Welcome to homeroom, the place where we get to talk about events both in the world and in our lives—just like we would back in homeroom (obviously). The audio portion of homeroom is only available to paid subscribers, but I try to make a substantial portion—and definitely the informational sections—of my paid posts freely available to all. If you’d like to gain access to my inner sanctum, consider becoming a paid subscriber.
You get raw video updates and voice memos, nascent essay ideas, details about my life frameworks and processes (including, yes, about one of my greatest fears—money), and the knowledge that you’re helping ensure that my informational and educational content on all platforms remains free for all. Please know, though, that regardless of subscription level, I am so grateful to have you here. Thank you so much for spending some of your precious time with me.
I recently had an anxiety attack. It was over something really small, something I said and then something that someone else said in a group chat—I know how silly it sounds, saying it—but it sent me into a spiral nonetheless.
I recorded this to talk through this particular episode and try to use some cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) tools to walk myself through the panic.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it—CBT is a bitch to get through. Reading the workbook* (affiliate link) takes effort. Doing the exercises takes effort. A particular CBT tool I’m doing right involves meditating on the event that makes you anxious or panic—for 30 whole minutes. Is your fear getting fired? Now you have to think about it for 30 minutes. Like, really think about it in specific and concrete terms—packing up your desk, getting home with the knowledge that there is nowhere to go the next day, having to job-hunt and failing, moving. Is your fear dying or someone in your life dying? Think about it for 30 minutes. What the grief looks like, what regrets you will have, why you even care.
It’s not fun, in the same way that weight training and cardio aren’t fun for me—there are always going to be some physical or mental fitness exercises that are painful, we hate doing, but are nonetheless good for us. I’m trying to take mental health exercising as seriously as I take physical exercise, but I admit that there’s a huge part of me that is deeply skeptical about doing so. It’s the same part of me that believes the traditional Chinese lessons about mind over matter, mental health isn’t real, just grit your teeth and bear it. It’s the part of me that hates crying in front of others and judges myself every time I cry (even though I am an incredibly teary person—I feel like I get teary-sounding multiple times during these more intimate podcast episodes!!).
