Anxiety Isn't the Problem. It's the Alarm.
Dr. Lisa Stanton shares a guest letter about how facing anxiety led her to a truth she wasn't ready to see
This Mental Health Awareness Month, Circle of Chairs is welcoming a guest letter from Lisa Stanton, PhD, a social psychologist and woman in recovery from alcoholism and disordered eating who shares candidly in her Substack, Things On My Heart and on her Instagram @drlisastanton. You can find her latest book and event updates at www.drlisastanton.com.
The other day, I opened my email and saw yet another message related to my husband’s custody battle. I didn’t even finish reading it before my heart started pounding. My jaw clenched. My breath got shallow. I felt hot, then cold, then overwhelmed.
It wasn’t even the content of the email that did it, it was the history. Seven years of court filings, accusations, therapy notes, supervised visits, withheld time, shifting schedules, and heartbreak.
Seven years of watching my husband fight for a relationship with his son, while the system, and certain people in it, continued to twist and strain what little trust existed.
And even now, after all this time, a single email or a comment taken out of context can send my entire body into alarm.
I’m not the one in the courtroom. I’m not the biological parent. I wasn’t there at the beginning. But I’m here now. I’m the new wife, the one who came into this story a few chapters in and fell in love with a man and his love for his little boy.
When things flare up, I start ruminating. This is going to mess him up forever. He’s going to grow up confused and angry. He’ll become an addict from all the emotional trauma. He’ll think his dad didn’t try hard enough.
I don’t just feel anxious. I feel paralyzed. I feel helpless. I rehearse every possible defense, every what-if. I scan for solutions. I try to prepare for heartbreak before it comes, thinking maybe I can soften the blow. But deep down, I know what I’m doing, I’m trying to think my way out of anxiety.
Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
For a long time, I believed anxiety was the problem. I tried everything to calm it down, prayed harder, journaled more, quoted Scripture, distracted myself with work. Sometimes those things gave me a moment of relief. But the anxiety always came back. It returned like clockwork, especially in high-stakes moments I couldn’t control.
Eventually, I realized that the anxiety wasn’t the fire. It was just the alarm. The fire was somewhere deeper, and the alarm was my soul trying to tell me the truth.
When I stopped trying to silence the anxiety and started asking God to show me what was underneath it, I started to see things I didn’t want to see. I saw resentment. I resented Megan. I resented the parenting referee. I resented the court system. I resented the confusion. I resented how little voice I had in something that impacted my day-to-day life. I resented that no one seemed to notice how deeply my husband was hurting. I resented being powerless to protect a child.
But even more than resentment, I started to see pride. I wanted to be seen as someone who handled everything well, calm, composed, prayerful, mature. I wanted to be the “good” one. The forgiving one. The spiritually evolved one. I didn’t want to admit that I judged people. That I imagined saying things I’d never say out loud. That I wanted someone to acknowledge that I was right. That I hated feeling unseen and misunderstood.
The anxiety stayed as long as I refused to admit the truth. I’ve learned this the hard way: if there is anything buried deep inside of me, unacknowledged anger, judgment, fear, or self-righteousness, anxiety will be the first sign that I’m avoiding it. My soul feels it before I can explain it. And when I try to ignore that disconnect, the anxiety gets louder.
This is how God gets my attention. I used to ask, Why am I so anxious? But now I ask, What am I refusing to see? I have tried to get on board with the point of view that anxiety is random and uncontrollable or even the devil, and by experience, I have learned that, at least for me, it’s not. I wish it was. I wish I could blame it on chance. I wish I could blame it on the devil. But it’s none of those. It only feels random when I’ve buried the truth so deep I can’t even admit it to myself.
Anxiety can appear in relation to so many different areas of life, in my work life, in friendships, in my marriage, in my relationship with my body. If I push down a hard truth, anxiety will eventually surface.
It’s not because I’m weak.
It’s not random.
It’s because God loves me too much to let me live in self-deception.
Anxiety has become the alarm system for my soul. Not something to fear or suppress, but something to listen to. Something to follow deeper. Something that leads me to the kind of honesty that actually heals.
Today, when the anxiety comes, and although it’s rare these days, it still comes. I ask different questions. Instead of “Why me?” I ask: What am I angry about? Who am I judging? What am I refusing to confess? Where have I placed my trust in something other than God?
And when I finally stop and tell the truth, not just out loud, but all the way down in my heart, the fire starts to go out, and the alarm bell is silenced along with it.
And, it’s not because I’ve controlled the outcome, but because I’ve let go of pretending.
The custody battle is still ongoing. The heartbreak hasn’t ended. I still don’t know how this story turns out. But I no longer believe that anxiety is the enemy. I see it as a friend, an alarm bell, that leads me back to God.
I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be above it. I just have to be honest. So now, when anxiety rings like an alarm in my soul, I don’t panic. I pause. I listen. I confess. And I hand the fire over to God, trusting that He will put out what I never could on my own.
, Things On My Heart
Are you or a loved one struggling with anxiety or other mental health challenges? Check out more helpful resources from my friends at Recovery.com here.
Want to share your experience about being a family member or loved one impacted by addiction and recovery? Share here.
Caroline Beidler, MSW, is an author, speaker, and Managing Editor of Recovery.com, where she combines expert guidance with research to help people find the best path to healing and treatment. She is the author of Downstairs Church, You Are Not Your Trauma, When Anxiety Won’t Let Go, and When You Love Someone in Recovery: A Hopeful Guide for Understanding Addiction (coming Spring 2026 with Nelson Books). Drawing from her own recovery journey through addiction, mental health challenges, and trauma, along with training as a mental health provider and addiction recovery expert, Caroline inspires others to believe that healing is possible.
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Caroline, this definition of anxiety has led me to a new understanding of myself. Can’t wait to share it with my therapist and friends. Thank you.
Really good take on Anxiety. I have learned that sometimes this alarm is false.. I am anxious because I don't trust something to simply be what it is. When I take a breath I realize that my anxiety isn't based on something real, it's an invention of my own fear of losing something or of something else I can't always name.