Читать книгу The Art of Taking It Easy - Brian King - Страница 11

Now that you understand stress as simply a reaction to a perception of threat, I want to share a bit about an interesting phenomenon we all engage in where the brain creates its own stress. I would even argue that the vast majority of the stress we experience is self-­induced. That is, we feel stress when there is no real external threat to us, only some challenged belief, value, or expectation of ours. In other words, a thought. Yep, most of our stress is imaginary. Those no-good stinking unicorns.

Worry is a thought process that falls into this category and it is just the worst. Worrying is nothing more than internally generated stress—stress we impose on ourselves thanks to some particularly troublesome thoughts. Worrying is a behavior, although a mental one, and we often worry about life stressors, but worry itself can sometimes be the cause of additional stress.

Let me give you an example, again with the traffic. Imagine you get up a little late one morning and hop in the car for your morning commute. On your way to the highway you start thinking about the fact that you woke up later than usual and because of this you might hit additional traffic. You could think to yourself, Oh man, I bet there is going to be traffic. I am so going to get fired. Consider what just happened—you are driving normally and you have just caused yourself to elevate your stress level in anticipation of something that hasn’t even happened and may not happen. You have generated stress unnecessarily thanks to your own thoughts. And another thing, Judy, you really should get your life together.

I often speak out against worry, and I do so for the reason that it is a really bad habit and one that we may not recognize as such. As a form of mental behavior, worrying too much, over a lifetime, can be a major contributor to developing an emotional disorder like anxiety or even depression. It is a behavior that we can change, and doing so is probably in our best interest.

And yet, we all worry. Maybe not all the time, but we all have moments where our negative anticipations consume us and cause us stress. As I mentioned in my introduction, I am a really happy guy and yet I occasionally worry. I mostly worry about my daughter, like how am I going to provide for her future, am I helping her to grow into a happy and healthy woman, and will she be attacked by bears? Definitely the bear thing. Worrying is a normal activity, which is why it probably doesn’t register on anyone’s radar when it is problematic. But there are people who worry way too much, about anything and everything. They have practically turned it into a hobby.

One of my college roommates was like that. He was an extreme worrier. Although I eventually earned my doctorate, I was never a traditional college student. For reasons I no longer remember, I dropped out of high school in my senior year, and that sort of thing generally makes it hard to go straight into college (and most drop-outs . . . well, don’t). Nobody in my family had been to college, and I didn’t exactly hang out with a college-bound group of kids, so I really had no idea what I was doing in the beginning.

I first met my friend James in high school and we actually got our GEDs at the same time. We decided college would be easier if we attempted it together and signed up for a lot of the same classes our first year. We had this one class that met Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I forget the subject but I remember we had an exam every Friday.

James and I were not the best students (go figure, the bad habits that led us to drop out of high school followed us into college), but we were motivated. One of the major differences between us that I noticed was our approach to those weekly exams. Whereas I would turn in my exam as soon as I finished and duck out of class to get an early start to my weekend, James was the kind of student that wrestled over every question, often second-guessing himself and waiting until the very end of the hour to turn the test in. Later on, we would sometimes meet at the bar on the corner near our apartment. I remember one time in particular when he looked a bit anxious. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Man, I’m just really worried that I failed that exam,” he replied.

“Well, then you probably did,” I said. “But worrying about it isn’t going to change anything now, you might as well relax and enjoy your Friday night.”

I thought it was strange, but he couldn’t do that. In fact, all night he kept referencing the class and questions on the exam that he thought he had gotten wrong. He ended up going home early. I woke up the next morning to find that he was already awake and was in the living room with all of his books and notes out, frantically going over them. “Man, you remember that one question? I think I got it wrong.” I swear, if he put in this much effort before the exam, he wouldn’t have needed to spend his weekend worrying.

But he would worry about it, and all weekend long. On Monday we would get our grades and he would either be pleasantly surprised or have his fears confirmed. Either way it went, his worrying all weekend did absolutely nothing to influence the outcome of the exam. He wasted his weekends, when he could have been wasted. Eventually he decided that college wasn’t for him, not because his grades were that bad, but because he couldn’t handle the stress.

