Even before that, I had what my dad, a psychologist and person keen to poke fun at me, called “Woody Allen–type neurotic tendencies.” When I was seven, I needed my stuffed animals lined up just so. I missed 42 days of school one year, sure I had strep throat, then pneumonia, then cancer. My chest was always a little bit tighter than those of my friends; I always had more “what ifs” and “whys” floating around my overactive mind. It came to a head when I was living in London, and my general anxiety turned into agoraphobia. I had panic attacks whenever I left the house, and, at one point, decided I’d be OK if I spent the rest of my life in my room, in bed. I had my laptop, I reasoned. I had books. I’d be just fine. My time in England laid the foundation for the wellness practices that anchor my hours to this day, but I’ve only recently begun to understand the why of it all. The answer lies in a single word: inflammation. Vincent Pedre, M.D., explains, “Inflammation causes oxidative stress (a form of biochemical stress), which leads to distress signals in the brain that can lead to either depression or anxiety1—or both. On the flip side, we know that the brain will release cytokines (the same chemical messengers your immune system uses to communicate an alert) in response to mental stress. The cytokines regulate really important brain functions, including neurotransmitter metabolism as well as the connection and communication between nerve cells.” In the past year or so, I’ve largely focused on calming my inflammation as a way to calm my anxiety, and the shift has helped make my approach feel far more concrete. “The best way to end this vicious cycle is to incorporate an anti-inflammatory diet, while creating work/life/stress balance in your life through yoga, meditation, hobbies, dancing, laughing, and any activity that you can enjoy fully while forgetting about your worries,” Pedre explains. For me, that’s meant eating as many anti-inflammatory foods as possible (for a full run-down on what that looks like, check out this post). I meditate, without fail, for 20 minutes every single day, as meditation has been shown in a meta-review of studies2 to have a profound effect on dampening inflammation. A post shared by Liz Moody (@lizmoody) on Aug 28, 2018 at 7:57pm PDT Speaking of treating myself a little nicer—I’ve started getting semi-regular massages. Massages have been found in numerous studies to decrease inflammation3 and reduce anxiety4. I like to do in-home massages because, for me, all of the effects of a massage are diminished when I re-emerge onto New York’s cacophonous streets, dodging bikers and pressing up against strangers on a crowded subway. There are tons of apps now that let you order same-day, reasonably priced massages to your home—I’ve been using Zeel, and I’ve been so impressed with the quality of the therapists and the ease of use—plus, being able to go straight from the massage table to bed really helps the effects linger. It’s definitely one of the more expensive types of therapies I’ve practiced, but, when I get massages regularly (versus just a special-occasion splurge), I feel a noticeable difference in my baseline anxiety levels. My muscles are also looser, which helps mitigate the cycle of misattribution that can come from physical symptoms of anxiety (meaning: You feel things that often result from anxiety, like tight muscles or nausea, and your subconscious decides you must be anxious, making you feel anxious and thus tighten your muscles or become nauseous, and the cycle continues…) I also foam roll using the Lauren Roxburgh online classes. To Pedre’s point, an oft-overlooked element of treating inflammation and, particularly, its anxiety counterpart, is to enjoy life. I’ve fallen into patterns where I’m far too focused on my anti-inflammatory diet; I’ll skip social plans because I didn’t have time to meditate that day. While this can be a problem in wellness generally—wellness is, after all, a tool to have a happier life, not an end result in itself—for us anxious folk, it’s more crucial to remember that balance. Anxiety is a disease of trying to control that which we really just can’t, and the most important part of my anxiety- and inflammation-soothing practice is giving myself permission to mess it all up: to eat the chocolate, to skip the workout. When my brain protests—“what if, what if, what if”—I change the story. “So what?” I say back. “So what if the worst thing happens? Bring it on. I can handle it.”
