A vacation hike taught me to stop resisting and embrace the experience, serving as a metaphor for the war with anxiety. Progress happens when we stop resisting anxiety and use mindfulness instead.
Anxiety can feel like anything from a nuisance to a terrifying ordeal. I struggled with it for decades with varying degrees of success. It felt like a constant battle, and by the end of 2020, it was a full-blown war. I decided to change that and opened myself up to mindfulness practices. It’s the most progress I’ve made with anxiety in 20 years. A recent hike presented the perfect metaphor for my change in thinking and a lesson to stop resisting anxiety, use mindfulness instead.
A vacation hike
Last week, Andrew and I were lucky enough to spend 24 hours at a nearby resort, Castle Hot Springs. Nestled at the base of the Bradshaw Mountains, Castle Hot Springs is a small resort focused on mind-body wellness. Perhaps it was the seven-mile dirt road we took to get there or the oasis-like setting, but it felt like we were in a remote destination. It was a much-needed mental reset for both of us.
On Thursday morning, between a meditation session (which I wrote about here) and paddle board yoga (post coming soon!) we hiked their Agave Trail. It was a quick ascent up one of the surrounding mountains with breathtaking, 360-degree views at the top. On one side of the mountain was the resort, on the other, a view of Lake Pleasant. My pictures don’t do it justice. It was awesome.
As we turned to head back down, another passerby warned the descent would be steep. A similar thought crossed my mind as I navigated the loose gravel path on the way up. I don’t mind climbing, but I’m not a fan of loose gravel on a hiking path. It can be slippery, which is undesirable when there’s a steep cliff to one side and a sharp cactus to the other.
On guard and fearful of slipping, I lead the way as we started our descent. My whole body was tense as I stalled with each step. I was overthinking the placement of each foot, considering multiple ways to turn, move, and brace myself. The more I resisted and feared the gravel, the slower I went and the more I felt out of control. At one point, the gravel gave way under my feet. Instinctively, I threw my arms in the air, tensed every muscle, and tried to stop.
I quickly regained my balance, but it was scary. To me, it felt like I had slipped down several yards of pathway, as if in a cartoon and on out-of-control skates. To Andrew, I’m sure it looked like my heel slipped two inches. “You ok?” he asked. “I’m good,” I answered with embarrassment. I kept going, eyes on the ground in front of me.
Behind me, I heard Andrew trot effortlessly down the same slippery path. He saw the loose gravel on the path and embraced it. Knowing it would be slippery, he loosened up and allowed his body to move quickly. This was contrasted by my slow, controlled movements. He wasn’t being reckless, but he wasn’t resisting like I was. Rather than digging his heels in, he stayed on his toes. By letting go of some control, he was able to navigate the path with more control. Plus, it looked like he was enjoying himself.
And that’s when it dawned on me. I had to let go of control and stop resisting. Instead, I had to lean into and embrace the shifting ground below me. A little uncertainty and discomfort were allowable without fear or negative judgements. A shift in thinking was necessary. It wasn’t scary, it was simply a few steps on loose gravel. I could move quickly and roll with the shifting gravel instead of fearing a loss of control. There wasn’t a problem to solve. Rather, it could just be. I decided to move with the mountain instead of resisting it.
Like Andrew, I trotted down the next patch of rough terrain. Instead of stopping, bracing, and overthinking, I was able to take the few steps with ease. And guess what? It was more fun. I wasn’t just hiking down the mountain, I was enjoying myself. This wasn’t a task to finish, a problem to solve, or a situation to control. It was an experience to embrace. With that small win, I gained some confidence. The next portion of loose gravel I handled effortlessly, with practically no thought. Soon after, we were back where we started and heading off to yoga.
The hike as a metaphor
You might be thinking, “It’s great you didn’t die on your hike, but what the hell does this have to do with anxiety?” I’m glad you asked! My hike experience is the perfect metaphor for how I approached anxiety in the past.