And that’s the thing about worrying, it does nothing to prevent bad things from happening. Worrying does not affect the outcome of a situation, it doesn’t make adverse events less likely to occur, it just makes our life less great.

Let me add another step to the advice I gave in the last section. When we start to worry to the point that we start to experience stress, we need to take a moment and ask ourselves, “Can I do anything about this?” If the answer is yes, then do it or make a plan to do it. In fact, if we can do something about a situation and we choose not to for whatever reason, then we are to blame for our own stress. I was once approached by a woman who told me she was really stressed because her best friend had been spreading rumors about her and talking about her behind her back. I said, “Wow . . . you refer to this person as your best friend?” Personally, I wouldn’t even refer to such a person as a friend, let alone give her the best spot. But to each their own. She explained that they had known each other for a long time, so that kind of made sense. I asked how long she had known her friend and she said, “About ten years.” I then asked how long her friend had been behaving like this, and again she said “About ten years.” It was pretty clear to me that this was a problem that could have been solved about ten years ago.

The woman could have broken off the friendship, but what if there isn’t anything we can do about our situation? In that case, I think it is helpful to ask ourselves, “If there is nothing I can do about it, then why am I worrying about it?” It is a rhetorical question really, but by thinking that to ourselves, we reduce the likelihood that we will continue thinking about whatever it is that is causing us stress.

My college roommate was unable to see the futility in worrying about an exam he already turned in.

I only recently became a parent, so worrying about children is new to me. I do occasionally worry about my daughter’s future, as I previously mentioned, but I try to limit this. I am, however, always concerned for her well-being. Concern, at least the way I use the word, is not the same thing as worry. Both imply a form of caring, but worry can be unnecessary and anxiety inducing: I am concerned for my daughter’s life, but I don’t worry that she’ll be mauled by bears.

I remember once using the aforementioned line of questioning with a friend who was feeling a bit stressed about his kids. First, I asked him what he was worried about. He said, “It’s my kids, they are away at college and I’m concerned that they are partying too much instead of studying. I am worried they are going to fail out.”

That’s a pretty serious concern. I asked him why he thought that. “Well, I keep seeing these pictures they post on Facebook, they are always going to parties and drinking.” Let me pause the serious conversation for a minute, because um . . . that is what Facebook is for. You post pictures of yourself partying and having good times with friends. Nobody ever posts a photo of themselves reading a book. You’ll never see a post from your kids at home at the dorm, hair messed up, in their pajamas, with the caption, “Hey, guys, this is me studying for an exam!” Social media is for posting pictures of partying. That, and kittens.

“Yeah, I know, but I still can’t help worrying about them. They are my kids, you gotta worry about your kids,” he said. Okay, I thought, and asked him, “Can you do anything about this? “Well, not really. They live in another city.” Okay, I thought, and asked him, “If you can’t do anything about it, then what is the point of worrying about it?”

“Well, they are my kids, you gotta worry about your kids.”

“Okay, can you do anything about this?”

“No.”

“Okay, if you can’t do anything about it, then what is the point of worrying about it?”

“Well, they are my kids . . . ”

The conversation cycle continued until, finally, he suggested, “You know, I guess on some level I really just like worrying.”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a breakthrough! I almost never catch that level of self-awareness in people, but he was telling the truth. Some of us enjoy worrying. If it isn’t those kids, or the exam, or the potential traffic on our commute, we’ll find something else to worry about. If nothing worry-worthy is going on in our immediate lives, we can turn on the news or worry about the things that show up on our Facebook feed.

I love social media, but it really does provide worry fuel for a lot of people. I suspect those same people would worry plenty without it, but at least I wouldn’t have to scroll through their alarmist posts to see my friend’s vacation pictures. What is interesting to me is that social media is whatever we make it: we control the content we are exposed to.19 And yet, I often hear from people who quit it because of “all the drama.” Which is a shame, because there are so many positive messages being shared on a regular basis. We just have to learn how to filter the nuggets from the dirt.20

Speaking of nuggets, skimmers, this is for you:

 If we can’t do anything to change a situation, what is the point of worrying about it?

