Breaking the pattern of anxiety

Anxiety can be deeply distressing. When it becomes intense or persistent, life may begin to feel like a matter of survival; managing symptoms, avoiding triggers, and worrying about when the next wave will come.

We generally describe anxiety as something we “have” or “suffer from”. It can feel like an illness that strikes without warning, leaving us powerless. But what if anxiety is not simply something we have, but something we actively participate in through patterns of thinking we have learned over time?

In this article, I explore a perspective inspired by British psychologist Charles Merrett and his book The Origins of Anxiety. This view suggests that anxiety is not a flaw or disorder within us, but a natural human reaction that can become intensified by the way we have learnt to interpret and respond to it. Realising this can open up new possibilities for change.

The system of anxiety

Anxiety is a natural emotional reaction. It is a consequence of having choice, and a natural counterbalance to curiosity. Imagine you are a cat. You have a wide range of skills and abilities: you are good at relaxing, but you also have a natural liking for prowling and chasing. Nature has given the cat a system that supports this behaviour, one that prepares it for action and sharpens its senses while exploring. This is the system of excitement.

But exploring also has its dangers. At times, you are like a “cat on a hot tin roof”: jumpy and quick to react when something unfamiliar happens. As the saying goes, “Curiosity killed the cat”, yet what prepares you for action and keeps you safe when you are on the prowl? Excitement and anxiety. These two systems are deeply connected; they are like two sides of the same coin.

The physical reaction of anxiety serves the vital life-preserving function of preparing us for action when we anticipate a threat. 

Anxiety in everyday speech

The issue, then, is not anxiety per se, which, as we have seen, is a universal human reaction, but the way we have learned to respond to anxiety. More specifically, the way we have learned to think about it.

In everyday language, we often describe anxiety in the following ways:

• “I get anxious. It just seems to happen.”
• “It made me anxious.”
• “I have anxiety.”
• “I suffer from anxiety.”
• “I am just an anxious person.”
• “I get anxious because I had a difficult childhood.”
• “Anxiety runs in my family.”
• “My doctor said I have a chemical imbalance.”

When we feel anxious, it can genuinely seem as though anxiety simply arises in us. In this sense, everyday language captures something of how anxiety feels. However, there are problems with these ways of talking about anxiety. They all suggest, in one way or another, that anxiety is something that happens to us, rather than something we have any influence over.

When anxiety feels entirely outside our control, we are less likely to recognise what we can do to feel less anxious. Anxiety becomes something we must “battle” or “overcome”, an enemy within. We may live in constant anticipation, worrying about when it will strike again.

The way we are conditioned to think about anxiety, therefore, has a profound influence on how we respond to it. The ideas available to us to make sense of anxiety can easily become part of the problem, fanning the flames rather than extinguishing them.

Two passengers on a plane

To illustrate this, let's look at a simple but telling example.

Imagine two people on the same flight. One is enjoying the journey; the other is frightened. We might be tempted to explain this difference by saying that one person enjoys flying while the other “has anxiety”, or that one is relaxed while the other suffers from an anxiety disorder. These are common explanations, but they do not take us very far.

A more useful question is: What is each person thinking as they sit on the plane? The relaxed passenger might be thinking about the upcoming holiday or which film to watch. The frightened passenger, meanwhile, may be imagining a crash, how catastrophic it would be, or closely monitoring engine noises, expecting something to go wrong.

Most adult passengers have at some point contemplated the possibility of a plane crashing. The difference is that the relaxed passenger sets these thoughts aside, while the anxious passenger dwells on them. Moreover, many people who fear flying are not only worried about flying itself, but about becoming anxious:

• “What if I feel anxious?”
• “What if I can’t control myself?”
• “What if I have a panic attack?”

Each passenger, then, is running a different set of thoughts. To use a computer analogy, they are running different programmes.

If we imagine that the programmes were switched, the relaxed passenger would soon feel frightened, and the anxious passenger would feel calmer. It is impossible to feel relaxed while running catastrophic predictions, and focusing on something pleasant can naturally soften anxious feelings.

This example suggests that anxiety is closely connected to the thoughts we are engaging with, rather than being something that simply exists inside us. Anxiety arises together with particular thoughts, often predictions of something unwanted. It is an active process.

Unconscious thought patterns

Most of these thoughts are unconscious. We do not deliberately choose them, nor do we wish to make ourselves anxious. Often, we are simply unaware that we have made a prediction and do not want it to happen.

This is not unusual. Much of human learning involves acquiring habits that later operate automatically. Consider reading: when reading in your native language, the process feels effortless, even though it once required conscious effort. The same is true of driving; with experience, many actions become automatic.

In a similar way, we can learn patterns of thought that later operate unconsciously, even when they are no longer helpful. 

Anxious about being anxious

When people struggle with anxiety, they are often anxious about the anxiety itself. Every day language teaches us that anxiety is something we have, suffer from, inherit, or are chemically predisposed to.

Holding these ideas, an intense episode of anxiety can lead to a cascade of understandable but distressing questions:

• "What is wrong with me?"
• "When will it happen again?"
• "How bad could it get?"
• "What caused this?"
• "What is happening to me?"
• "When will it end?"

