An honest sharing from a therapist about my own anxiety — and what happens when we stop waiting until we are ‘fixed’.
And it’s here. The room has gone quiet and I can feel a dozen pairs of eyes on me. I start welcoming the participants to today’s session. I’m fine. After all the experience, I know what I’m doing… until the “wave” arrives.
About thirty seconds into speaking, I suddenly feel like I can’t get enough air. For the first time, my voice starts to shake. “Oh sh*t!” I think. “Not again! Not noooow …”
I can feel the heat rushing through me. “They must have noticed” … creeps into my mind. “Look at the way that woman just looked at you – and she’s smiling in such a strange way! She must be thinking: What the hell is this woman doing up there?!”
And the adrenaline in my body keeps rising…
MY WAVE
If you’ve ever experienced a panic or anxiety response, you probably know what I’m talking about. Mine is strongly connected to performance and tends to show up precisely when I have to lead a group and feel observed and evaluated.
Most of the time, I only notice it once it’s already there and I suddenly realise I can’t breathe.
The physical reaction is quickly followed by thoughts that only make the whole thing worse:
“I’m supposed to provide these people with a safe space for an hour of ecstatic dance. How are they going to trust me if I’m practically falling apart here? What are they going to think?”
Or even ‘better’: “You’re a therapist! You should have this figured out by now!”
PROTECTION OR WALL?
I used to believe that thorough preparation would prevent these states. So I prepared. For weeks in advance.
A great script. What I was going to say, how I would start, what would come next.
But, oh well. The wave showed up anyway — and that threw me off even more.
After a few attempts, I decided that maybe facilitating groups simply wasn’t for me. That I was just an introvert, full stop, and that I should stop pushing myself to do things that were clearly too demanding for my nervous system.
But then I noticed that, over time, I started to miss it. Obviously, not the anxiety.
But that moment when you see participants gradually relaxing throughout a session. When they stop monitoring themselves so much and suddenly a precious space opens up where everyone is without their masks, simply enjoying the here and now — the movement, the music, and that natural sense of connection that emerges within the group.
And I simply love being the bridge that allows other people to experience something this beautiful and authentic. It fulfils me. It brings me joy.
I realised that by not doing it, I may be protecting myself from fear on the one hand, but at the same time I’m silencing the aliveness and joy in me.
COEXISTING WITH FEAR
And somewhere in this reflection, a sense of curiosity started to emerge: “What happens if I try again, even though the fear will probably still be there?” … now that I know I’m not doing it to prove anything, but because, in the end, I actually really enjoy it and it feels meaningful to me?
So I tried again, along the lines of: feel the fear and do it anyway — not in the sense of overcoming the fear. More like finding out whether I can be in the same room with it.
And…?
The wave came. And so far, it’s come
every
single
time. 🙂
But I’ve noticed that it seems to have an expiration date. That, just as suddenly as it appears, it also disappears. Sometimes it lasts half a minute, sometimes a little less.
So I stopped wrestling with it, pretending it wasn’t there, or trying to prove to myself that I had it under control. Instead, I allow it to move through my body. At the same time, I release my lungs with a deeper exhale. I even invite the group to join the breathing technique with me, if they like. This also shifts their attention away from me more towards their own experience. These are some of the strategies that work for me in that very hot moment.
And paradoxically, once the wave has passed through me, I’m actually totally solid for the rest of the session.
EVEN SO, I STEP FORWARD
I suppose I should finish this article with some kind of point, other than openly revealing how much of a ‘work in progress’ I am. But maybe the point is precisely in questioning that ‘should’.
“I should facilitate perfectly. I shouldn’t be afraid…” (Fill in whatever applies to you.)
The more of this conditioning I put on myself, the more pressure I feel. Somewhere on the horizon, a wave begins to rise.
So I wonder: maybe we don’t have to wait until we are somehow ‘fixed’ before we can live what matters to us. Maybe participating in life means stepping into it, again and again
… even with the fear and imperfections we carry in our little backpack. And, step by step, we learn to treat ourselves with a little more kindness.
And instead of ‘I should’ … we simply allow ourselves to be.
About the Author
Vero is a counsellor with a background in person-centered therapy and body-based approaches. She holds space for inner exploration in both individual and group sessions and on the Enlightenment Intensive retreats. Her work is rooted in a quiet devotion to authenticity, softness, and human connection. Together with Peter Harper, she is a co-founder of the EI Association and co-creator of The Drunken Monk Conscious Living.
