Anxiety

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Fermata (1994)

  I wanted to tell her the shocking thing that I had done. I wanted her to forgive me and love me for it. Here is how I asked her out the next day. Around eleven-thirty, she came by to drop off a tape and waved. I whipped off my phones. “How were things here last week?” I asked. Joyce was wearing a green dress I’d never seen before; her black hair was loosely tied in back with the Cyrillic scarf. I took this as a good omen. “I’m swamped with various disasters,” she said. “We missed you. The person they sent to fill in for you was none too speedy.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” I held out my hand and Joyce gave me the microcassette. “I’ll have this done in no time,” I said. “I’ve missed these tapes, you know. I like being in the middle of typing something you’ve just said into my ear and looking up and seeing you walk across the floor.” This took Joyce a tiny bit by surprise. “How was your vacation?” “It was good, quite good. Long , though.” “What have you been up to?” “I’ve been—this sounds insane—but I’ve been writing my autobiography,” I said. “Have you led an interesting life?” Joyce asked. I leaned forward. “Well, you know—I have! I have. What about you?” “No.” “That’s unfortunate,” I said. “What can I do to help?” “Find someone to sweep me away somewhere. The problem is that I have no time to do interesting stuff, because I’m so busy doing stuff that’s uninteresting. Actually, on Saturdays I go to a botanical drawing class at the Arnold Arboretum.” “Oh, well there , that’s a positive step,” I said. “I haven’t drawn a plant in years. Is it fun?” “Yes,” said Joyce. “Plants sit still. It’s like meditation, but it’s better, because you’re thinking about the plant, and not about yourself.” I shook my head sadly. “I wish I had more art in my life right now. I did allow some medical researchers to paint reflective paint on several parts of my body a few months ago. Does that count as an artistic experience?” “I should think so,” said Joyce. She asked what the researchers were trying to find out. I told her it had to do with my carpal-tunnel problem. “They were trying to figure out how much of my problem was due to typing and how much was due to other factors.” “Like what other factors? You know I have a touch of carpal, too,” she confided. “I’m sorry. The other main factor was—well—it’s this hobby of mine, something I do in my spare time.” “Oh?” she said. “In fact,” I said, “I have to talk to you about it.” “About—?”

• From Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (2000)

  The exit-counseling team prepared their usual educational model of information and dialogue, then brought in a licensed psychotherapist with expertise In both thought-reform techniques and dissociative disorders." Christina was eager to cooperate because her dissociative symptoms and anxiety were causing her severe distress. She was highly motivated to improve, though she had considerable difficulty controlling her dissociative states. The exit counseling went smoothly. The team's psychotherapist was able to evaluate Christina's dissociative states using the Dissociative Experiences Scale (DES) and the Structured Clinical Interview for DSM-III-R Dissociative Disorders (SCID-D).13 Christina's high scores on both scales were almost totally confined to the areas of depersonalization and derealization, with some shortterm memory loss consistent with her dissociative states. She scored low for amnesia, identity confusion, and identity alteration. With this evaluation, more pervasive and serious dissociative disorders were tentatively ruled out. This exploration of dissociation allowed the team also to discuss altered states brought about by the abuse of meditation and hypnosis. At the end of three days of sensitive, gently paced counseling, Christina admitted to engaging in almost constant waking use of her mantras. She was able to see the connections between her dissociative states and her meditation practice. The team also provided material on the history and current practices of the group and its guru, which helped her to evaluate them objectively and eventually decide to sever her ties to the cult. Christina was encouraged to continue taking her medication and seeing her psychiatrist, as it would take time to determine if meditation alone was causing her depersonalization disorder and anxiety attacks. After the intervention, Christina entered counseling with someone familiar with cults and thought reform and attended a local ex-member support group. Family therapy was also strongly recommended. Continued testing with another neurologist confirmed that she did not have TLE and, slowly, under her doctor's supervision, she began to go off some of her medications. Christina still had far to go in her recovery from her cult experience. She experienced floating episodes for several weeks, sometimes associated with severe anxiety. Episodes of depersonalization and derealization, however, diminished in frequency and duration. She continued to need help with her perfectionism, modulation of feeling states, and realistic planning for the future (such as moving out of her parents' home, finding new directions in her career, and coming to terms with her changing values and beliefs). Most of all, she needed reassurance that what she was going through was normal for a person with her degree of cult involvement, and that with patience, she would pass through this difficult stage. Christina's case illustrates the confusion in diagnosis that is likely to occur when cult involvement is not taken into account. It is also a good example of the interplay that can occur between various professionals, agencies, and resources once cult involvement is recognized as a significant factor in symptomatology. Psychological TestingMany psychometric instruments may prove helpful to the clinician working with current or former cult members.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  So Pranav walked himself through Replace and Embrace. With specify, specify, specify, he pondered. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “I guess it’s that I’ll be a burden, will be annoying, or will be catching the person at an inconvenient time.” What’s the worst that can happen? “I guess whoever’s on the other end of the line will think I don’t have my stuff together. They’ll think I’m not competent enough to know when to call or what to say.” Excellent. Houston, we have our problem: “They’ll think I don’t have my stuff together.” Okay, so let’s walk our way through the questions. First up: “How bad would that really be?” Pranav thinks for a minute. “It’s not exactly a disaster,” he said slowly. “It’s not like I would die or something. But I picture them rolling their eyes and talking to me like I’m in preschool.” He asked himself the question again: And how bad would that really be? “It feels bad. It would be embarrassing.” But with a worst-case scenario whittled down from snarling guard dog to yappy ankle-biter, he was able to think, Well, I’ve sure felt that a lot. I guess it’s not horrible. It’s like a kidney stone—feels bad, but it always passes. I guess if someone thinks I don’t have my stuff together to order pad thai it doesn’t mean I don’t have my stuff together in general. Awesome. Now for What are the odds? Pranav thinks. He concludes: “These guys have probably heard it all. Drunken stories. Arguments. They probably don’t care if I change my order midstream.” Finally, How would you cope? Pranav ponders. “If someone was annoyed? I guess there’s nothing to do. I’d feel bad about it for a few minutes, but then I’d probably get distracted by the next thing: my kids, my work, something.” With this, Pranav shrunk his anxiety from Venti to Short. It didn’t disappear, but it was helpful to remind himself it wasn’t as bad as he first thought—plus he could handle it. Next, Embrace. First Pranav struggled with mindfulness. It was too hard to notice the thoughts without doing something about them. The problem solver in him got tangled too easily. Then, one Thursday evening, Pranav was exhausted. It had already been a long week and the final thing on his schedule was to call a collaborator in Australia. Pranav’s brain started dreading the call, but at that moment he found he could let the thoughts go. “I was basically too tired to respond. I was mindful by accident, but I was mindful. I saw the worried thoughts run and just said, ‘Meh.’ I got excited when I realized what had happened—it really was like realizing you’re watching a movie.”

