Caroline Foran is a bestselling author, journalist and podcaster working in Dublin. She also runs her own digital publishing venture, GAFFInteriors.ie. She is the author of Owning It and The Confidence Kit, both Irish bestsellers.
In this chapter from her new book, Everything I Wish I’d Known About Anxiety, Caroline looks back on her struggles, what helped her most, and signposts some of the stops on the roadmap to a lasting recovery…
Reassurance from the other side
I wish I’d known I’d be okay
This is a chapter I could only have dreamed of writing all those years ago, and now it flows so easily. Before you set off, I want to meet your mind where it’s likely at. You might be thinking some or all of the following: Okay, here we go – another book that over-promises and under-delivers or This won’t work for me or There’s no way I’m ever going to feel anything other than incredibly anxious. I get it. I felt much the same way for the longest time.
Forget all the tricks and tools the self-help world offers, or anyone who tells you ‘You’ll be okay.’ Here’s what I really needed: proof that someone else had taken the full brunt of what I was dealing with and had come out the other side – not just in one piece, not a husk of a human, but thriving. I wanted to hear from someone who’d had similar spirals, someone who’d grappled with the fear of the fear and felt suffocated by panic, someone who could reassure me, with conviction, that it wouldn’t always be this way.
Common humanity
I also hoped to come across someone who had arrived at anxiety much like I did. The thing is, if they’d had some big trauma – something that seemed to justify their experience of anxiety – I would think, Well, that makes sense, because X, Y and Z happened to them. But nothing really happened to me, so I must really be losing my mind. And without that reassurance, I wouldn’t have felt seen.
I just wanted someone to tell me, ‘I’ve been there. I know what it feels like.’ It wasn’t just about feeling understood, it was about knowing that my ending up there did, in fact, make sense; it was about knowing that it was possible to get out, that there was a way forward.
This need to seek out others like us, especially in suffering – and even more so when it comes to our mental health struggles – is deeply human because we’ve been hardwired to depend on that connection for our survival. While we’re no longer at risk of being kicked out of our tribe for feeling different, our brain still reacts in the same way (and it’s why our survival-focused brain can be so problematic in the twenty-first century).
Without that sense of shared experience, a deep psychological discomfort is triggered – one that ultimately questions our survival – and only worsens what we’re going through. It’s not about being extroverted or a particularly social person. It’s deep in our neural architecture. We need to know we’re not the only ones.
This sense of shared experience is powerful in a number of ways. For one thing, it makes acceptance more attainable. Lack of acceptance, as we’ll come to see, is often the biggest roadblock people face on this path. On top of that, it helps us move away from self-blame, which directly opposes self-compassion… without self-compassion, you don’t get acceptance. And without acceptance, you stay stuck. Another reason we gravitate towards those who’ve walked the same path is that it empowers us not to give up on ourselves.
Caroline Foran is a bestselling author, journalist and podcaster working in Dublin. She also runs her own digital publishing venture, GAFFInteriors.ie
In this chapter from her new book, Everything I Wish I’d Known About Anxiety, Caroline looks back on her struggles, what helped her most, and signposts some of the stops on the roadmap to a lasting recovery… PHOTO: instagram.com/carolineforan
Now we have concrete evidence that our current rough patch – no matter how severe it feels – has every chance of eventually being something we look back at in our rear-view mirror. (Yep, you can expect quite a few more road trip analogies, about which my editor is no doubt already running out of gas. Oops, did it again.)
Additionally, we can feel hopeful that just because someone hit a life-changing low point, it doesn’t necessarily dictate that their life will have changed for the worse. Oftentimes, and certainly in my case, I can tell you it’s quite the opposite. Ultimately, though, seeing ourselves in someone else, someone who’s waving at us from the other side and saying ‘Yep, you can absolutely get here too’, is immensely comforting; a balm that can immediately soothe our nervous system, making it all the more doable for us to take the next step, and the next one, and the one after that.