Sometimes people ask me when it is appropriate to worry or if all worrying is stressful. I think these questions are really a case of getting hung up on semantic differences. Realistic concern and worry are not the same thing. There is a big difference between “There might be traffic” and “Oh, man, I am totally going to be late because of traffic.” One of them may help you prepare for a situation, the other causes stress. Similarly, there is a difference between understanding that you may encounter bears on your hike through Yosemite National Park and being so worried about bear attacks that you are on edge the entire time, or worse – you don’t even go on the hike. Yosemite is one of the most amazing places on Earth. I couldn’t imagine being so worried about bears that I would miss out on that experience. By the way, if you haven’t been, and you have the means, then definitely go! The views are breathtaking, and chances are you’ll recognize it from the Ansel Adams poster that was hanging in your friend’s dorm room. I try to visit at least once a year.21

I frequently ask people to tell me why they worry, and I hardly ever get the answer I am after. For example, I just shared a conversation with a worrying friend in which I asked him why he worried and he said that he thought his kids were partying too much while away at college. Like most people whom I ask, he was telling me what he worries about, not why he worries. If you are a worrier, why do you worry? Understanding why you repeatedly engage in this behavior could be a great help in overcoming it.

In the interest of full disclosure and as you may have figured out by now, I am not a worrier. So I can’t speak on the impulse to worry from my personal experience; however, it’s pretty clear to me that nobody seems to consciously decide to worry. I doubt anyone ever says to themselves, “Hey, you know I really feel like worrying right now. Let’s see, what should I worry about? I know, I’ll worry about those kids!” In other words, it does not appear to be a behavior initiated by the conscious mind, or the prefrontal cortex. Therefore, it is probably selected unconsciously by the nucleus accumbens in its basic decision-making.

As you now know, decisions made by the accumbens are the result of comparing the relative benefit of whatever options are currently being presented. Because we know the brain chose to worry—it is an observed behavior—that must mean that the action of worrying was associated with a greater potential value than any of its competitors. That also means that worrying apparently has value to the brain. Now, what are the benefits of worrying?

You may recall that the benefit of an action is that it either provides some sort of reward or it provides relief. So the benefits of worry have to fall into one of those two options. We can probably rule out reward, or positive reinforcement. I am sure that nobody derives pleasure from worrying. At least I have never heard anyone say something like “Oh, man, last night I was worrying so good!” or “I can’t wait to get home from work so I can worry some more!” or even “I’ve got a whole bunch of things I’m going to worry about this weekend, it is going to be awesome. You should come over!” No, I have never been invited to a worry party (and I would totally go just for . . . science), so I am pretty sure worry is not a pleasurable activity. And if worry isn’t providing the brain with some reward, then it must provide relief. But relief from what?

That is a hard question for most people to answer, so here is where the doctorate in psychology comes in handy. As it turns out, worry provides relief to the brain for a very uncomfortable condition it sometimes experiences called “inactivity.” The brain is a vast electrical circuit comprised of individual cells called “neurons” making connections to one another. Neurons are specialized cells that conduct electricity, and they are regularly transmitting electrical impulses to each other via their connections. Networks of connected cells stimulating each other can, and do, represent everything in your head, from the definition of the word “twerk,” to a memory of when you first learned how to twerk, the instructions on how to make that booty twerk, and everything else related to twerking or otherwise that you store up there.

Stimulating those neurons also lets the brain know that a particular connection is still relevant to your life. However, under-stimulated connections are probably no longer relevant and if they are under-stimulated long enough, they can be lost. Therefore, an inactive connection is one that may not exist in the future, and an inactive network is at risk as well. Without regular activity, parts of our brain are at risk. You have probably heard the phrase, “Use it or lose it”—well, there is a reason you forgot most of what you learned in college (it was actually your Ansel Adams poster). The brain does not like to be inactive.

So now you can imagine that inactivity is an uncomfortable condition for the brain. You may not experience this condition as uncomfortable, you might just label it as boredom. Usually, the outside world provides the brain with plenty of stimulation, but sometimes it does not and the brain has to stimulate itself. Worry is one way that the brain can generate its own activity. Yes, worry relieves boredom. And I believe this is why most worrying occurs.