• From Real Sex for Real Women (2008)

  Doing it allThe trouble with women is that we pride ourselves on doing it all. Even though we excel at working a double shift—holding down a full-time job then coming home to housework, cooking, and raising children—we find it hard to relax and enjoy life. To make matters worse, we often refuse help because we believe only we can do it right. Even when given the opportunity to relax, we often choose to spend the time packing lunches, answering emails, or writing a mental to-do list. Life-enhancing time offIt might not be your partner or children that are stopping you from making time for sex—instead, it might be juggling commitments at work, at home, and with friends. Time for yourself will reward you with greater productivity and improve your relationships with colleagues and friends. Whatever its source, lack of sleep, stress, and a busy lifestyle cause many women to experience fatigue, weight gain, moodiness, and low sex drive. So the next time you’re running ragged all day, don’t be surprised if you head to bed feeling as sexy as a turnip. You might not be sure where or how discovering your sexuality is supposed to fit into your busy life. But accept that you need time to rest and recuperate. If, like many women, you place sex at the bottom of your to-do list, it might be time to review your priorities and make time for sex. In order to have the best relationship and sex life possible, start by following the three Ds—delegate, decrease, and disengage—to overcome stress, and find time to enhance sex and intimacy with your partner. Delegate: extend your timeMounting, nagging to-do lists drive us—and our partners—crazy, and we aren’t doing anyone any favors by trying to do it all. Our bosses and co-workers are deprived of a calm colleague, our kids of a relaxed mother, our partners and our friends of spending quality time with us. We are deprived of energy, liveliness, and rest. Prioritize your tasks. If you have a to-do list that includes more than five or six items, it is time to rethink. Put dates against tasks, and stars against anything you cannot delegate. Cross out nonessential tasks. Your delegation operation might involve a monthly cleaning service. Housekeeping services are quite affordable, so let go of the reins and hand over the mop. Meanwhile, you will have gained an hour of rest and recuperation, which will boost your mood and your libido. Use technology to make your life easier. Order your groceries, birthday presents, and household items online. Save shopping trips for when you want to choose some sexy new underwear. Decrease: simplifyHow do you decrease? Take a deep breath and let go of perfection. Okay, so there are crumbs on the kitchen table—the world is not going to end. Barring a major bug problem, it should be safe for you to go to sleep at night without sweeping up every crumb in the house.

• From Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (2000)

