In the process of untangling the mess unintentionally created in childhood, one important aspect I’ve been exploring is my neuroticism. I don’t know how it started exactly, but I do know where I got it from: my mother. I have written about her enough times for people to be aware of the fact that I do have mommy issues, but I’ll try my best not to shift the blame on her as I try to hold myself accountable.
I worry a lot, too much for my own good if I’m being honest, and for a long time I really thought that this was normal. I remember spending the last few days of my childhood summers with little to no sleep, simply because I was too nervous for school. Growing up, I would easily feel distraught if things didn’t go as planned or if there was any form of spontaneity that came up. Each time I’d be faced with a new experience, I find myself thinking of the worst possible outcome and attempt to escape my own head.
the big 5
I realized that this was not normal in my Experimental Psychology class, where I was paired with my best friend Jem, and we administered the Big 5 Personality Test to each other. The Big 5 is a psychological test that measures five factors of personality: openness to experience, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism. I’m not well-versed in the rationale of the factor theory as much as I am in psychoanalysis and humanistic psychology, but here’s a decent picture for you: the five factor theory is more scientifically sound. It’s based on statistics, which probably explains why I can’t articulate the entire theory off the top of my head.1
These five factors were drawn from all personality traits these researchers could possibly think of. Let’s break them down:
Openness to experience refers to the desire and curiosity one has to explore novel ideas, and it is associated with originality.
Conscientiousness is diligence and self-discipline, being organized and careful in the work that you do and the decisions you make.
Agreeableness is about how well you get along with others, how much you try to keep conflict to a minimum, and how kindly you treat people.
Extroversion, obviously, refers to how much you seek relationships with others and the level of confidence you have.
And finally, neuroticism covers all the negative personality traits: insecurity, anxiety, pessimism to name a few.2
According to its creators, the mentally fit individual scores high in all aspects except neuroticism. To no one’s surprise, I scored high in all factors except conscientiousness (I do think of myself as a slut for instant gratification, hence I struggle with self-discipline), and my score in neuroticism was one of the highest.
The anxiety became much more familiar to me in the recent years, and because of it I’ve developed a had habit of googling whatever symptoms that I felt weren’t normal. From heart problems to pregnancy scares to even cancer, you can say that I’m very familiar with what WebMD has to say about these clinical cases. And for a long time I thought that this was a shared experience, because there were memes about this! Some friends of mine have this exact problem, too, (s/o to Abner who shares the hypochondriac brain cell with me) so I didn’t really put much thought into it. It was recently that I realized how my anxiety would leak in other aspects of my life, and that it wasn’t normal: how often I’d worry about my performance at work or in my personal relationships or my finances. Pre-pandemic maybe not a lot of people would relate to this, but because of the circumstances, I guess this tendency of mine resonates with people more (which is upsetting, obviously).
the failed escape
Except medication, I’ve tried pretty much everything to get rid of the anxiety. In 2019 I joined a mindfulness community but have been inconsistent at it (though I think this would work out if I actually put in the effort to show up). I’ve tried breathing exercises, journaling, reframing my thoughts—pretty much everything you could see in an aesthetically pleasing infographic about self-care on your Instagram explore page. Growing up, only writing has stuck with me as it is probably one of the few things that have made complete sense ever since I picked up on it as a child (I am happy to report that I have a few more hobbies now, such as working out, bullet journaling, curating playlists, and expanding my taste in movies).
Truth be told though, even writing—the hobby I love most—doesn’t rid me of the anxiety. It disappears for a while after my worries bleed a 3-page mess, but then it comes back, sometimes much stronger, and there are times where writing doesn’t feel enough and it feels like a chore. I guess that’s the truth about getting better and learning to navigate your feelings in a less cruel way: it is work. And not everyone likes the truth.
Which reminds me of this part in Rick & Morty, specifically this part:
I have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way I’m bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is it’s not an adventure. There’s no way to do it so wrong you might die. It’s just work. And the bottom line is some people are okay going to work, and some people, well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose.
There are things you will never be able to escape from no matter how hard you try or how good you get at being human. It’s discouraging, I know, and I wish that that conspiracy theory about life being a simulation were true. Because if it were, then we would have a properly engineered reward system that validates every good thing we do, occasionally showing our stats3 to make sure that we’re progressing the right way. We would also have a list of quests to guide us and let us know how we can do better. Kind of like The Sims.
