With the ongoing economic instability and the unsettling experience of navigating a pandemic, many of us have turned to online therapy more than ever. I’ve been discussing my own anxiety, which has reached an overwhelming level—definitely above a 10. Before all this chaos, my anxiety was already a challenge, but the fear of job loss and health risks has only intensified it. Recently, my counselor said something that caught me off guard: “You’re quite the comedian,” he remarked.
I nodded in agreement.
“Yet, a lot of your humor seems to target yourself. Have you considered poking fun at your anxiety instead?”
Initially, this idea threw me for a loop. It felt like making light of my anxiety implied there was something inherently wrong with me. I’m usually adept at self-deprecation, but when someone else brings it up, it feels like it validates my insecurities, amplifying my depression and anxiety. So, as he urged me to laugh at my anxiety, I anticipated another sleepless night filled with racing thoughts.
However, my counselor must have sensed my hesitation, as he elaborated on his suggestion. He pointed out that my anxiety often spikes at night, and I should try to humorously confront the thoughts that keep me awake. I worry endlessly about sleep; the fear of not resting only feeds my anxiety, creating a vicious cycle. (That’s how anxiety operates—imagine a snowball rolling downhill, but instead of being fluffy and fun, it’s just filled with dread.)
He reassured me that missing a few hours of sleep wouldn’t spell disaster. I know that on some level, but during an anxiety attack, rational thought often escapes me. Anyone who experiences anxiety can relate to that struggle. Yet, when I look at the situation from a distance, it does seem a bit absurd. My internal dialogue often sounds like a character in a Mel Brooks film, nervously checking the clock as if it’s about to bite me.
For the past few weeks, I’ve taken my counselor’s advice to heart. I’ve started to respond to my anxious thoughts with a silly “whoooooo, scary…” voice, and it’s surprisingly effective. The more I do it, the more I think of a Boggart. If you’re unfamiliar, a Boggart from the Harry Potter universe is a creature that morphs into your greatest fear. So, what’s the trick to defeating a Boggart? The Riddikulus charm turns it into something comical, like dressing a terrifying spider in clown makeup, effectively robbing it of its power.
In many ways, this technique of laughing at my anxiety feels like wielding my own Riddikulus charm. It’s as though I’ve brought a menacing monster into my space and made fun of its trivial features. Recently, I’ve been chuckling myself to sleep instead of panicking, which is a significant improvement. So, I plan to continue this practice. If you think it might work for you, it could be worth a shot—after all, laughter is often said to be the best medicine, even for anxiety.
For more insights, check out this related post here. And for those on a fertility journey, Make a Mom offers valuable information. Additionally, ACOG is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
In light of rising anxiety levels, one person shares how humor, particularly making fun of their own anxious thoughts, has provided relief. By treating anxiety like a comical monster, they’ve found a way to cope better and even laugh their way to sleep. This approach has transformed their nightly battles into a more manageable experience.