It feels embarrassing to be terrified of something that doesn’t exist.
The storm of emotions, that cocktail of the fear, and panic is bad — but knowing that thing happening is based on potential fears, and future worries — not an immediate threat — that makes the anxiety even more confounding.
Anxiety feels so pointless, and when I experience panic, it’s not that I don’t recognize the futility of it — the unfounded nature of my panic is never more clear.
I sit there, feeling broken, often over how senseless my tears really seem in that moment. I try to pull myself out, and it feels like a five hundred pound invisible weight is preventing that.
Thankfully, there are a few tricks I’ve learned that help me.
As simple as it sounds, humming is good, it signals the parasympathetic nervous system to kick in.
A mindfulness practice is great on a day to day basis, because it keeps me exercising that awareness that I need when the storm of panic sets in.
Exercising physically has helped me a lot.
Marcie Rohr, 2024
Remembering and reframing my life with a perspective of the big picture (and in my experience, that picture is really, really big — as in, eternal) — that also continues to ground and nurture me immensely.
Recently, I took a class to remember the way my brain works. I can now name anxiety for what it is: the limbic system (the emotional centre of the brain) going rogue and disconnecting from the cerebral cortex, or my brain’s reasoning centre. Read: raw, primal fear existing, apart from reasoning and context.
What has been helpful for me: learning to think of limbic system as my own inner child.
She is wonderful, and she is part of what makes me who I am, but if I’m in a situation that calls for context and reasoning, she is not the one to help me. She simply was not built for that purpose. That would be my prefrontal cortex, who I like to think of as the parent part of my brain.
When anxiety kicks in — the fears don’t need to be minimized, but the prefrontal cortex needs to make sense of them. I have to find ways to calm down myself, reduce the impression of an immediate threat, and let the prefrontal cortex do what she was built to do.
“Now, sweetie,” prefrontal cortex says to limbic system—
“It looks like you are very sad. Let’s take deep breaths.”
“I know you don’t feel like it, but you need to try.”
“Yes, you can”.
So.
I’m often anxious. I don’t try to be. It drives me crazy that I would be so afraid over something intangible on the outside.
One thing I’ve had to remember, over and over, is that
Marcie Rohr, 2024
Perfect Love is rooted in visibility.
Fear is rooted in invisibility
In my experience, there is nothing —
— and I mean nothing more powerful than making eye contact with someone
and hearing them say, “I see you.”
There is honestly nothing more calming to hear from another human being.
The fear? It’s stupid —yes —
—stupid simple.
It’s part of my physiology, and now that I understand it,
I’m less afraid— maybe not of the moments, but less afraid of myself. I feel less powerless.
I’ve learned to understand the parts of me that feel unseen,
and I’m learning to see.
For my whole life learning to see the world creatively has been a way of combatting anxiety.
It seems it’s easier to know about feeling seen, when I am learning to see.
It’s part of giving limbic system a break from her own constructed, often distorted, reality.
It’s part of letting the prefrontal cortex have a moment in the sun —when she steps back to consider the simple beauty of the world around her.
Creativity helps me see deeper meaning in the emotions and fears. Along the way, I’ve learned that creativity, especially viewing visual art, helps engage the pathway towards a calm nervous system.
Viewing art triggers the parasympathetic nervous system, signalling to my whole body that I am safe, and I can rest.
I’ve learned recently that making visual art for as little as forty five minutes can start the process of relaxing.
The meditative practice, especially one that is familiar, has a grounding, anchoring effect. Which is why I know it’s great to make time and space for creativity on the emotionally easier days — because when the hard ones come, the outlet is established and there is already a plan in place.
“All the Gifts that Still Remain”
Marcie Rohr, 2024
There have been many days that I’m convinced making art has saved my life, because making art has has salvaged my life force. It’s redirected my brain, and given me a peaceful outlet.
I’ve had the honour of engaging with viewers who have said that just stopping and looking at the paintings was the best part of their day.
How amazing is that?
Considering, some of my art was made on days when it felt hard to get out of bed that morning, after a restless night’s sleep. The art I made was like a medicine for my soul, and to see that look on someone else’s face knowing that in that moment, it became medicine for them too. It almost makes all those super hard moments worth it.
If you are on a journey with anxiety, and need support, never be afraid to reach out to supportive and caring people around you. If this is you today, and the struggle is real, and your prefrontal cortex is not rested enough to be fully present,
I’ll say it to you now:
Beauty is waiting for you, just around the corner. This too shall pass.
I encourage you to try to take a walk, sing a little song, find some flowers to look at —even if just on calendars at the dollar store.
Take a breath — a deep, intentional one.
And never hesitate to reach out to mental health support services if you need — if you need to reach someone where you live — check out this website :
Always remember, you are not alone, even when it seems that way.
You are seen.