  Ganga has also requested a support group of other children who have been in cults, but we have been unable to locate other children in our area. Other Pertinent IssuesResearch has highlighted the importance of the following issues for people who were born or raised in cults. These former cult members need: • Immediate medical and dental examinations with appropriate vaccinations against childhood diseases • Instant instruction about how some of the attitudes and behaviors learned in the cult do not go over well in the outside world • Exposure to educational and social experiences that help youngsters relate and adapt to the larger society, including its value systems • Training in conflict-resolution techniques, mediation, and the art of compromise • If children identified with the cult leader, they may need therapy with behavioral management • Help with trust and safety issues • Help for teenagers who tend to rebel once out of the cult and are at high risk for acting-out behaviors and substance abuse • Help for parents in reestablishing their own leadership roles within the family structure • Active intervention and communication within the school system and in discussing the role of the cult in the child's life with teachers and administrators26 Of course, postcult issues will express themselves somewhat differently in each family, depending on the age of the children, how long they were in the cult, what kinds of experiences they had, and the circumstances of leaving. In instances where parents and/or siblings remain in the cult, young people will face extraordinary challenges in entering and adjusting to mainstream society. Additionally, the Safe Passage Foundation (www.safepassagefoundation.org) points out that youths who leave cults without adequate education or job skills "are easily marginalized and exceptionally vulnerable to exploitation by gangs and the sex trade, suicide, medical complications, crime and substance abuse ... Adolescents may leave [their] communities with little or no money or knowledge of family contacts who could provide help. Some even escape secretly. They may fear or mistrust authority and government officials and are unlikely to quickly locate the resources available in the widely dispersed and fragmentary support agencies that exist worldwide. Even after the initial crisis period of adjustment has passed, this often invisible and silent demographic remains at high risk of depression, self-mutilation, alienation, substance abuse, suicide and accidental death."27 Fortunately today there are some (but still not nearly enough) resources, support networks, and an increasing understanding of the needs and concerns of this subpopulation of former cult members. The Safe Passage Foundation is one promising organization, as are the many websites created and maintained by former members of myriad groups. Also, we are witnessing growing awareness about children in cults among social scientists, mental health practitioners, and legal professionals. This awareness had led to the production of video documentaries, media coverage, scientific research, publications, and congressional appeals. Identity Issues for Children Entering or Reentering Mainstream SocietyIdentity is a mental construct that provides a framework for relating to the world.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  It took quite half-an-hour for the pageant to pass; and when it had done so the people put their fingers to their lips, and whistled and cheered and clapped. Mrs Fryer wept, because her neighbour’s eldest daughter was walking in the line, dressed as a match-girl.I wished that Florence were with me, and kept looking for her damson-coloured suit and her daisy, but - though I saw just about every other unionist who had ever passed through our parlour — I did not see her once. When I found her at last, she was in the speakers’ tent: she had spent all afternoon there, listening to the lectures. ‘Have you heard?’ she said when she saw me. ‘There’s a rumour that Eleanor Marx is coming: I daren’t leave the tent, for fear of missing her address!’ It turned out she had eaten nothing since breakfast: I went off to buy her a packet of whelks from a stall, and a cup of ginger ale. When I returned I found Ralph beside her, sweating, still pulling at his collar, and paler than ever. Every seat in the tent was taken, and there were people standing, besides. It was stiflingly hot, and the heat was making everyone restless and cross. One speaker had recently made an unpopular point, and been booed from the platform.‘They won’t boo you, Ralph,’ I said; but when I saw that he was really miserable, I took his arm, left the baby with Florence, and led him from his seat into the cooler air outside. ‘Come on, come and have a fag with me. You mustn’t let the crowd see you are nervous.’We stood just beyond a flap of the tent - a couple of men from Ralph’s factory went by, and raised their hands to us - and I lit us two cigarettes. Ralph’s fingers shook as he held his, and he almost dropped it, then smiled apologetically: ‘What a fool you must think me.’‘Not at all! I remember how frightened I was on my first night; I thought I would be sick.’‘I thought I would be sick, a moment ago.’‘Everybody thinks it, and no one is’ This wasn’t quite true: I had often seen nervous artistes bent over bowls and fire-buckets at the side of the stage; but I did not, of course, tell Ralph this.‘Did you ever play before a crowd that was rather rough, Nance?’ he asked me now.‘What?’ I said. ‘At one hall - Deacon’s, in Islington - there was a poor comedian on before us and some fellows jumped on to the stage and held him upside-down over the footlights, trying to set his hair on fire.’

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  Only when the bells had rung half-past five did I step again into the courtyard, and look about me: I was now almost numb. There was a little girl nearby, carrying a great tray about her neck, filled with bundles of watercresses. I went up to her, and asked how far it was to Quilter Street; and then, because she looked so sad and cold and damp - and also because I had a confused idea that I must not turn up on Florence’s doorstep entirely empty-handed - I bought the biggest of her cress bouquets. It cost a ha’penny.With this cradled awkwardly in the crook of my stiff arm I began the short walk to the street I wanted; soon I found myself at the end of a wide terrace of low, flat houses - not a squalid terrace, by any means, but not a very smart one either, for the glass in some of the street-lamps was cracked, or missing entirely, and the pavement was blocked, here and there, by piles of broken furniture, and by heaps of what the novels politely term ashes. I looked at the number of the nearest door: number 1. I started slowly down the street. Number 5 ... number 9 ... number 11 ... I felt weaker than ever... 15 ... 17...19...Here I stopped, for now I could see the house I sought quite clearly. Its drapes were drawn against the dark, and luminous with lamplight; and seeing them, I felt suddenly quite sick with apprehension. I placed a hand against the wall, and tried to steady myself; a boy walked by me, whistling, and gave me a wink - I suppose he thought I had been drinking. When he had passed I looked about me at the unfamiliar houses in a kind of panic: I could remember the sense of purpose that had visited me in Green Street, but it seemed a piece of wildness, now, a piece of comedy - I would tell it to Florence, and she would laugh in my face.But I had come so far; and there was nowhere to turn back to. So I crept to the rosy window, and then to the door; and then I knocked, and waited. I seemed to have presented myself at a thousand thresholds that day, and been cruelly disappointed or repulsed, at all of them. If there was no word of kindness for me here, I thought, I would die.At last there came a murmur and a step, and the door was opened; and it was Florence herself who stood there - looking remarkably as she had when I had seen her first, peering into the darkness, framed against the light and with the same glorious halo of burning hair.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  When we left the Troc, however, it was to drive to Deacon’s Music Hall, in Islington. This was an altogether different place: small and old, with an audience drawn from the streets and courts of Clerkenwell - and inclined, in consequence, to be rather rough.We didn’t mind a rowdy crowd, as a rule, for it could be unnerving to work the prim West End theatres, where the ladies were too gentle or well-dressed to bang their hands together or to stamp, and where only the drunken swells of the promenade really whistled and shouted as a proper music-hall audience should. We had never worked Deacon’s before, but we had once done a week at Sam Collins’, up the road. There the crowd had been humble and gay - working-people, women with babies in their arms - the kind of audience I liked best of all, because it was the kind of which, until very recently, I had myself been a member.The Deacon’s crowd were noticeably shabbier than the folk at Islington Green, but no less kind; if anything, indeed, they were inclined to be kinder, jollier, more willing to be moved and thrilled and entertained. Our first week there went well - they packed the hall for us. It was on the Saturday night of the second week that the trouble came - on a Saturday night at the end of September, a night of fog - one of those grey-brown evenings, when all the streets and buildings of the city seem to waver a little at the edges.The roads are always choked on such a night, and on this particular evening the traffic between Windmill Street and Islington was horribly slow, for there had been an accident along the way. A van had overturned; a dozen boys had rushed to sit upon the horse’s head, to stop the beast from rising; and our own carriage could not pass for half an hour or more. We arrived at Deacon’s terribly late, to find the place as wild as the street we had just left. The crowd had had to wait for us, and were impatient. Some poor artiste had been sent on to sing a comic song and keep them occupied, but they had started to heckle him quite mercilessly; at last - the fellow had begun a clog dance - two roughs had jumped upon the stage and pulled the boots from him, and tossed them up to the gallery. When we arrived, breathless and flustered but ready to sing, the air was thick with shouts and bellows and screams of laughter. The two roughs had hold of the comic singer by the ankles, and were holding him so that his head dangled over the flames of the footlights, in an attempt to set fire to his hair.

