Anxiety Isn’t All Bad: The Intersection of Anxiety & Awareness

Anxiety gets a bad reputation. Understandably so.

It can be unpleasant, disruptive, irrational. More often than not anxiety causes us a significant amount of emotional distress. Especially if it becomes excessive and interferes with our relationships, our work, the ability to enjoy our lives.

So naturally, we tend to approach anxiety as something we need to get rid of.

We want to reduce it. Control it. Fix it. Fight it.

But anxiety isn’t all bad.

Sometimes it provides perspective.

Anxiety and Awareness

I commonly define anxiety as the awareness of a perceived threat. Something might happen. Something might go wrong. Something may require our attention. It’s a warning

Sometimes that threat might be irrational. Sometimes it’s unnecessarily amplified. Our brains can certainly convince us that something is dangerous when it isn’t, or take a relatively small concern and turn it into something much bigger.

But anxiety also overlaps with awareness.

It can be a mental notification to pay attention.

Anxiety can encourage us to think ahead, consider potential consequences, prepare ourselves for what might happen or recognize that something just doesn’t feel right. Sometimes a little anxiety goes a long way in recognizing our mental health.

Some of the most anxious people can also be incredibly self-aware. People with social anxiety are often extremely considerate of others. Anxious folks are commonly aware of themselves, aware of other people and aware of how their actions affect those around them.

That doesn’t mean anxiety and awareness are the exact same thing, or that being more anxious automatically makes someone more self-aware. But they certainly share a lot of overlap.

Sometimes the same brain that worries too much is also a brain that notices a lot.

Anxiety Means We Care

Beyond being aware of potential stressors anxiety can also highlight that we care about those stressors. We are aware of consequences or concerns and prefer to reduce them swiftly. Certainly this can be hyper-awareness with potential averse affects. But there’s a balance.

We worry about our kids because we care what happens to them. We worry about our relationships because those relationships are the most meaningful to us. We worry about our work because we want to be successful at it. We worry about how we came across because we care about how our behavior affects other people.

Sometimes we’re anxious because we give a shit. Again not a bad thing.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the anxiety is always warranted. Caring about someone can lead us to worry about things that are incredibly unlikely to happen. Caring about our work can lead us to catastrophize relatively insignificant mistakes. Caring about how other people feel can turn into excessive people pleasing or questioning everything we say.

But underneath some of that anxiety is something valuable.

We care.

And having something to care about also means having something we could potentially worry about.

Uncomfortable Doesn’t Always Mean Useless

None of this means anxiety is always helpful. Or desirable. It’s often a nuisance.

But uncomfortable doesn’t always mean useless.

This distinction matters because our natural response to uncomfortable emotions is often to try to fight them or fix them. We feel anxious and immediately start trying to figure out how to stop feeling anxious.

And sometimes that fight can create even more distress.

Now we aren’t just anxious about whatever initially made us anxious. We’re frustrated that we’re anxious. Worried that our anxiety is getting worse. Disappointed that we’re feeling this way again.

We become anxious about being anxious.

Maybe we don’t always have to fight it. But instead accept and allow.

Acceptance doesn’t mean enjoying anxiety, surrendering to it or assuming everything it tells us is true. Sometimes acceptance simply means let the temporary feeling exist, no matter how undesirable or unpleasant. Maybe actually sitting with a feeling long enough allows us to discover something about it.

What am I worried about?

What am I noticing?

What do I care about here?

Why is this so important to me?

Is this anxiety unnecessarily amplified, or is there actually something worth paying attention to?

Sometimes the answer may be that our anxiety is completely irrational and there isn’t much useful information to take from it.

But sometimes there is.

Reconsidering Our Relationship With Anxiety

Recognizing that anxiety may have some value—whether through awareness, preparation, perspective or simply because we care—can change our relationship with it.

Instead of automatically treating anxiety as an inconvenient nuisance that needs to disappear, maybe we can become a little more curious about why it showed up in the first place.

We don’t have to like it.

We don’t have to believe everything it tells us.

And we certainly don’t have to let it make our decisions for us.

But we can accept and allow it as part of our human experience.

Because anxiety isn’t all bad. Let yourself have a moment.