These questions are emotionally charged. They magnify anxiety, transform a single episode into an ongoing problem, and shift attention away from what anxiety is meant to signal. Anxiety is a natural response to perceived danger, a cue to reflect on what in our lives feels overwhelming, unsafe, or out of balance.

Breaking the pattern

If thinking of anxiety as something we have makes us feel helpless, then seeing it as something we do opens up the possibility of change. Merrett’s approach rests on three principles, to which I add a fourth.

1. Describing the problem

Everyday language often places the cause of anxiety outside our control. A first step is therefore to notice how we describe our difficulties. Write your thoughts down, and then rewrite them with a description that keeps the problem in perspective and allows you to see a possibility of change.

Example: During a difficult period in my life, I feel nervous about going out. It can feel overwhelming, and I tend to isolate myself, which, over time, leaves me feeling lonely and low.

I might describe this difficulty in different ways. For example: “I am an anxious person who struggles to go out” or  "Sometimes, when I think about going out, especially to unfamiliar places or among strangers, I predict that something bad might happen.”

The second description is more helpful. It does not deny the problem, but it helps normalise it. Most of us experience limits to our confidence when facing unfamiliar situations or new social contexts, even if those limits differ from person to person (for example, a professional actor may be at ease in front of a large audience in a theatre, but anxious in front of a few journalists).

The difficulty is no longer something uniquely “wrong” with me; it becomes a human experience that I can relate to, reflect on, and potentially change. Seen in this way, the question shifts from “What is wrong with me?” to “Would I like to change this, and how might I do so?” 

2. Acceptance

When we are struggling, everyday language encourages us to ask questions such as: “Why do I feel like this?” “What is happening to me?” “Why am I like this?”, or “What caused this?” When we do not recognise our experience as simply anxiety, any answers we come up with are likely to increase our anxiety rather than reduce it. We can easily become more frightened, confused, or desperate. In this sense, the desperation lies not in the anxiety itself, but in the way we are trying to solve the problem.

Instead, it can be helpful to pause and consider a different approach. This is not easy, but it is often more fruitful. Acknowledge that repeatedly asking “why” is usually unhelpful and rarely leads to relief. Acknowledge that you are where you are today. Acknowledge that you arrived here for good reasons, even if you cannot yet see what they are.

Forgive yourself for being among the many people who, at this moment in time, have become caught in an anxious way of thinking. Notice how anxious ways of thinking are common in our culture, and appreciate that although the problem is not your fault, it is maintained by patterns of thinking you learned a long time ago.

3. Patience

When we begin to think about what might help us feel better, perhaps the most important quality we need to cultivate is patience. Desperation and impatience come very easily when we are anxious, but they make things worse.

It can be helpful to remember that every long journey begins with a single step. The distance ahead may feel daunting, but improvement happens by patiently doing small, simple things, one step at a time. 

Here, Merrett suggests a number of self-management practices, and I have selected those I found most useful:

Remember that nothing fundamental about you has changed. You have become caught in a particular pattern of anxious thinking, but this does not define who you are.

Remember that you do not feel anxious all the time. Look back to moments when you felt reasonably OK, perhaps not wonderful, but manageable and notice how feelings naturally come and go.

Talk through your worries with someone you trust, someone with whom you feel heard and understood.

Learn to let thoughts come and go without reacting to them. Try not to mind having anxious thoughts, rather than engaging in a struggle with them.

Begin to notice what helps you feel even slightly less anxious. You may realise that you already have many ways of supporting yourself, even if they do not always work perfectly.

Have confidence in yourself. Now that you can see anxiety as something linked to patterns of thought, the possibility of change exists. However, change takes time. You have got drawn into an anxious frame of mind over a period of time, and it may therefore take time to get out of it.

At any given moment, your general aim should be to reduce the intensity of your thinking. Practices such as meditation or mindfulness can be particularly helpful in this respect.

Allow yourself to feel anxious when it happens, without treating it as a failure or a disaster. Anxiety is natural, and some anxious moments will always be part of life. When possible, try to see these moments as opportunities to learn and understand, rather than defeat.

Work gradually towards your self-improvement goals. Repeat things, allow yourself time to become familiar with situations, and be gentle with yourself as you do so. This is how we learn most things. Over time, the frequency, duration, and intensity of anxious feelings tend to lessen.

4. Listening to what anxiety reveals

This is where therapy can be especially helpful; to reflect on what the anxiety is making apparent. What is really causing anxiety in your life? The point is to explore this question, not in a mechanistic or medical sense, but at an existential level. 

Often, an episode of intense anxiety, such as a panic attack, isn't isolated. It is followed by similar episodes over a period of time when the underlying base-level anxiety is high.

Anxiety often points to deeper imbalances such as pressures, constraints, loneliness, or loss of freedom. Questions worth exploring include:

• What is making me feel on edge?
• How free do I feel in my life?
• Where am I under pressure?
• How supported do I feel?

Listening to anxiety in this way shifts the focus from fighting symptoms to understanding what needs to change.

When to seek support

While you can begin to shift your relationship with anxiety through reflection and self-help strategies, anxiety can sometimes feel overwhelming and persistent. If anxious thoughts are interfering with daily life, relationships, or work, speaking with a qualified therapist can provide a safe space to explore underlying patterns and develop new ways of responding. Professional support can help you see what is hard to grasp on your own and move from battling anxiety to understanding it.