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. JAMES 5:14–15I will not fear, because God is with me. I will not be discouraged, because God will strengthen me and help me. ISAIAH 41:10 Jesus was pierced for my transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds I am healed. ISAIAH 53:4–5But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds, declares the LORD . JEREMIAH 30:17Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all His benefits - who forgives all my sins and heals my diseases, who redeems my life from the pit and crowns me with love and compassion. PSALM 103:2–45 STRESS & ANXIETY My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. PSALM 73:26For God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 2 TIMOTHY 1:7When anxiety is great within me, your consolation brings me joy. PSALM 94:19I will not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, I will present my requests to God. PHILIPPIANS 4:6I will cast all my anxiety on Him because He cares for me. 1 PETER 5:76 WISDOM The Lord gives wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding. PROVERBS 2:6I will not forsake wisdom, and she will protect me; I will love wisdom, and she will watch over me. The beginning of wisdom is this: get wisdom. Though it costs all I have, I will get understanding. PROVERBS 4:6–7But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. JAMES 3:17My heart plans my way, but the Lord directs my steps. PROVERBS 16:97 JOY I will count it all joy when I fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of my faith produces patience. JAMES 1: 2Hear, Lord, and be merciful to me; Lord, be my help. You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. PSALM 30:10–11The joy of the Lord is my strength. NEHEMIAH 8:10May the God of hope fill me with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit I may abound in hope. ROMANS 15:138 PURITY To the pure, all things are pure. TITUS 1:15Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. MATTHEW 5:8Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. PSALM 51:10How can a young person stay on the path of purity?