Sometimes anxiety just means we are human.

My Top 3 Irrational Beliefs

The real B.S. I used to tell myself—and believed for longer than I care to admit.

As a cognitive behavioral psychotherapist, I spend a lot of time helping people identify irrational beliefs.

Very often the stories we tell ourselves and the assumptions we make are flawed or self limiting. We reach conclusions and fill in gaps without much evidence.

We subjectively create rules for ourselves that, at some point, we stop questioning.

Unfortunately for me, being a psychotherapist does not make me immune to any of this.

I have my own irrational beliefs. Some which I’ve stubbornly held onto for years. And the tricky thing about an irrational belief is that when you believe it, it usually doesn’t sound irrational.

It sounds completely reasonable to us at the time.

So in an effort at transparency and vulnerability, here are three of mine.

Irrational Belief #1: “I’m a psychotherapist. I shouldn’t be in great physical shape.”

For a long time, I had this strange belief about being physically fit. I told myself I didn’t need to be in great shape because I was a psychotherapist. Part of that was probably just a convenient excuse to do bare minimums.

But there was something else underneath it.

I thought being too physically fit might actually make me less relatable. Maybe people would look at me and wonder what I was trying to prove. Maybe they’d think I was hiding something.

Maybe a client struggling with their own health, motivation, confidence, or body image would look at me and think:

He doesn’t get it.

So somehow I turned not taking care of myself into something that felt almost professionally responsible.

That was my own B.S.

The reframe was much simpler:

I can care about my physical health and appearance because I care about me.

It doesn’t have to have anything to do with other people:

A) I can exercise because I like feeling strong.

B.). I can care about how I look because it makes me feel more confident.

C.) By challenging myself physically it reminds me I can do difficult things.

And none of those things make me less capable of understanding someone else’s struggle. If anything, what actually happens is the exact opposite of what I feared. I’m more confident and speak with more conviction in my approach. Theres more heart. I genuinely feel better.

My behavior is more congruent with a lot of the things I encourage in therapy.

And I think my clients benefit from that.

Irrational Belief #2: “If my clients find out I’m divorced, they’ll see it as negative.”

For years, I was extremely cautious about self-disclosure.

I’m a therapist. The session isn’t about me. I need to have strong boundaries. And these are good reasons to have boundaries around what and how much we share with clients. But somewhere along the way, healthy boundaries turned into boxed in walls. Based on fear or my own anxiety.

I worried that if clients knew too much about me, eventually something could be used against me.

Divorce was a big one.

He got divorced.

His marriage failed.

What does he know about successful relationships?

So I kept parts of myself hidden for far too long. Not necessarily because keeping them private made me a better therapist, but because keeping them private made me feel safer.

Eventually, I had to dispute that self serving by self limiting comfort zone.

I can have appropriate boundaries without being afraid of being known.

I can be proud of choosing divorce even if someone else sees it as failure.

I survived something difficult.

I made a decision that was healthier for me and gave me more opportunity to be the father I wanted to be.

And none of that disqualifies me from helping someone else navigate their relationships.

What actually happened?

I became more comfortable acknowledging my failures.

I became more intentional with self-disclosure instead of simply being afraid of it. (Also, no one used my divorce against me. It actually is more of a gateway into understanding people)

More importantly, I stopped believing that being a good therapist required presenting some carefully protected version of myself.

I can have boundaries.

I can keep parts of my life private.

But I don’t have to hide myself out of fear.

Irrational Belief #3: “Posting on social media to get clients is for therapists who need clients.”

This one is probably the most humbling to admit because I didn’t just avoid social media.

I judged other therapists for doing it.

I thought it was cringey.

There was this part of me that believed:

Just be good at your craft.

If you’re a good therapist, people will find you.

You shouldn’t have to shamelessly promote yourself.

And if you’re constantly posting online trying to get clients, maybe that says something about your ability as a therapist.

Then eventually I had to confront something uncomfortable.

I wasn’t avoiding social media because I had some deeply held professional principle.

I was boxing myself in because I cared too much about other people’s opinions.

What if another therapist thinks I’m cringey?

What if someone thinks I’m desperate for clients?

