ANXIETY Challenge by Another Name
ANXIETY Challenge by Another Name
What is your basis for making personal decisions? Do you aim to rock the boat as little as
possible, choosing the easy, familiar path? There is comfort in sticking with what is safe and
well-known, just as there is comfort in eating mashed potatoes. But James Lincoln Collier,
author of numerous articles and books, decided soon after leaving college not to live a
mashed-potato sort of life. In this essay, first published in Readers Digest, he tells how he
learned to recognize the marks of a potentially exciting, growth-inducing experience, to set
aside his anxiety, and to dive in.
feelings we have at a job interview, when were giving a big party, when we
have to make an important presentation at the office. And the kind of
depression I am referring to is that downhearted feeling of the blues, when
we dont seem to be interested in anything, when we cant get going and
seem to have no energy.
I was confronted by this sort of situation toward the end of my senior
year. As graduation approached, I began to think about taking a crack at
making my living as a writer. But one of my professors was urging me to
apply to graduate school and aim at a teaching career.
I wavered. The idea of trying to live by writing was scary - a lot more
scary than spending a summer on the pampas, I thought. Back and forth I
went, making my decision, unmaking it. Suddenly, I realized that every time I
gave up the idea of writing, that sinking feeling went through me; it gave me
the blues.
The thought of graduate school wasnt what depressed me. It was
giving up on what deep in my gut I really wanted to do. Right then I learned
another lesson. To avoid that kind of depression meant, inevitably, having to
endure a certain amount of worry and concern.
The great Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard believed that anxiety
always arises when we confront the possibility of our own development. It
seems to be a rule of life that you cant advance without getting that old,
familiar, jittery feeling.
Even as children we discover this when we try to expand ourselves by,
say, learning to ride a bike or going out for the school play. Later in life we
get butterflies when we think about having that first child, or uprooting the
family from the old hometown to find a better opportunity halfway across the
country. Any time, it seems that we set out aggressively to get something we
want, we meet up with anxiety. And its going to be our travelling companion,
at least part of the way, in any new venture.
When I first began writing magazine articles, I was frequently required
to interview big names people like Richard Burton, Joan Rivers, sex
authority William Masters, baseball great Dizzy Dean. Before each interview I
would get butterflies and my hands would shake.
At the time, I was doing some writing about music. And one person I
particularly admired was the great composer Duke Ellington. On stage and
on television, he seemed the very model of the confident, sophisticated man
of the world. Then I learned that Ellington still got stage fright. If the highly
honored Duke Ellington, who had appeared on the bandstand some ten
thousand times over thirty years, had anxiety attacks, who was I to think I
could avoid them?
I went on doing those frightening interviews, and one day, as I was
getting onto a plane for Washington to interview columnist Joseph Alsop, I
suddenly realized to my astonishment that I was looking forward to the
meeting. What had happened to those butterflies?
Well, in truth, they were still there, but there were fewer of them. I had
benefited, I discovered, from a process psychologists call extinction. If you
put an individual in an anxiety-provoking situation often enough, he will
eventually learn that there isnt anything to be worried about.
Which brings us to a corollary to my basic rule: youll never eliminate
anxiety by avoiding the things that caused it. I remember how my son Jeff
was when I first began to teach him to swim at the lake cottage where we
spent our summer vacations. He resisted, and when I got him into the water
he sank and sputtered and wanted to quit. But I was insistent. And by
summers end he was splashing around like a puppy. He had extinguished
his anxiety the only way he could by confronting it.
The problem, of course, is that it is one thing to urge somebody else to
take on those anxiety-producing challenges; it is quite another to get
ourselves to do it.
Some years ago I was offered a writing assignment that would require
three months of travel through Europe. I had been abroad a couple of times
on my way around the continent. Moreover, my knowledge of foreign
languages was limited to a little college French.
I hesitated. How would I, unable to speak the language, totally
unfamiliar with local geography or transportation systems, set up interviews
and do research? It seemed impossible, and with considerable regret I sat
down to write a letter begging off. Halfway through, a thought which I
subsequently made into another corollary to my basic rule ran through my
mind: you cant learn if you dont try. So I accepted the assignment.
There were some bad moments. But by the time I had finished the trip
I was an experienced traveler. And ever since, I have never hesitated to head
for even the most exotic places, without guides or even advance bookings,
confident that somehow I will manage.
The point is that the new, the different, is almost by definition scary.
But each time you try something, you learn, and as the learning piles up, the
world opens to you.
Ive made parachute jumps, learned to ski at forty, flown up the Rhine
in a balloon. And I know Im going to go on doing such things. Its not
because Im braver or more daring than others. Im not. But I dont let the
butterflies stop me from doing what I want. Accept anxiety as another name
for challenge, and you can accomplish wonders.
c. interested.
c. discouraged.
d. amused.
c. Becoming a Writer
d. The Courage to Travel