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  It had grown darker during my time in the office, and wet and foggy. The street-lamps had all been lit, and every carriage had a lantern swinging from it; City Road was not, however, like Soho, where light streamed upon the pavements from a thousand flares and windows. For every ten paces of my journey that were illuminated by a pool of gas-light, there were a further twenty that were cast in gloom.The gloom lifted a little at Old Street itself, for here there were offices, and crowded bus stops and shops. As I walked towards the Hackney Road, however, it seemed only to deepen, and my surroundings to grow shabbier. The crossings at the Angel had been decent enough; here the roads were so clogged with manure that, every time a vehicle rumbled by, I was showered with filth. My fellow pedestrians, too - who, so far, had all been honest working-people, men and women in coats and hats as faded as my own - grew poorer. Their suits were not just dingy, but ragged. They had boots, but no stockings. The men wore scarves instead of collars, and caps rather than bowlers; the women wore shawls; the girls wore dirty aprons, or no apron at all. Everyone seemed to have some kind of burden - a basket, or a bundle, or a child upon their hip. The rain fell harder.I had been told by the tea-girl at the Angel to head for Columbia Market; now, a little way along the Hackney Road, I found myself suddenly on the edge of its great, shadowy courtyard. I shivered. The huge granite hall, its towers and tracery as elaborate as those on a gothic cathedral, was quite dark and still. A few rough-looking fellows with cigarettes and bottles slouched in its arches, blowing on their hands to keep the cold off.A sudden clamour in the clock tower made me start. Some complicated pealing of bells - as fussy and useless as the great abandoned market hall itself - was chiming out the hour: it was a quarter-past four. This was far too early to visit Florence’s house, if Florence herself was at work all day: so I stood for another hour in one of the arches of the market where the wind was not so cutting and the rain was not so hard.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  Harris’s Google search that night took him on an ill-fated multiyear journey deep into the pickup artist scene. Harris thought it was his social skills that had stymied his love life and assumed “how to” rules would improve them.3 Instead, it left him vulnerable to a rigid system that viewed women as algorithms at best, targets at worst. “The seduction scene,” Harris said, “basically taught me to be manipulative and controlling, and if a woman did something outside the flowchart, something was wrong with her. I had wanted to get better socially, but it was more like really high-pressure sales tactics. It was really toxic.” Fast-forward fifteen years. Today, Harris is the creator of Paging Dr. NerdLove, an award-winning blog that manages to be practical, hilarious, and insightful all at once. With the pickup scene long behind him, he dispenses love and dating advice to nerds, geeks, otaku, and gamers “without all of the toxic parts—what works and is healthy.” As Harris says as Dr. NerdLove, “Geeks have the worst superpower in the world—we can anticipate the worst possible outcome to anything. We can tell you exactly how walking up and saying hi to someone is going to end with us going to jail.” But it’s not just geeks—anyone experiencing social anxiety feels as if their social skills are slipping from their grasp. And sometimes they do slip-slide away. Our worries become a self-fulfilling prophecy. But it’s not just you. It’s so common it has a name: anxiety-induced performance deficits. This is when, precisely because we’re anxious, we start to act oddly. We go blank. We spill our drink. We fall, and not in an adorable Zooey Deschanel kind of way. In a cruel twist of irony, this sets off other people’s alarm bells and creates awkward moments. Because we’re sending signals that something’s off, it sets off the threat-o-meter of people around us—the lizard brain at its most basic. Whether it’s a deer’s white tail bounding away, a cloud of ink where the octopus once was, or Derrick or Harris approaching women with a vibe of, It’s okay; I wouldn’t want to talk to me, either, when we send out signals of threat others look at us so they can react accordingly and keep themselves safe. But everyone looking at us at our most awkward is the last thing we wanted, not to mention the thing we most feared. When we’re feeling inhibited, we’re already overthinking. We can’t access our skills unconsciously anymore, so sometimes we have to remember them consciously. Big asterisk: you already know how to do all these, but when we feel intimidated and inhibited we magically forget. Here’s a reminder for the next time you feel on the verge of releasing your own cloud of ink.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  The worst, Diego said, was when he had to do a physical exam and actually touch someone’s body. “And the absolute worst is when I have to do a Pap smear, a breast exam, a testicular exam, or anything like that,” he said. Between being observed by supervisors and having to touch patients, Diego said, “I’m anxious all the time.” So Diego worked hard to cover himself. When he spoke, he monitored himself to ensure he was using his “doctor voice” and sufficiently impressive vocabulary. While other people were talking, he thought about what to say next, weighing and rehearsing to make sure he didn’t say anything impolite, insensitive, or stupid. But all Diego’s impression management—focusing on his anxiety and monitoring what he said—was royally screwing up his work. He often missed what was being said to him—by patients, attending physicians, his resident. He had to ask people to repeat themselves. He would get distracted and lose his place while taking a history or forget the entire circulatory system while performing a physical. During bedside teaching sessions, he didn’t answer the attendings’ questions unless they asked him directly, and then his mind would go blank, unable to remember the lines he had just been rehearsing in his head. But after a couple of months in the hospital, his midsemester evaluations, to put it lightly, left room for improvement. He was distracted and unfocused, said the residents. He seemed preoccupied, said the attendings. Diego was discouraged and unnerved. He wanted nothing more than to do well, to be a good doctor. Something had to change. * * * As you know by now, social anxiety is fundamentally a distortion: it’s a mistaken belief that something is wrong with you and everyone will notice. That you’ll be Revealed. But that’s not the only lie social anxiety tells. In this section of How to Be Yourself, we’ll put the myths of social anxiety in the hot seat. Diego is a classic example of the first myth of social anxiety: I must always monitor myself and my anxiety. He plans and rehearses what he says, ensures his voice isn’t squeaky or cracking, and weighs his words to ensure he simultaneously sounds smart, doesn’t offend anyone, and generally avoids criticism. But all this impression management is exhausting, plus in the end, it actually hinders his performance and keeps him mired in social anxiety.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  For lots of people, grocery shopping squarely presses their social anxiety button. There’s the sense of being in the way, worry that people are evaluating the contents of our carts, or reluctance to chat up the cashier. For me, grocery shopping doesn’t typically trigger any anxiety since videographers seldom jump out from behind the seedless grapes. So when I signed up for the food committee I didn’t think anything of it. However, the first time I found myself in the grocery store with the co-op’s five-page shopping list, I realized I would need two carts, which in retrospect made sense for a week’s worth of twice-a-day snacks for fifty children. I wheeled the first cart around the store, loading it to the brim, and then dropped it off at Customer Service while I set out with the second. But when I looked at what remained on the list and realized my new cart would contain nothing but ten gallons of milk, forty bananas, and thirty apples, I felt that old sensation start to rise. As I maneuvered the cart over to the dairy section, I got stuck in my own head. I couldn’t help but imagine what other people would think: Well, she sure has a limited diet, Just buy a cow, lady, or, A little thirsty, are we? One by one, I hefted ten gallons into the cart, then pushed my considerably heavier load over to the produce section and topped it off with forty bananas. I don’t think I’d ever bought forty of anything before. Finally, as I was self-consciously bagging thirty apples, imagining the obnoxious things people might say, a man approached me. “Nice apples,” he intoned. I startled. In a flash, my adrenaline jolted—it was The Reveal. But when I looked up, I saw an old friend grinning back at me. I can guess what my face looked like because his expression quickly changed to alarmed and chastened. “Sorry I scared you,” he said. “No, no, it was totally me,” I said truthfully. “I was in my own world.” Pleasant small talk ensued, and he said nothing about the contents of the cart. I don’t think he even noticed. To be stuck in your own world of possible judgments, or stuck in your own head judging yourself, is not fun. For me, it kept me from being where I actually was—in the produce section of a busy grocery store on a Sunday afternoon—and instead put me in a self-generated world of judgment that wasn’t even real. It kept me from looking around at the good people of the grocery store—young couples debating coffee brands, dads with toddlers, white-haired women sniffing melons—and realizing that not one of them was eyeballing me or my cart.

