Articles

It was 26 years ago, July 1986, when I was hiking up the side of a mountain near Chateau Lake Louise.  It wasn’t a difficult hike, it was a pretty hike, up to a tea house where my husband and I were going to have lemonade and banana bread (it was on the menu).  As I said it wasn’t a particularly difficult hike, and not super long, but there was one little thing that made this hike challenging….for me.  The climb up was right on the edge of the mountain and it was very narrow.   Climbing up, you would hug the mountain on your right and when you looked to your left, there was a steep drop down to the lake.  Oh, it was beautiful all right…the glaciers in the nearby mountains, the color of the water, the feel of a slight breeze.  But, about half way up, I became terrified.  What if?  I started asking myself all the “what if” questions.  And then I started to panic.

My husband was enjoying himself immensely, reveling in the beauty of the mountains and the fresh mountain air.  He was looking forward to reaching the tea house to stop and take in the grandeur of it all and to have the homemade banana bread and lemonade that we heard was just so delicious.  He was blissed out and I was getting increasingly annoyed with what I thought was his apparent obliviousness to the perils of our hike.  Doesn’t he know that with one small slip of the foot, we could go right over?  Doesn’t he know that all it would take is someone coming up from behind us, accidently knocking us over and voila, we could go right over?  He was taking deep breaths of the fresh air and kept anticipating the damn banana bread!  Then I had a thought – what about when we get to the tea house and we start our descent – we will be walking on the right-hand side of the NARROW path, closest to the edge, with no mountain hugging us.  I felt more vulnerable than ever and all I knew then is that I had to get down the mountain.  Now.  No waiting.  In the spirit of differentiation, I announced to my husband my need to be on level ground and I suggested that he continue on with his hike up to the banana bread.  He had planned on continuing his hike, with or without me.  I wished him a safe journey up and I very carefully and cautiously made my way down.  I was palpably relieved when I was on flat ground.  I made my way to a grassy area where I watched others make their way up the mountain (crazy fools) and I waited for the safe arrival of my husband.  He did, indeed, arrive safe and sound and said the lemonade and banana bread had both lived up to their reputation!!

(Our family since has had many, many wonderful hiking trips to the Rocky Mountains; one of our favorite things to do in the summer.  Hiking up to beautiful wildflower meadows high atop a mountain, taking in an expansive view over the mountains in the gorgeous Kananaskis area of Alberta is breathtaking.) 

In my first article, I wrote about the genesis of my interest in relationships.  Now, I share with you above story, which is the beginning of my interest in anxiety.  It was the first time I had ever experienced a panic attack and the terrifying fear that goes with feeling threatened (even if the threat was imagined).  While much of my therapy practice involves working with couples, another big part of my practice involves working with people with anxiety - Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), panic attacks, social anxiety and other forms of anxiety.  I became fascinated and curious about what had happened to me.  In professional workshops, I have worked with some of the leading experts in the field of anxiety.  I love this work, particularly because I think it is so treatable.  The degree to which we experience anxiety certainly varies from person to person and situation to situation.  As humans we all experience anxiety to some degree.  We can’t get away with it.  It’s our humanness that makes it so. 

Be open.  Stay curious.

Namaste,

Barbara