Think about it. If you are a worrier, when do you worry? You probably don’t worry when your brain is actively engaged in some task. You probably don’t worry when you are focused on an activity, deep in thought, or being thoroughly entertained. More than likely, you worry when you have time on your hands or when your brain is not otherwise occupied. You worry to relieve boredom, which should be no surprise, as boredom already motivates a lot of behavior that people would prefer to change. People eat when they are bored. People drink when they are bored. Some people smoke to give their brains and hands something to do. Some people pick fights, get angry, or just stir things up. And some people worry. In other words, you worry to give your brain something to do. It probably doesn’t matter if it’s the kids, the economy, or something on the news, if you are a worrier and your brain is in need of some activity, you will find something to worry about.

So now that you (hopefully) understand why you worry, what can you do about it? In the simplest terms, changing a behavior usually involves understanding why you do it and finding a suitable alternative. Because worrying relieves inactivity by giving the brain something to do, if you want to worry less you should find something else for your brain to do. But then what could possibly be a suitable alternative to worrying? How about literally anything else!

When you feel the onset of worrisome thoughts, understand that your brain needs some of that sweet, sweet activity and give it some. Read a book. Take a walk. Do the dishes. Clean the living room. Watch a good TV show. Start a conversation with someone (just don’t talk about the thing you are worried about). Anything, literally anything! To overcome worry you have to redirect your train of thoughts. Change the channel in your brain.

In most cases, a simple distraction can be exactly what we need. Distraction is even a common practice in therapy. Whenever Sarah, a therapist, has a patient who is ruminating so much that they are having a hard time focusing on therapy, she finds some way to redirect their thoughts by changing the subject to something positive. She’ll start talking with them about their grandchildren or their favorite music, and it helps take their mind off their worries for a moment. She does the same with our daughter—whenever Alyssa is upset, Sarah is really good at refocusing her attention to help her calm down.

Redirecting your brain may sound easy to do, and relatively speaking it is, but it requires awareness. The problem many of us have is that once we start worrying, those thoughts consume us and we just keep fueling the fire with more. But, if we have enough awareness to realize that we are heading down that path, we can consciously interrupt the flow by introducing an alternate route. When my mind starts to be dominated by stress, I like to take a drive. I find that driving helps me calm down and gather my thoughts. You may find something else works for you, as long as you are changing the channel.

And skimmers, here you go:

 Learning to keep our brain active can help us avoid excessive worrying.

It is hard to stop worrying. But the good thing is that at least you have options. You have a lot of options. There is practically no limit to what you can do to satisfy your brain’s need for activity as an alternative to worrying. Unfortunately, too often the behavior we desire to change has few, if any, suitable alternatives, like worrying has. In those cases, we just have to find a way to manage life without, and that is super tough. For example, my brain loves when I eat ice cream and loves to dish out cravings for it. Now, let me ask you, what could possibly be a suitable alternative to eating ice cream? I’ll give you a hint, there is no alternative to ice cream! The pleasure my brain receives from my eating ice cream is not matched by my eating any other substance (don’t even try to convince me that Froyo tastes basically the same). When my brain wants ice cream the only thing that will satisfy it is ice cream.22 What am I going to do, eat kale? Even kale-flavored ice cream is gross. If I want to overcome my love of ice cream, I have to learn how to live without it. And that is no easy task, because even lactose intolerance fails to convince my brain that eating ice cream is any less awesome. Worrying may be a tough behavior to overcome, but at least you have plenty of alternatives.

I should also note that not everyone worries when their brain needs something to do. People also have positive responses to boredom as well. Some people exercise. Some people, myself included, daydream or do something creative. When my mind wanders, I sometimes come up with jokes. If Sarah is with me, I’ll test them out on her and if she laughs they might make it into my comedy act. I have been known to spontaneously write poetry or make up song lyrics, not that any of those are ever any good (Sarah can attest to that), but these are some of the activities that give my brain something to do when it’s bored.