When anxiety set in, I felt my heartrate increase and the fearful thoughts started circulating. I braced myself mentally and physically. My muscles tensed, my breathing grew shallow, and I monitored my body for signs of distress. My body and mind screamed, “no, no, no!” while the anxiety gained momentum.
The more I resisted, the more uncomfortable I became. I was white knuckling it, fighting the anxiety. Pretty soon, I would be stuck in my head trying to rationalize the anxiety away and loosing sight of the present moment. Metaphorically, I was slipping on the loose gravel path while digging into my resistance.
When I stopped fighting the anxiety and learned to allow it to be, it became easier to manage. Easing the mental fight with anxiety is helping me be present. Similarly, the less I fought the gravel on the hiking path, the better I was able to navigate it. Loosening up and allowing the gravel to shift below my feet as I trotted down the path, helped me work with the path, not against it. I was able to be present and enjoy the moment.
A mindful approach to anxiety
My war with anxiety ended when I started my Commitment to Calm. I dedicated myself to practicing calming techniques and learning mindfulness strategies. Instead of resisting anxiety, I’m sitting with it. I allow the feelings to take place without judgement. This sounds esoteric, something I might’ve rolled my eyes at in the past. In reality, it’s pretty easy to practice and actually works.
Here’s an example. In the past, when I felt anxious, I tried to convince myself my heartrate was fine. The more I tried to convince myself I was fine, the more I needed to monitor my heartrate. The more I monitored my heartrate, the faster it became. The faster my heart beat, the more anxious I felt. I tried to be rational; the anxiety got stronger.
Contrast that with the mindful approach I am working on now. When I start to feel anxious, I think about where in my body the sensations are originating. If my heart is racing, I put my hand to my chest and take note. I’m not taking my pulse or making a good/bad judgement. Instead, I’m simply giving attention to that space and observing. I’m recognizing how it feels and allowing it to be. There is no resistance, no rationalizing.
Likewise, I put my hand to my stomach when I feel it clenching up. I acknowledge the tension without trying to change it. Sometimes that’s all I need for the anxiety to subside. Other times, I investigate further. I wonder why I might be feeling anxious. I talk to myself like a friend.
Rather than try to convince myself to not feel anxious, I practice self-compassion. I accept that I have anxiety and reassure myself I’m safe. If you’ve read my previous posts, you’ll recognize this is a popular mindful approach. Much of this progress can be attributed to my work using RAIN (Recognize, Acknowledge, Investigate, Nurture). This mindful approach to anxiety is more effective than resistance.
Rationality as a form of resistance
As I mentioned before, I was taught Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) techniques when first diagnosed with anxiety. I learned to label the anxiety and approach it with rational problem solving. In other words, I would identify my thoughts or physical sensations as anxiety. Then, I would focus on why I shouldn’t feel anxious. Alternatively, I would consider, “Well, what’s the worst that can happen?” This was an attempt to convince myself that even if the worst-case scenario came true, (which surely, it wouldn’t) I would be fine.
These CBT techniques were useful and brought me a lot of relief, but they had their limitations. Some rationality was good, but too much rationalizing with myself created a new problem. I was keeping my mind busy arguing with the anxiety but not actually feeling any better. In some ways, the rationalizing was becoming a compulsive habit. It kept my head in the clouds while preventing me from being present in the moment.
Despite becoming a pro at using CBT, I felt like I was arguing with myself a lot. I would fight the anxiety with rationality only to have the anxiety persist. As my therapist put it, “Your anxiety doesn’t give a damn about your rationality.” She was right. Rationality was just another form of resistance.
I heard another piece of advice which resonated with me. I was listening to one of UCLA’s Mindful Awareness Podcasts with Diana Winston. She said, “We can’t out-think ourselves from the anxiety. We can learn to come into our bodies and get in touch with these sensations and learn to hold them with mindful awareness, kindness, and compassion with ourselves.” And that’s what I’ve been doing.
Thus, I don’t resist or try to rationally argue my way out of anxiety anymore. Fighting the anxiety was futile in my head, just as fighting the gravel was futile on the mountain. I encourage others to give RAIN a try, learn to stop resisting anxiety, use mindfulness instead.
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