Such a person would have provided me with a compass, or a map a lot like this one, and given me a sense of direction. It’s all I wanted, but I didn’t have it. I never came across what I believed was some kind of unicorn – at least not until years later when I started writing about it myself – because if anyone did feel how I did at the time, or had done so in the years prior, it was not something they were willingly broadcasting. It was not an era of sharing our vulnerabilities. Nope, we were knuckling down, stifling our tears, either hoping whatever we were going through would shake off into the night or wanting to pretend – at least to the outside world – that we’d never had such a wobble in the first place.
We had messed-up ideas about what it meant to be strong. The cultural temperature on mental health at that time (and we’re talking a mere decade ago) was aeons away from where we are now. To admit this kind of experience back then was to admit weakness.
It made you appear less capable, less employable, less dateable, less everything. It was awful and isolating, and completely unsurprising that the cracks of an entire generation, forced to act as though everything was fine, eventually began to show and we had a mental health crisis on our hands.
Given a climate that was incredibly hostile towards – and frankly afraid of – such invisible challenges, I understand that few people were serving up their various mental breakdowns on a platter for the likes of me to feast on. It appeared as though I was on my own – anxiety can often make you think that way – but I was far from it. And I know that now because of how many people have reached out to me directly in the years since.
We also know how incredibly common anxiety is from the countless celebrities who’ve opened up about their struggles, in spite of all their privilege (which is irrelevant and another thing we’ll get to as the book unfolds).
I’m so grateful to every single person who has done so – whether famous or mere mortal, on live TV or just friend to friend – because it all adds up.
It all helps to normalise it and helps those suffering to move beyond the fear that they’re truly the only person feeling this way and therefore beyond help.
I didn’t have that reassurance. I had to figure it out for myself. I believe that’s why I was stuck in fear for much longer than I needed to be. Things got messy, but here I am now, feeling better than I thought possible. And I’m in the fortunate position where I can be that voice for anyone who stands where I did. You’re not alone. Not now, not ever.
Let me show you what it looks like on the other side.
What follows is a letter to my younger self, the person I once was – and the person you might be right now. Preferably, I’d hand her the book in its entirety, but here are the topline notes I’d want her to hear and feel with every fibre of her being…
A Letter from the future
Dear you,
Oh man, what I’d give to wrap my arms around you right at this moment. You poor thing. I know, I know, darling girl, it’s so rough. You’re exhausted, and you could fill a pond with the tears you’ve cried. It’s totally understandable that you’re as terrified as you are; it’s real and valid and warranted given how you’re feeling – and don’t for one second let anyone tell you otherwise. Anyone who doesn’t get it – or isn’t willing to – can f***off, in all honesty. In time, a lot more people you know will ‘get it’, as waves of your generation start to realise how much anxiety they’ve been carrying – or masking. It might not be as intense as it’s been for you – some may even have it worse – but those conversations are going to begin. You’ll no longer feel isolated or weird. Instead, you’ll be ahead of the curve and others will turn to you for insight and understanding. So you might want to punch me for saying this, but there is value in what I know is currently a total s***show.
‘I just wanted someone to tell me, ‘I’ve been there. I know what it feels like.’ It wasn’t just about feeling understood, it was about knowing that my ending up there did, in fact, make sense; it was about knowing that it was possible to get out, that there was a way forward’
I know you’ll argue this point, but despite what you think, you’re doing really well. You’re there, aren’t you? Confronting it, staring down the barrel of fear and acknowledging that right now you could use a little help. You’ve always been brave because you’ve always known when to ask for help. The world would be in a lot better shape if more people could take a leaf out of your book. Good for you. There is no failure in hitting rock bottom. I know that was bleak, but you’ve been tenacious ever since in your quest to figure this out and come back to yourself. I’m so sorry there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of support around, at least in terms of how to actually move yourself out of this dark spot. But that will come as more people start talking about it. Pretty soon, you’ll be hearing all about how our wellbeing is as worthy a metric of success as everything else we’ve been taught to strive for. Perhaps even more so. For you, it will always be the pinnacle, and that’s an enviable motivator; it means you’ll make some very smart decisions that prioritise your health over your bank account.
Do me a favour and thank Mam and Dad for not rushing you out of this. I know you already know this, but you are uniquely lucky to have parents who might not fully get it but are willing to learn alongside you. That’ll make a huge difference, pet.
