Five things I do (as a therapist) when anxiety takes over

For most of my life I have avoided or even discounted my anxiety.

When I've tried to explain my anxiety to loved ones, their response has mostly been, "But you don't seem anxious?" or "You seem so put-together."

And that is because I do a great job of masking it, almost using my anxiety as my superpower to stay motivated.

But this motivation is only fuelled by fear. Fear that I will be discovered as a "fraud" or not "good enough".

It wasn't until I became a mum that I really acknowledged it.

With my firstborn daughter, I remember getting baby blues on day three and being in tears over the smallest of things. Once the hormones settled, the baby blues settled too.

But then came the intrusive thoughts.

It started off as a familiar worry that kept me on my toes. Where you feel on edge, waiting for something to go wrong, you start to anticipate the next 10 steps ahead.

I remember feeling so distressed over the smallest things, like her bowel movements, is she crying like that because she has an upset stomach?

What changed things for me was leaning into spirituality and culture, as a proud Yuin Aboriginal woman, alongside my clinical training.

It opened a new way of thinking — bringing old ways of doing things into the present.

Along the way, I've built a toolkit that helps me regulate, reconnect and come back to myself.

Here are the five practices I return to again and again.

I listen to my body before I listen to my thoughts

When my anxiety ramps up, my body always knows first.

It shows up as a tight chest. A clenched jaw. Shallow breathing. Restlessness. Fatigue. That wired-but-exhausted feeling.

Instead of ignoring it and pushing through, I've learnt to see these as messages and not flaws.

So, I slow things down. I breathe deeper. I ground myself. I ask: What does my body need right now? Because calming anxiety starts in my body, not my mind.

I change the way I talk to myself

No one is harder on me than me. Anxiety thrives on this.

Thoughts like: "I should be coping better", "Why am I like this?" or "Other people are coping" are all thoughts that do not motivate me to do better.

Rather, it activates my threat system and keeps me in survival mode.

When I notice I'm being harsh, I consciously soften my language. I speak to myself the way I would to a client or a friend: "This is hard," or "I can't always get things right."

I also gently question my anxious thoughts. Not by pretending everything is fine, but by reality-checking them. It's not about thinking positively but rather learning how to respond to myself with clarity instead of criticism.

I do the opposite of what I might be feeling

I try my best to interrupt the anxiety loop with movement and sensory shifts.

When I am anxious my instinct is to freeze, overthink and scan for something that will go wrong.

But I have learnt to recognise this pattern and will put music on to change the mood.

Go for a walk. Change rooms in my home. Go outside and eat my lunch. Not to distract myself, but as a reminder that I am safe and that no amount of worrying is going to change the outcome.

I practise mindfulness in ways that work for me

This doesn't look like sitting cross-legged on the floor trying to push all my thoughts away. Instead, it looks like getting absorbed in something. Like reading, writing, cooking, gardening or even sitting with someone I trust and having a real conversation.

Like most of us, I sometimes reach for my phone to numb my mind. But scrolling rarely settles my nervous system. It usually just delays the anxiety.

When I choose activities or connection that engage my hands, my senses and my attention, something shifts.

At first, I often feel restless. I can't concentrate. My mind keeps racing. Sometimes I wonder if it's even working. But with time and repetition, the mental noise softens.

It's not about feeling good but more about calming my nervous system and feeling grounded again.

I go back to nature and back to Country

When I feel disconnected from myself, I reconnect with Country and nature.

I might go for a walk along the beach, put my bare feet on the grass, consciously take deep breaths outside and notice my surroundings.

It reminds me that I am part of something bigger and that I don't have to carry everything alone.

It brings perspective and that perspective calms my anxiety.

A final thought

There's another truth I've had to face. Sometimes it feels safer and easier to stay in my anxiety loop.

It keeps me alert. It makes me feel prepared. It gives me the illusion of control. And when it's been part of my life for a long time, it becomes familiar. Predictable. Even reassuring in its own way.

But over time, the cost becomes clear.

When I'm stuck in anxiety, my body carries it first. I become irritable and snappy at the people closest to me. I replay conversations repeatedly in my mind. I over-analyse everything I've said and done.

I forget to eat because I'm so caught up in my thoughts and staying busy. Sometimes food makes me feel sick. Other times, I push through until I'm emotionally and physically exhausted.

Eventually, I burn out. And it can take days or sometimes weeks to feel like myself again.

Anxiety still shows up in my life. Being a therapist has given me the tools, language and self-trust to meet it differently.

I no longer see anxiety as a personal failure. I see it as a signal — to reconnect with my body, my values, my culture and my capacity to care for myself.

And each time I listen to that signal, I strengthen my relationship with myself, and my ability to meet life with more calm, clarity, and compassion.

Carlie Schofield is a proud Yuin woman living on Dharawal country in Wollongong. She is also a mum and therapist.