• From Wild (2012)

  “I’m still trying to figure out what I believe,” I answered, taking the hot mug he held out to me. “I have something else for us, if you’d like, a little something I harvested up in the woods.” He pulled a gnarly root that looked like ginger from his pocket and showed it to me in his palm. “It’s chewable opium.” “Opium?” I asked. “Except it’s way more mellow. It just gives you a relaxed high. You want some?” “Sure,” I said reflexively, and watched as he sliced off a piece and handed it to me, sliced another piece off for himself and put it in his mouth. “You chew it?” I asked, and he nodded. I put it into my mouth and chewed. It was like eating wood. It took a moment for me to realize that maybe it would be best to steer entirely clear of opium, or any root that a strange man gave me, for that matter, regardless of how nice and non-threatening he seemed. I spit it into my hand. “You don’t like it?” he said, laughing and lifting a small trash can so I could toss it in. I sat talking to Clyde in his truck until eleven, when he walked me to the front door of the club. “Good luck up there in the woods,” he said, and we embraced. A moment later, Jonathan appeared and led me to his car, an old Buick Skylark he called Beatrice. “So how was work?” I asked. Sitting beside him at last, I didn’t feel nervous the way I had when I’d been in the bar and he’d been watching me. “Good,” he said. As we drove into the darkness beyond Ashland, he told me about living on the organic farm, which was owned by friends of his. He lived there free in exchange for some work, he explained, glancing over at me, his face softly lit by the glow of the dash. He turned down one road and another until I had absolutely no sense of where I was in relation to Ashland, which for me really meant where I was in relation to Monster. I regretted not having brought it. I hadn’t been so far from my pack since I began the PCT, and it felt strange. Jonathan turned in to a driveway, drove past an unlit house where a dog barked, and followed a rutted dirt road that took us back among rows of corn and flowers until finally the headlights swooped across a large boxy tent that was erected on a wooden platform and he parked.

• From Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (2000)

  And, most important perhaps, you can leave a support group. It is nice to know that this phase will pass. Many people attend for some time, drop out, and return occasionally because of a specific need or interest. ICSA offers annual recovery workshops for former cult members (reFOCUS offers scholarships to these recovery workshops through its Herbert Rosedale Memorial Scholarship Fund). ICSA holds yearly two-day-plus workshops' in Colorado, and similar workshops precede annual ICSA conferences that are held around the country. You can find out about these workshops at ICSA's website at www.culticstudies.org. Conferences can help you combine practical learning and personal healing. Most conferences sponsored by cult information or research organizations offer special sessions and workshops for former cult members. For example, twentyseven women participated in one conference workshop dealing with women's issues involving thirty-two different cult groups. Often there are workshops for people who were born or raised in a cult. Professional HelpBy evaluating your psychological health-that is, your capacity to work, love, relax, enjoy life, and, for those who have religious faith, pray-you can determine if you need professional help. There are many physical, psychological, and emotional issues that require personal attention in the postcult period. Professionals are best to address many of these. As you seek professional guidance, be aware of the religious affiliations (or lack thereof) of any counselors or support organizations you choose. Former cult members often need to be careful about exposing themselves to specific systems of belief or nonbelief. Public AssistanceSome people come out of their groups seriously ill or disabled. Temporary reliance on state or federal public-assistance programs may help them to get back on their feet. State agencies can help people find housing, health care, and employment. If you were legally employed before or during your time in the group, you and your employer probably paid into state and federal taxes, disability, and unemployment. If you dislike the idea of using public assistance, consider those taxes as money deposited for the future. If you had earnings withheld for social security and disability insurance, you are entitled to use that money now if you are disabled. This is not charity; it's survival. As soon as you are well and working, you will be paying taxes again, and contributing to the same programs that assisted you. In that way, you can help others as you were helped. Individual CounselingFormer members seek professional counseling for a variety of reasons, including these: • You find that the emotional difficulties you had prior to your involvement are resurfacing. • You have difficulty functioning fully or enjoying life. You have difficulty working, relaxing, or loving. • You feel overwhelmed by such emotions as depression, anxiety, guilt, shame, fear, and rage. • You continue to lapse into disturbing altered states, or have nightmares, insomnia, intrusive thoughts about the trauma experienced in the group, panic attacks, numbing of emotions, a feeling of deadness inside, or detachment from others.