And as for feeling weak? I hope you open this letter on the day that you’ve taken yourself off to the doctor to talk about medication. You see this as evidence of complete failure: next stop the Loony Bin, right? (FYI, we don’t really say that any more.) But soon enough you’ll look back and realise that taking that step was one of the strongest moves you could have made.
If I could, I’d look you in the eye and tell you, ‘You are going to be okay. It all works out. You get through it. You come out the other side.’ I wouldn’t even blink or breathe while saying all of that, and while I’d certainly sound insane, you’d believe me. Because it’s not a wishy-washy sentiment that people share to move as quickly as they can away from the discomfort of the human experience. No. It’s what I know to be true, because I’m writing this from the future, where you are, in fact, more than okay.
_____
Where to start? First of all, that boyfriend you thought had drawn the short straw by meeting you right as you fell apart faster than your first soufflé? He didn’t walk away. He’s your husband now. You got married. You walked down the aisle. That’s the part where most people are shaking with nerves, but I’ve never seen you as at ease and calm as you were in that moment. You did prepare by having a Xanax in your sleeve, should you have needed it, but you didn’t. That’s been one of your superpowers: you learn to allow for the anxiety, you basically invited it to the wedding if it needed to come along, but it didn’t. Speaking of bringing it with you, you thought you had to be anxiety-free to travel, and therefore you’d never set foot on a plane again. Well, you went to Thailand for your honeymoon, and you felt so at peace.
You were pretty scared you’d get food poisoning, but you actually had a better tummy there than anywhere else you’ve ever been. This trip gave you so much confidence and faith in yourself. You also went to Japan and travelled to several cities across the country by train. That said, let’s not fool each other; you make sure to save up enough for every trip so you can have a certain level of comfort abroad. You’re not backpacking. This is not because you wouldn’t be able to cope, but rather because it’s not your vibe at all. You feel better when there’s an extra star on the hotel, and, hey, it’s your money. You know the difference between what’s your personality (like enjoying five-star hotels) and what’s anxiety. You go away on girls’ trips, confident about the things you do and do not feel like doing. You advocate for yourself when needed, only to realise that pretty much everyone feels pressure to ‘go big or go home’ in life. Your closest friends will prefer the ‘go home’ part too, and you’ll have the best time in your PJs.
You’ll reach a day where you no longer wake up with anxiety locked in your limbs, as though it’s crystallised inside your body. I know those mornings were horrible for you. You’ll wake up feeling good, and from then on, it’ll be rare for you to feel anything but that. I remember how brave you were when you started going back to the places where you’d had panic attacks in the past.
For the longest time, you felt you couldn’t physically be near ‘the scene of the crime’ because the memory would be so strong, you’d trigger the same symptoms again. With a little distance, you’ll sit in those places, not trying to avoid the feeling, but noticing it’s just not there.
_____
I should probably jump to some of the biggies: you take this woeful experience and write about it, earning yourself the title of ‘number one international bestselling author’. You feel mortified describing yourself as such, but that is something you achieve. Because of that, you are expected to go on live TV, radio and – deep breaths – give talks to massive companies. Yep, you stand on a stage, share your story and you don’t vomit. In fact, you get quite good at it and before long you start to worry about how you’re not worried enough right before you take the mic. You travel alone for work and you thrive. You buy a house with your husband and have a baby. You’re surprisingly calm through pregnancy, even though you spend most of it throwing up (which helps a lot with your emetophobia). Parenting is a bumpy ride because you give birth to a sensitive little soul, but as you do everything in your power to support your little boy, you realise how far you’ve come.
You hardly ever feel anxious any more. Seriously. When you do feel it, it’s because there’s a clear reason – and even then, it’s manageable. It’s never as intense as it is now, and it never lasts as long. You don’t look over your shoulder in fear of it. You say yes to things without factoring in your anxiety. It’s been years since you’ve had a panic attack, and you’re not living in fear of when one might pop up to pull you under.