What if people I know see one of my videos and make fun of me?

I was allowing hypothetical opinions from hypothetical people to dictate what I was willing to try.

That isn’t freedom. It’s confinement.

The reframe became:

I don’t need to do this to still do it and enjoy it.

In fact, maybe it’s better to start doing something before you need it.

And what actually happened?

It’s fun.

I enjoy writing.

I enjoy making videos.

I enjoy trying to communicate psychological ideas in ways that people might actually want to read or watch.

I’ve realized that actively creating on social media feels a lot better to me than lurking as a passive recipient of overstimulation.

I’ve connected with people I otherwise wouldn’t have.

I’ve created more.

I’ve written more.

And yeah, I may have even gained a client or two.

They Were All the Same Irrational Belief

At first glance, these are three completely different beliefs.

One is about physical fitness.

One is about divorce.

One is about social media.

But when I started looking at them together, I realized they were really just different versions of the same irrational belief:

Other people’s hypothetical opinions should influence how I live my actual life.

That one had a lot more control over me than I realized.

And disputing it doesn’t mean I’ve convinced myself that nobody will judge me.

That’s just another irrational belief.

Someone might think I care too much about how I look.

Someone might think a divorced therapist has no business talking about relationships.

Someone might watch one of my videos and think I’m cringey.

Someone might read this entire blog post and think the same thing.

That’s possible.

The healthier belief isn’t:

Nobody will judge me.

It’s:

I can withstand it if and when they do.

I don’t have to organize my life around preventing negatives. I can adapt and overcome them.

Accountability as a Path to Growth

Human psychology exists for the purpose of survival. Much of what we do—consciously or unconsciously—stems from the instinct to protect ourselves. This can often show up in unpleasant ways such as selfishness, defensiveness, or even narcissism. This is because we cling to our sense of self, avoid shame, and fight to maintain control. When someone holds us accountable, or offers constructive feedback, it feels like a direct threat. This feedback threatens our fragile survival system.

But what if feedback isn’t a threat at all? What if it’s the very thing that helps us move closer to who we want to be?

Reframing Criticism

Most of us have been conditioned to see accountability as punitive – a consequence for getting “caught” doing something wrong. That mindset might work comfortably when it’s holding others accountable, but when the focus shifts to us, it triggers defensiveness, denial, or blame-shifting.

At its core, though, constructive feedback can be a mirror. It reflects how our actions affect others, reveals our blind spots, and increases self-awareness. Instead of viewing criticism as an attack, we can see accountability as an invitation- an opportunity to self-actualize. When we move from fear to receptiveness, feedback stops feeling like a strike against our worth and becomes a compass guiding us in a better direction.

From “Fuck You” to “Thank You”

Imagine a culture where feedback isn’t met with hostility but with gratitude. Instead of a reflexive “fuck you” when we’re challenged, we respond with “thank you.”

Thank you for helping me see what I couldn’t.

Thank you for trusting me enough to call me to corrective action.

Thank you for letting me know where you stand so I can properly adapt.

That small shift can have profound effects. It builds trust in relationships, strengthens communities, and creates workplaces and families where honesty isn’t feared but welcomed. Accountability stops being a weapon and becomes a gift when we reframe it.

Choosing Growth Over Defense

This isn’t easy. Our instinct to protect ourselves won’t disappear overnight. But each time we catch ourselves getting defensive, we have a choice: double down on pride, or lean into growth. The latter requires humility, vulnerability, and courage. Yet it also leads to freedom—the freedom that comes from knowing we don’t have to be perfect, only willing to learn.

Unconditional self acceptance is the foundation of this work. Only when we accept ourselves fully can we acknowledge our mistakes and embrace feedback without shame.

If we, collectively, begin to approach accountability this way, we will change not just our individual lives but the culture we live in. A culture less obsessed with defending the ego and more committed to becoming better, together.

So the next time someone calls you out—or calls you in—pause. Breathe. And maybe, just maybe, try saying “thank you.” This week, let’s choose one phrase as our accountability anchor. Use something like “Thank you, I’ll have to think about that.” Carry it with you. Practice using it the next time feedback comes your way.