When Nothing Works for Anxiety

In many immigrant families, there is already shame about expressing emotions. But then, you work through it enough to try to address difficult feelings. But nothing seems to work. Anxiety is especially guilt-inducing because it seems as though you should be able to control how worried you become about something. But what if we were to strip away the guilt, shame and judgmental thoughts about having emotions? It would create more room to examine why nothing is working.

Often, patients come in and they say, I’ve tried everything to calm anxiety but for some reason, nothing works. And what do I say? First, let’s put all that terrible judgment aside as best as possible. Once we do that, I take a closer look at two important things, technique and consistency.

So now, let’s go over some common problems with technique around three common anxiety reduction tools.

First, breathwork. You want to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Why does this matter? Because if you’re breathing in and out through your mouth, you’re actually taking in less oxygen and feeling more lighted-headed and anxious. You may even start to feel panicky.

Meditation. You wonder whether you’re doing it wrong, which gets in the way of allowing your mind to observe thoughts that are coming in. They can be scary, ugly, weird, silly, anxiety-provoking or boring, but whatever their nature, their just thoughts. See, judgment sneaks in even when we try to keep it at bay. But there isn’t a need to judge yourself on how you’re doing. If you’re sitting and taking the time to meditate, you’re doing it well.

Journaling. You may have been told to write down your anxious thoughts so that you can move them away from you. Or that writing out your thoughts can help you process them. But then you think, what should I write? If you go blank once you open up that journal, write about anything at all. Write about how you’re hungry or sleepy or have dishes to do. Write about how you’re bloated and annoyed. Write that you can’t think of anything to write about. Write down your grocery list. As you write random things, you’ll get to what’s underneath the surface. Take your time. You’ll get there.

Now, as far as all three, consistency is key. You may have tried one or all of these a few times here and there. But have you tried them consistently, every day for a couple weeks, a couple months? If you haven’t, try one for a month. See how that feels. Then you’ll have enough data to tweak the tool a bit. Technique and consistency bring results.

If you need some guidance around this, you might find Breathe and Release, a 12 month guided calming journal helpful. Go to the contact page and request more information.

Are You a Chai Alchemist Too?

I am the Chai Alchemist. When I was a little girl, the thing that made me most proud was to make the perfect cup of chai. I’d heat up the water in a steel pot and throw in the gritty chai grounds. The two boiled almost to the rim of the pot before I’d add the milk and spices, cardamom, clove, sometimes turmeric and a little bit of ginger too. Maybe black pepper.

It started out as something I was taught to do. Someone came over, we served them chai. Usually at least snacks too, if it was a more impromptu visit and definitely a whole meal with sides for the sides if it was planned. But at the very least, our guests couldn’t leave without having a cup of chai.

I knew that if someone was coming over, I’d have to get in that kitchen and start up the pot. Funny how of all the things I was made to do, this was one of the rare things I intrinsically loved to do. It was one of those rare times when everyone left me to my alchemy and when no other responsibility override the making of chai. The ceremony of it was honored.

I liked how everything else stopped. Because often, nothing stopped. Everything went by with lightning speed. The talking, the yelling, the organizing, the cleaning, everyone in the house shifting around, all the time. No one knew what it meant to be still, to revel in the peace that silence offered.

But when guests came, my parents were anchored in sitting with them. It was nice to see them do nothing else but have conversation. It kept them from worrying, fussing, rushing, running.

Making chai anchored us.

We all need it, anchoring. We need to pause, to sit in silence, to reflect, to hear our precious breath. We all need some form of making chai. We are all chai alchemists.