You overcome it, and you have much healthier perceptions around what it means to overcome it. There are some bumps along the way, and your path to healing won’t be linear (because you’ve no map or wise future sage to guide you through), and sometimes it will feel like you’re back at square one. But you won’t be. Even the feeling of taking a step back – such as the time you leave a party early because you feel anxious – will be a step forward in a way, because making those decisions for yourself, and giving yourself what you need in the harder moments, will be an act of self-compassion, which is something you were sorely lacking before. Each time you have a ‘wobble’, you’ll glean new information that will help you move forward. How you treat yourself after said wobble will be where the difference is made.
You’re so incredibly in tune with your body now. It’s a two-way street of communication, not cut off like it used to be. Because of this experience, you take pleasure in the simplest things. And you’re happy.
You’re not broken. You never were. You are not unfixable; you just didn’t have the tools or the understanding or, most importantly, the self-compassion. Right now you’re a little lost, but you’ll come back to yourself in time; a more compassionate, calm, strong and happy version of yourself. What you’re feeling now will soon feel like one stormy chapter in a much bigger, more beautiful story. I promise you.
Caroline x
Mental time-travel
I’m a bit choked up after that, but there’s more to jumping forward in your mind’s eye and visualising things working out than wishful thinking. Dr Ethan Kross, neuroscientist and author, explained it to me like this:
‘When you mentally time-travel into the future and ask yourself, ‘How am I going to feel about this a month from now, a year from now or ten years from now?’ it reminds you that the way you’re feeling now is temporary. It will eventually pass. You know this to be true because you’ve lived through a lifetime of emotional experiences that take this form – things happen, you react emotionally, but then those emotions eventually subside. Mental time-travel into the future reminds you of this truism.
‘It’s a technique known as temporal distancing, and there’s a lot of great research on this topic by Ozlem Ayduk and her team at Berkeley. It’s science-based and has been shown to be useful in a variety of contexts. The beauty of mental time-travel into the future is that it’s a tool you carry with you wherever you go.
‘And it’s easy to use. So, commit to engaging in this exercise when you find yourself going down the anxiety rabbit hole.’
Dr Kross highlights something key about how our brains process emotion. The research on temporal distancing shows that by shifting our perspective, we can detach from the overwhelming emotions of the present moment. Anxiety, as you know all too well, tends to hyper-focus us on the now, distorting it to feel permanent, all-consuming and unending. Temporal distancing removes anxiety’s magnifying glass, so to speak, helping to break that cycle by zooming out and creating space between our current feelings and the larger context of our lives.
As for Ozlem Ayduk’s influential study, participants who practised this technique – imagining how they’d feel in the future about a current stressful event – reported lower levels of anxiety and greater emotional resilience. It helps us realise that most emotional experiences are temporary. You’ll start to feel relief when you remember This too shall pass. An age-old, comforting platitude has now levelled up to a powerful tool in its own right – backed by science. It’s not just something to soothe you, but a strategy you can actively use.
Looking back
Helpful as it is to jump forward, there’s a lot of value to be found in hitting the rewind button as well. Dr Kross explains: ‘Mental time-travel into the past can also, of course, be useful, but this technique works differently. It involves thinking about a time from your past (or someone else’s past) where you’ve successfully endured something challenging. If you were able to get through that, you can get through this.’
This helps you put your present struggle in the context of the bigger picture – one where challenges are inevitable, but surmountable.
Research consistently shows that emotional distress is temporary and that our brains are wired to adapt over time. Temporal distancing helps you step out of the pressure cooker of the present and into a calmer, more rational perspective. While many popular strategies urge us to stay grounded in the here and now (something I found deeply uncomfortable), there’s surprising merit to some occasional mental time-travel.
It too can be incredibly grounding. So please, go ahead and cast your mind into the future – with the benefit of the lived experience I’ve shared in this chapter, where overcoming anxiety is 100 per cent on the cards – and look back at how much you’ve already overcome.
The clarity and calm afforded by temporal distancing are what enable you to move forward with more breathing room and more self-compassion – which, incidentally, is our next port of call.
Everything I Wish I’d Known About Anxiety, by Caroline Foran, published by Gill Books, is out now priced €17.99