• From Justine (Alexandria Quartet vol. 1) (1957)

  ‘Then once, in the heart of Cairo, during a traffic jam, in the breathless heat of a midsummer night, a taxi drew up beside ours and something in Justine’s expression drew my gaze in the direction of hers. In that palpitant moist heat, dense from the rising damp of the river and aching with the stink of rotten fruit, jasmine and sweating black bodies, I caught sight of the very ordinary man in the taxi next to us. Apart from the black patch over one eye there was nothing to distinguish him from the thousand other warped and seedy business men of this horrible city. His hair was thinning, his profile sharp, his eye beady: he was wearing a grey summer suit. Justine’s expression of suspense and anguish was so marked however that involuntarily I cried: “What is it?”; and as the traffic block lifted and the cab moved off she replied with a queer flushed light in her eye, an air almost of drunken daring: “The man you have all been hunting for.” But before the words were out of her mouth I had understood and as if in a bad dream stopped our own taxi and leaped out into the road. I saw the red tail light of his taxi turning into Sulieman Pacha, too far away for me even to be able to distinguish its colour or number. To give chase was impossible for the traffic behind us was dense once more. I got back into the taxi trembling and speechless. So this was the man for whose name Freud had hunted with all the great might of his loving detachment. For this innocent middle-aged man Justine had lain suspended, every nerve tense as if in the act of levitation, while the thin steely voice of Magnani had repeated over and over again: “Tell me his name; you must tell me his name”; while from the forgotten prospects where her memory lay confined her voice repeated like an oracle of the machine-age: “I cannot remember. I cannot remember.” ‘It seemed to me clear then that in some perverted way she did not wish to conquer the Check, and certainly all the power of the physicians could not persuade her. This was the bare case without orchestration, and here lay the so-called nymphomania with which these reverend gentlemen assured me that she was afflicted. At times I felt convinced that they were right; at others I doubted. Nevertheless it was tempting to see in her behaviour the excuse that every man held out for her the promise of a release in her passional self, release from this suffocating self-enclosure where sex could only be fed by the fat flames of fantasy.

• From Wild (2012)

  “Are you sure?” I stammered. “I mean … It should definitely be there.” The woman only shook her head unsympathetically. She cared nothing for me. I was a dirty, smelly radical youth of the lower Pacific Northwest. “Next,” she said, signaling to the man standing at the head of the line. I staggered outside, half blind with panic and rage. I was in Ashland, Oregon, and I had only $2.29. I needed to pay for a room at the hostel that night. I needed my food before I hiked on. But more than anything—after sixty days of walking beneath my pack, eating dehydrated foods that tasted like warmed-up cardboard, and being utterly without human contact for sometimes weeklong stretches while hiking up and down mountains in an astonishing range of temperatures and terrains—I needed things to be easy. Just for a few days. Please. I went to a pay phone nearby, took Monster off and set it down, and shut myself into the phone booth. It felt incredibly good to be inside, like I didn’t ever want to leave this tiny transparent room. I looked at the padded envelope. It was from my friend Laura in Minneapolis. I opened the envelope and pulled its contents out: a letter folded around a necklace she’d made for me in honor of my new name. STRAYED it said in blocky silver letters on a ball-link chain. At first glance it looked like it said STARVED because the Y was slightly different from all the other letters—fatter and squatter and cast from a different mold, and my mind scrambled the letters into a familiar word. I put the necklace on and looked at the distorted reflection of my chest in the telephone’s glossy metal face. It hung beneath the one I’d been wearing since Kennedy Meadows—the turquoise-and-silver earring that used to belong to my mother. I picked up the phone and attempted to make a collect call to Lisa to inquire about my box, but there was no answer. I strolled the streets miserably, trying not to want anything. Not lunch, not the muffins and cookies that sat on display in the windows, not the lattes in the paper cups that the tourists held in their spotless hands. I walked to the hostel to see if I could find Stacy. She wasn’t there, the man who worked the desk told me, but she’d be back later—she’d already checked in for that night. “Would you like to check in too?” he asked me, but I only shook my head.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I’m quite broke till pay-day.’Kitty was booked to appear, that night, a little way into the first half of the show. While I helped her with her collar and her neck-tie and her rose, I felt quite steady; but when we walked to the wing to wait for her number to go up, to gaze from the shadows at the unfamiliar theatre and its vast and careless crowd, I felt myself begin to tremble. I looked at Kitty. Her face was white beneath its layer of paint - though whether with fear, or with fierce ambition, I could not tell. With no other motive, I swear, than to comfort her - so mindful was I of that new resolve, to play her sister and nothing more - I took her hand, and pressed it.When the stage-manager finally gave her his nod, however, I had to turn my eyes away. There was no chairman at this hall to bring the crowd to order, and the act Kitty had to follow was a popular one - a comedian, who had been called back upon the stage four times, and who had had to plead with the audience, in the end, to let him make his exit. They had done so grudgingly; they were disappointed and distracted now when the orchestra struck up with the first bars of Kitty’s opening song. When Kitty herself stepped out into the glare of the footlights to wave her hat and call ‘Hallo!’, there was no answering roar from the gallery, only a half-hearted ripple of applause from the boxes and stalls - for the sake, I suppose, of her costume. When I forced my gaze at last into the hall I saw that the audience was restless - that people were on their feet, heading for the bar or the lavatory; that boys were perched upon the gallery rail with their backs to us; that girls were calling to friends three rows away, or gossiping with their neighbours, looking everywhere but at the stage, where Kitty - lovely, clever Kitty - sang and strode and sweated.But slowly, slowly, the mood of the theatre changed - not tremendously, but enough. When she finished her first song a man leaned from a balcony to shout, ‘Now bring Nibs back on!’ - meaning Nibs Fuller, the comedian whom Kitty had replaced. Kitty didn’t blink; while the band played the warm-up to her next number she raised her hat to the man and called, ‘Why, does he owe you money?’ The crowd laughed - and listened more carefully to her next song, and clapped more briskly when she finished it.

