Hi! I’m Anxiety.

or learning to tell anxiety no.

Mild spoiler’s for Disney/Pixar’s Inside Out 2 below

To the 40 million people in America living with an anxiety disorder, rejoice. We have been personified.

Even if you haven't watched Disney/Pixar's Inside Out 2, you’ve undoubtedly seen the commercials, memes, and TikTok’s of the franchise’s newest character, Anxiety...and all the stuff she brings.

At the beginning of Inside Out 2, Anxiety is a helpful addition to the emotional guidance crew inside Riley’s head, preparing her for new challenges and ensuring she narrowly misses a few social disasters. But as the film progresses, Anxiety's planning turns to chaos, culminating in a heartbreakingly accurate representation of a panic attack. The unraveling, can't-catch-your-breath, can't-focus-on-anything feeling is depicted in a frenzied vortex around Riley's internal control center. Anxiety can't let go, and the other emotions can't break through.

If there's a more accurate depiction of a panic attack in a movie, I don't think I want to see it.

Of course, in the end we learn the importance of all the emotions; Anxiety, Joy, Sadness, and all their technicolored friends exist in harmony and make Riley a complete person. But it made me think - what is it about anxiety that makes it so hard to exist with other emotions, particularly joy? From the very beginning, Anxiety and Joy are at odds, feeling like the other is doing Riley a disservice. Inside my own mind, my personal Anxiety and Joy are having the same fight, constantly battling over the controls.

In one of the film’s most poignant moments Joy blurts out, “I don’t know how to stop anxiety.  Maybe this is what happens when you get older. You feel less joy.”

Can anxiety and joy co-exist?

Anxiety gets a bad rap, but it isn't necessarily a bad thing. It heightens our senses and helps us respond to stimuli. When functioning properly, we absorb information, weigh our options, and take the best course of action. Anxiety is something we feel in one moment, preparing us for a future one. We study today for next week’s test. We get gas now because we don’t want to be stranded tomorrow. We observe, draw logical conclusions, and make logical decisions.

But what happens when our anxiety, our preparations for the future, cease to be logical?  As Riley’s Anxiety gains more and more control she starts to overwhelm Riley with illogical fears, and the things that once brought Riley joy — hockey, favorite bands, spending time with friends — emerge in one echoing refrain:

“I’m not good enough.”

For Riley, that phrase leads to the inevitable panic attack. But what was the trigger for me?  In those moments when Anxiety gets her hands on my control center what phrase echoes through my mind?

I can’t do it all.

It was my echoing thought. I can’t do it all. It wasn’t a matter of not having the skills. Warranted or not, I’ve always felt confident in my abilities. It was a matter of not having the time, not focusing on priorities, and ultimately, not completing tasks.

I had fallen into a habit of task switching. At the gym I would check email between sets. While walking Auri I would draft content on my phone. While folding laundry I would think about future blog posts, only to realized I still needed to put the dishes away. I’d stop folding laundry and head to the sink, but notice my open computer and start drafting a blog. Fast forward that evening, sitting on the couch: overwhelmed, with nothing more to show than a pile of laundry, dirty dishes, a bad workout, a dog that wanted attention, and no blog.

I thought I was multitasking.  But was multitasking really just code for giving Anxiety control?

Turns out science agrees. Studies show that multitasking - particularly with email - can increase feelings of anxiety and depression. Constant task switching impacts our brain. We send competing, often irrelevant information, leading to decreased performance across all tasks.

Or in terms of what was happening at my internal control center, I was taking things that were once reserved for Joy and handing them over to Anxiety.

I decided it was time to give Joy a fighting chance.

The plan was simple enough: Only do one thing at a time.

Any time I started a task I identified my goal. If Anxiety popped up, tempting me to do something that didn’t move me closer to that goal — even if it was something I needed to do — I would simply say no.

At the gym, every time I had the urge to check my email I said one word: No.

And since brevity isn’t my strong suit, a follow up: My goal right now isn't to catch up on email. It is to complete my work out. It is to get strong. There will be time later when I can focus on email, but now is not the time. As I said it, I actually felt myself relax. I was giving myself permission to put Joy in control. I was doing one thing, and focused on nothing more than that.

I said no a lot all week - while walking the dog, while doing chores, and even, ironically, while doing email. Every time I felt the urge to do something else it became a refrain: No. That isn't my goal right now.

And each time I said no, Anxiety, always hovering on the edges, slowly backed away.

It’s only been a week, but I’ve noticed small changes.  I’ve started to create to-do lists to identify what I need to accomplish. I’ve felt the urge to create routines. Most of all, I’ve begun to respect time, and realize that I owe it to myself to use it wisely. The constantly swirling thoughts inside my mind will never be gone, but they are slowly coming under my control.

The anxiety-fueled echo of “I can’t do it all” became “I can do this one thing.” It felt like I was telling Anxiety “Yes, I know you’re here. Thank you for helping me be prepared. Let me finish this and then I’ll address that.”

And Anxiety, that orange, frizzy haired friend that maybe wasn’t the total enemy I once thought replies, “You bet. I’ll be here to help when you’re ready.”