My neighbour Kalyani is one of the most efficient people I know. Married to a Navy man, she lives with her daughter Tara and her mother-in-law. Since the husband is mostly away and the mother-in-law is interested only in bridge, Kalyani is the decision-maker in the family. She does a great job too. Her daughter is a happy child; the house and garden look great, and the food on the table is always delicious. Not that Kalyani’s toiling in the kitchen all day—she’s an editor at a publishing firm. And, by all accounts, is a high achiever there too.
So, it came as a huge shock to me when I encountered her at the landing, looking pale and almost scared. When I asked her what was wrong, she burst into tears. “I’ve got an important presentation to deliver tomorrow, and I’m far from ready. I’ve been working on the deck forever, but it’s just not working. Plus, Tara is going to camp tonight, and I haven’t yet bought the things she needs. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t do anything right,” she cried.
I brought her home and made her coffee. “First, tell me what Tara needs. We’ll order it online. Then, let’s look at your presentation and see what it needs,” I said. And that’s exactly what we did. After ordering Tara’s things—which turned out to be basic toiletries—we looked at the deck together. I saw it was all done, complete with music and graphics. When I said so, Kalyani protested: “But it’s not perfect.”
That’s when it hit me. I realised where Kalyani was coming from. I was there once—suffering from high-functioning anxiety.
I remembered myself as a young single mother bringing up two boys, fending off loneliness and worries about the future. I remembered being restless and fidgety; constantly battling tiredness and yet signing up for new assignments.
People saw me as organised and helpful, and I know I looked calm and collected. Inside, though, it was another story. I was a mass of nerves, pulled thin by stress and responsibilities. I hated asking anyone for help.
But I was lucky. I had great friends who recognised what I tried so desperately to hide. They took duties off my shoulders, forced me on holidays, and made me laugh and chill. In short, they rescued me.
Twenty years later, I’m a much calmer person who practises yoga and sleep hygiene. I’m not totally stress-free (who is?) but that’s all right. Scientists say eustress, or moderate stress, gives you an edge and makes you more resilient in the face of challenges.
I shared my experiences with Kalyani. I told her I knew exactly what she was going through and she had to stop hiding her anxiety under a cloud of competence. I told her about my journey from a secretly anxious person to an “almost Zen being”. She laughed at that, and gave me a hug.
I ended by telling her about a coping tool I used to push away troubled thoughts and come back to the present. It’s called 333, and involves identifying three things you see and three sounds you hear and moving three parts of your body. It’s a simple task but it works.
Kalyani has promised to use it. Maybe you can too, anytime you’re wracked by restlessness?
Shampa Dhar-Kamath
Delhi-based writer, editor and communication coach
shampadhar@gmail.com