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  It’s called spiritual bypassing . The term originated in the field of psychology. Psychologist and professor Dr. Philip Clark defines it as “the avoidance of underlying emotional issues by focusing solely on spiritual beliefs, practices, and experiences.”1 In other words, spiritual bypassing means that instead of paying the price to understand and fix things that are out of alignment in your thoughts and emotions, you try to cover up the issues and move on by “praying about it,” or “just having faith,” or something similar. We do this more than we probably realize. It can be difficult to identify spiritual bypassing, though. After all, we should turn to prayer when we feel overwhelmed. That’s the premise of the “pray about everything, be anxious about nothing” verse. No matter what needs or problems we face, whether little or big, the Bible tells us to pray, have faith, and trust God. Is that spiritual bypassing? No. Well, not in and of itself. Prayer is not the problem. We should always pray. The problem is when we don’t take personal responsibility for what we need to do. The moment we use prayer, faith, Bible, church, tithing, God, heaven, or any other spiritual belief or practice to avoid personal responsibility, we’ve crossed the line into spiritual bypassing. On a practical level, what does spiritual bypassing look like? Usually, it means substituting internal growth or tangible action with a cheap appeal to: Prayer: “Just pray about it.”Faith: “If you just had more faith . . .”Heaven: “This earth is sinful and broken; all will be made right in heaven.”God’s sovereignty: “His ways are higher than ours, so don’t try to understand.”Spiritual disciplines: “If you would give/fast/volunteer, you would be blessed.”Forgiveness: “You have to forgive, forget, and move on.”Unity: “If you disagree or complain, you’re causing division.” Vision: “I know you’re suffering, but you are part of something bigger, so it’s worth it.”Love: “Love covers a multitude of sins; love keeps no record of wrongs.”The difficult thing with spiritual bypassing is that it sounds so, well, spiritual . It’s hard to object when the person doing the bypassing is quoting the Bible or appealing to your generous, compassionate nature. The bulleted list above consists of good things, after all. And most of the phrases in quotes come from the Bible or can be supported biblically. The difference, though, is how they are being used. Are we quoting the Bible and talking about spiritual things in order to serve others and to follow God wholeheartedly? Or are we using them to avoid change, escape accountability, or control people? These are important questions to answer because God is not impressed with fake spirituality. He is not manipulatable, and He doesn’t take kindly to people manipulating other people in His name. He also doesn’t want us to deceive ourselves into thinking we are healthy, happy, and holy just because we checked off our spiritual to-do list this morning.

• From Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (2000)

  In a study by the psychologist Paul Martin and colleagues using the Millon Clinical Multiaxial Inventory (MCMI), the Beck Depression Inventory, the Hopkins Symptom Checklist, and clinical interviews of in clients at a rehabilitation facility, it was noted, not surprisingly, that for mer cult members exhibit considerable distress in the areas of anxiety, depression, and dissociation. 14 The DES and SCID-D have also proven useful in determining the degree and scope of dissociation, with the SCID-D indicating specific dissociative disorders. It is heartening to note that treatment has shown demonstrable effectiveness in reducing postcult distress, as measured by pre- and posttreatment testing. HospitalizationThere have been some studies of the usefulness or necessity of psychiatric hospitalization in the treatment of former cult members. Some patients are selfreferred; families may bring others in; and others are dropped off at hospital emergency rooms when their symptoms become too severe for the cult to handle. As illustrated in Christina's case and other examples in previous chapters, decompensation may occur both during and after involvement in intensive thought-reform environments. Psychiatrist David Halperin writes, "If psychiatric intake workers are not sensitive to cult issues and do not bother to inquire about their patients' possible cultic involvements, they will not realize the extent to which a patient's presenting symptomatology may be related to powerful group pressures and their aftereffects. As a consequence, they will tend to overestimate and misunderstand the psychopathology and inappropriately treat the cult-involved individual. Sometimes such misdiagnosing can result in unnecessarily prolonged inpatient treatment."" Halperin suggested the following considerations when working with current or former cult members who require hospitalization: • Careful assessment of the individual's pre-affiliation status. Cult affiliation may precipitate a brief psychotic reaction. It may also be symptomatic of severe underlying pathology and chronic illness. Even in an otherwise intact individual, the brief psychotic reaction may be surprisingly severe, with the patient manifesting agitated, suspicious, confused, and quasi-manic behavior. However, hospitalization, which places the individual in a structured and protected setting without further contact with members of the cultic group, is usually successful in terminating the brief psychotic reaction. • Treatment of an individual with a problematical pre-affiliation history is often protracted and complex. Mood stabilizers, anxiolytic agents, and neuroleptics may be required. • Follow-up care in halfway houses and other supportive settings, in particular rehabilitation centers for former cultists, may be extremely helpful. In most cases, follow-up care should include exit counseling, psychotherapy, family therapy, and pharmacotherapy.16 Halperin also notes that sometimes it is appropriate to incorporate exit counseling as part of inpatient treatment, with the exit counseling team also, educating hospital staff about the realities ' and potential aftereffects of cult involvement. MedicationThere is a scarcity of data on the pharmacological treatment of former cult members or other victims of trauma.'' Caution must be taken in the decision to prescribe medication to former cult members because it is difficult at times to distinguish between symptoms that are a function of thought-reform systems versus true symptoms of psychiatric illness.