has a low probability of occurring. This type of worry often stems from cognitive distortions, such as catastrophising (what a cracking descriptor!) – imagining the worst possible outcome – or overgeneralising and believing that one negative event will lead to a series of negative events. In a nutshell, this is me!
He also introduced the concept of “weakness of will”, where individuals recognise that their worry is ridiculous but still find it difficult to control. This can be due to deeply ingrained habits, emotional responses, or a lack of effective coping mechanisms.
Reducing worry: the power of mind and body
So, having gained a broader understanding of why I am inclined to worry, the next step on my journey of self-discovery was to connect with some proven anxiety-reducing techniques, rather than the door-closing methods bandied around by some of the people close to me.
Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) is a well-established method for treating anxiety and worry. It involves identifying and challenging negative thought patterns and replacing them with more positive and realistic ones. Research has shown that CBT can be highly effective in reducing worry and anxiety. Definitely worth a further punt since this approach effectively helped me to conquer my needle phobia.
Mindfulness practices, such as meditation, can help individuals become more aware of their thoughts and feelings without becoming overwhelmed by them. Studies have found that mindfulness-based interventions can significantly reduce worry and anxiety. Relaxation practices and regular exercise have also been linked to reduced anxiety and worry. Exercise can help improve mood, increase energy levels and promote better sleep, all of which can contribute to reducing the woe of worry.
The simple solution: a problem shared
Building and maintaining strong social connections can provide emotional support and reduce feelings of worry. Research has shown that having a supportive social network can buffer one against the negative effects of stress.
When my wife died, I was paralysed with the fear of being alone. In my 50s the thought of starting out again and being on my own caused a wave of worry that nearly tipped me over the edge. One day I simply confided in my friend Bekki who patiently coaxed me to identify the times when I was alone and enjoyed my own company. I immediately focussed on the long spells travelling alone to watch Notts County and speedway meetings across the country, and subsequently the tsunami of terror became an easier wave to surf. Good friends who listen, love you for who you are, and don’t judge, are priceless. Thank you, Bekki.
I doubt I will ever completely rid myself of worry. I am however more confident in slaying the catastrophising of circumstances with my weapon of choice being the simple art of talking stuff through with those that really care and have the capacity to listen – those who can gently nudge me in the right direction, away from Worryville.
