Someone emailed me recently about how she often feels a sense of anxiety around her solar plexus. I can relate to that. I experience it too, although not constantly, it’s present a lot of the time. It doesn’t dominate my life or stop me from feeling happy, but it’s there. It’s not something I can “fix” or make disappear, and trying to isn’t helpful. This anxiety is something we live with, not something we banish. The best way to manage it, I’ve found, is to embrace it with love.
But before you can love it, you need to become aware of it. This can be uncomfortable, but it’s a necessary step. You can’t respond skillfully to something unless you’re aware of it.
Many of us experience this kind of anxiety without even realizing it. Whether we realize it or not, it affects us. It influences our actions, making us turn on the TV to avoid the anxiety of being alone, pour a glass of wine to dull work-related worries, or snap at our partner because we’re afraid they might not care about us.
The good news is that we can be at peace even when anxiety is present. Chronic, low-grade anxiety doesn’t have to impact our well-being. By being mindful of these sensations, we can learn to see anxiety as just a sensation, not a threat.
This takes practice, but it’s achievable. Start with minor anxiety, let go of the thoughts that come with it, and just notice it. What does this sensation feel like? Where is it located? How does it change over time? By adopting this approach, anxiety becomes less daunting. It’s just another sensation.
Then we can learn to love it. Loving anxiety isn’t natural for us. It’s something we have to learn because our typical response is to avoid it. Anxiety is designed to make us wary of perceived threats, making us want to avoid it. So we see anxiety itself as a threat and try to avoid it.
We can start to see our anxiety not as an enemy, but as a signal from a part of us that is suffering. It’s like a scared child or animal calling out for reassurance. Can we offer it comfort? Can we love it as we would a pet or child?
We can treat our anxiety with kindness, like a parent: “Hey, how are you doing today? I’m sorry you’re suffering. I love and care about you.” We can place a gentle hand where we feel it most strongly in our body and look at it with love, offering reassurance to the part of us that’s afraid.
Perhaps, eventually, this low-grade anxiety will go away. I hope the fearful part of me learns to feel secure and unafraid. Until then, I’ll offer it as much love as I can.
But what if saying “I’m sorry you’re suffering. I just want you to know that I love you and care about you” feels false? Ask yourself if you’d rather live in endless suffering or be at peace. Which sounds more appealing?
How do you drop the thoughts that come with anxiety? It’s tough, but you can do it. Recognize you’re thinking, let go of that thought, and turn your attention to your body. It’s similar to noticing you’re walking too fast and slowing down. You’re not getting rid of thinking; the thoughts will come back. But you can shift your focus temporarily to the physical sensations in your body.
It’s understandable to be freaked out by your thoughts, but it gets easier if you take them less seriously. Realize there’s an inner storyteller generating these thoughts and dramas. It doesn’t create truth, just stories. You always have a choice whether to believe it or not.
To take your thoughts less seriously, start questioning them. Ask yourself if a thought is true, helpful, or kind. When you question your thoughts, you stop automatically believing them. Initially, do this after a thought appears. Later, do it as it appears, and eventually, you might do it even before it appears.
Treat your mind as if it’s a child having a nightmare about a monster under the bed. Be kind and soothing. Explain that it’s just a bad dream and the child is safe. Treat yourself and your mind with the same kindness and love. This approach can be particularly helpful if you’re often a harsh self-critic.