I have anxiety. I was only recently finally diagnosed by a medical professional as having Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Having known it myself for a while, it was really freeing to finally have a diagnosis and validation that I wasn’t just making it up. But then there was the part that came after that, the therapy and medications and trying to figure out how to deal with the damn thing. At the root of a lot of my work comes the question: Why Am I So Anxious?
There are rare times when I can pinpoint it, where I can recognize the source, eliminate it, work on it, reflect, go on a walk, etc, etc. Those are, like I said, rare. More often is this underlying sensation, a constant companion of sorts, a tightness in the chest or in the worst cases, a hand clenched around my throat. I’ve developed ways to work through the feeling, through breathing, thought exercises, etc. But still. The question remains: Why Am I So Anxious?
In a 2014 essay titled We Are All Very Anxious, the author explains that each phase of capitalism has its own dominant reactive affect, which is a public secret. Essentially, each phase of capitalism has a particular “affect” that holds it together. In the postwar era, the dominant affect was misery, fueled by poor working class conditions. The exposure of this misery (through strikes, protests, mutual aid, and ultimately, legislation) exposed this public secret. When misery no longer worked as a control strategy, the author argues that the dominant affect became boredom. “Mid-century capitalism gave everything needed for survival, but no opportunities for life; it was a system based on force-feeding survival to saturation point.” The 1960s saw a response to this boredom.
The author concludes that the contemporary dominant reactive affect is anxiety. We are all anxious, in fact, because of the societal conditions we are living under. This was a huge realization for me; my anxiety is not simply an individual flaw, it is a condition of the world I live in. A world that feels coated in doom lately.
This paragraph in particular stands out to me:
“The situation feels hopeless and inescapable, but it isn’t. It feels this way because of effects of precarity – constant over-stress, the contraction of time into an eternal present, the vulnerability of each separated (or systemically mediated) individual, the system’s dominance of all aspects of social space. Structurally, the system is vulnerable. The reliance on anxiety is a desperate measure, used in the absence of stronger forms of conformity. The system’s attempt to keep running by keeping people feeling powerless leaves it open to sudden ruptures, outbreaks of revolt. So how do we get to the point where we stop feeling powerless?”
What’s the solution? Here’s some the author laid out, verbatim:
Producing new grounded theory relating to experience. We need to reconnect with our experiences now – rather than theories from past phases. The idea here is that our own perceptions of our situation are blocked or cramped by dominant assumptions, and need to be made explicit. The focus should be on those experiences which relate to the public secret. These experiences need to be recounted and pooled — firstly within groups, and then publicly.
Recognising the reality, and the systemic nature, of our experiences. The validation of our experiences’ reality of experiences is an important part of this. We need to affirm that our pain is really pain, that what we see and feel is real, and that our problems are not only personal. Sometimes this entails bringing up experiences we have discounted or repressed. Sometimes it entails challenging the personalisation of problems.
Transformation of emotions. People are paralysed by unnameable emotions, and a general sense of feeling like shit. These emotions need to be transformed into a sense of injustice, a type of anger which is less resentful and more focused, a move towards self-expression, and a reactivation of resistance.
Creating or expressing voice. The culture of silence surrounding the public secret needs to be overthrown. Existing assumptions need to be denaturalised and challenged, and cops in the head expelled. The exercise of voice moves the reference of truth and reality from the system to the speaker, contributing to the reversal of perspective – seeing the world through one’s own perspective and desires, rather than the system’s. The weaving together of different experiences and stories is an important way of reclaiming voice. The process is an articulation as well as an expression.
Constructing a disalienated space. Social separation is reduced by the existence of such a space. The space provides critical distance on one’s life, and a kind of emotional safety net to attempt transformations, dissolving fears. This should not simply be a self-help measure, used to sustain existing activities, but instead, a space for reconstructing a radical perspective.
Analysing and theorising structural sources based on similarities in experience. The point is not simply to recount experiences but to transform and restructure them through their theorisation. Participants change the dominant meaning of their experience by mapping it with different assumptions. This is often done by finding patterns in experiences which are related to liberatory theory, and seeing personal problems and small injustices as symptoms of wider structural problems. It leads to a new perspective, a vocabulary of motives; an anti-anti-political horizon.
Looking at my anxiety through a Marxist lens was helpful for me; it helped connect my beliefs with my emotions. For me, the temporary solution is to practice my meditations, to go to the park as often as I can, to confide in friends and lovers, and to continue fighting for what I believe in. But one thing is for sure: we are not alone, we are strongest together, and we WILL overcome.