In reality, though, as you survive each day, no amount of progress you make won’t spare you from problems in the future or the past creeping up. The little things you do may mean something to a particular quest of yours, but not always to the more urgent one. And you’re never entirely sure of whether what you’re doing is leading to something better or not, because the likelihood of things going south will always be there. I think that the only reason why our chances of fucking up decrease when we try to do good consistently is that we choose to believe that our actions do not deserve such consequence. However, there are no external factors that guarantee your protection from harm. No matter how much good you do, you’re just as in danger as the next person.
Of course this is a simplistic argument, and I’m not taking other factors into account (see: biopsychosocial model of health) when we speak of self-improvement. Anyway, my point is that it’s not supposed to be that hard, getting better. I mean, it is, if we’re talking about levels of motivation, but that’s for another entry. At least in this post, my point is that what took me so long to realize in dealing with my anxiety (and every other negative emotion) is that the goal is not to get rid of it, but rather, if I want to experience any form of peace in my life, I have to learn how to live with it—and this means rewiring my brain myself.
Living with it is a very cognitive-behavioral approach, which is why I take issue with this. The whole idea of cognitive-behavioral therapy is challenging your current belief system (limiting beliefs are what we call the problematic parts) and replacing them with more comforting but still realistic thoughts, hoping that this translates into a positive change in behavior.
I’m not the biggest fan of cognitive-behavioral therapy as it is a very individualistic approach to mental wellness; I genuinely believe that collective healing by abolishing structures that continuously strain our well-being is a much better solution. We can only do so much, though, and our identity is not limited to how we are connected to others. We are individuals, too, and to a certain extent, this can be helpful. I am trying to learn that as an individual I deserve to get better on my own. If I’m able to do that, then I can eventually focus on the collective aspect of this.
today’s takeout
What scares me about living with it is the possibility of never getting better. If my anxiety is already this bad at 23, do I expect it to keep me from functioning properly until the day I die? Do I just accept that there will always be a limit to how well I can do in my goals and personal relationships? This has led me to a downward spiral a bunch of times, but I’m glad I have my therapist now to ground me.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she tells me every time I pour my heart out and verbalize all the thoughts in my head. She has pointed out a few times that most of my worries are just thoughts, and at times, what I think is different from the reality playing out. It’s become a mantra each time I find myself entertaining an anxious thought, telling myself that it doesn’t have to be that way. Sure, it sounds like gaslighting myself, but this affirmation has helped me differentiate worries (negative things that have little to no guarantee of happening) from threats (negative things that I have to be wary of and prepare for).
Living with my anxiety (and all other uncomfortable emotions) is not merely accepting its existence. It’s getting to know why it exists, what it has to say, and why it bothers me. I think that I avoid feeling my feelings because there are things about myself I’m afraid of that I might not be ready to face, but this time I’m trying. And in trying to sit with these emotions, giving them a chance to come out and show me what needs to be addressed, I think I might just be able to see my self-improvement stats.
My dear friend Sab created this comic early into the pandemic that perfectly describes how I’m coping.
journal prompts
Always optional, but this section is to help you reflect on your own experiences better since this is what is done in therapy anyway. Feel free to answer these questions in your notebook or comment them here. I’d love to read your answers only if you’re comfortable sharing!
What do you usually worry about? How often do you worry?
What does anxiety drive you to do? What does it hinder you from doing?
How do you deal with anxiety and other unpleasant emotions?
The only reason I remember this theory is that the five factors spell out the word OCEAN.
Now that I think about it, one flaw of this theory is how they grouped all ‘negative’ personality traits under one category, as if these traits are always harmful to the individual. Then again, these folks used statistics (my Achilles’ heel), so I guess there might be a reason for it. I’m guessing it’s because these traits, while not completely negative, have been more harmful than good.
Imagine if there were a pop-up window for each time you finish a quest or do something wrong to remind you that you’re straying from your quests? I can already see myself having a lot of pop-up windows that say, “Error: You are worrying too much. Stop that.” Or when I complete a task it could go something like, “Good job! You have earned the Emotional IQ shield that protects you from emotionally constipated people.”