Anxiety: The Ghost You Can't Outrun

My name is John Reardon, and I can say this honestly… I've dealt with anxiety. Or more accurately, I still do.

It's not something you neatly overcome and move on from. It lingers, it shifts, it shows up when you least expect it. And yeah… it sucks. It's not easy, and anyone who tells you otherwise probably hasn't really sat in it. In fact, it can be quite hard to describe how consuming it is to anyone who hasn't felt it the same way you have.

Anxiety is one of those things you don't always recognise straight away. You don't wake up one day and think, "This is anxiety." You just feel off. A bit on edge. A bit wired. And then, before you know it, you're right in the middle of it. For some, it can build into panic (and that's when it really peaks), but more often, it's this steady, underlying tension that doesn't quite switch off.

What's important to understand is that anxiety isn't always tied to one big moment. It's not even just a reaction to a single event. It can show up in the quiet build-up of life… the constant overthinking, the restless nights, the sense that something isn't quite right even when nothing obvious has happened. It builds, frustratingly, over time and behind the scenes. Physiologically, your nervous system stays switched on, constantly scanning, anticipating, looking for what might go wrong. Over time, that takes a toll.

Physically, you end up exhausted.

And whilst I don't want to give anxiety too much credence, when you step back and look at it properly… it makes sense. The world can be tough. Unpredictable. At times, genuinely heavy. You're only human. Of course, your system reacts to that.

So, for those experiencing anxiety and not having much luck shifting it… the question becomes: what actually helps?

Medication can help. For some people, it's an important part of the process. Others find value in things like breathing, grounding, or simply slowing things down. There's no single path here.

And look, if you're a bloke reading this, I'll be straight with you. Most men don't take this seriously. We push through, we drink, we stay busy, we don't talk about it. And for a while, that can look like coping. But more often than not, it leads somewhere quieter and darker… isolation, numbness, or just a version of yourself that's harder to reach. I've seen it. Maybe you have too. So, if any part of this is landing for you, that's worth paying attention to. And you should know, you're not alone.

What I've noticed, both personally and in working with others, is that people often approach anxiety the same way they would a physical injury. "Something's wrong. Fix it." And that's understandable. We're used to that model. If something breaks, we repair it.

But anxiety doesn't really operate like that. It's not clean, and it's not uniform. There are too many variables, too many layers that make up who we are. You can have someone who's faced genuinely difficult, even tragic, circumstances and is holding steady. Then someone else, who on the surface "has it all," is struggling quietly in ways no one sees.

There isn't always a neat explanation for anxiety, and trying to force one usually doesn't help. If anything, it often makes it worse.

So before you dive headfirst into a stack of self-help books, it can be useful to understand a few fundamentals first. Because sometimes, constantly trying to "fix" it, scratching at it from every angle, can actually make it worse. Believe me, I know.

At its core, anxiety is your system trying to protect you. It's your mind and body recognising patterns, both internally and externally, and asking a simple question: do I need to fight, get out, or brace myself?

That response is built into us. It's not a flaw. It's part of being human.

The issue is that the system doesn't always reset properly. It can stay switched on long after the moment has passed. What was once a short-term response becomes something that lingers in the background… always there, always scanning.

And to be fair, this system worked incredibly well for us once. Back when survival was immediate and physical. When the threats were right in front of you, reacting quickly actually kept you alive. But modern life is different. The threats aren't always clear, and they're rarely in front of you in a way you can act on.

And yet the pressure is relentless. Keeping up at work. Showing up for your family. Paying the bills. Being present, productive, and holding it all together… often without much acknowledgement that it's actually a lot. There's no single moment to react to. It's just… everything, all at once, all the time.

And your system, to be fair to it, doesn't really know the difference between a lion in the grass or an inbox full of problems, a relationship under strain, or the quiet worry that you're not doing enough. It just knows something feels threatening. And it stays ready.

To add another layer, most of us carry a damn device in our pocket that was once just a way to call friends or family. Now it connects you to everything… but not always the good. News, opinions, problems, crises, all happening across the world, all at once, and all outside of your control. And while we don't want to dismiss any globally important event, it does mean your system is being fed far more than it was ever designed to process.

So it's no surprise that for some people, even when things look "fine" on the surface, there's still this underlying sense of unease. That quiet question: "Things are good… so why do I feel like this?"

Understanding that matters. Because it shifts the question from "what's wrong with me?" to "what is my system responding to?" and that's a very different, much better place to start.

So, how do I treat my anxiety?

CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) is essentially about catching the thoughts that are driving the anxiety and asking whether they're actually true. Not in a dismissive "just think positive" way. More like… pulling the thought out, looking at it properly, and realising that what your mind is telling you isn't always an accurate read of the situation. Your brain, when it's anxious, is not a reliable narrator. It catastrophises. It fills in gaps with worst-case scenarios. CBT gives you a way to start questioning that… gently, honestly, and over time.

Exposure Therapy is a bit different. It's less about the thoughts and more about the avoidance. The idea is simple enough: the things we avoid, we fear more. Every time you sidestep something anxiety-provoking, you're essentially sending yourself a message, "that thing is dangerous." And your system believes you. So exposure is about gradually, carefully, walking back toward those things. Not throwing yourself in the deep end. Not "just face your fears" as a throwaway piece of advice. Done properly, it's structured and it's paced.

But in short, and there are many more approaches out there, both come back to the same thing: learning to separate out what's in your control and what isn't. Being honest enough to act on what is. And being strong enough to face the fact that some things simply aren't yours to fix or control.

If you want to dig deeper into this space, Barry McDonagh's DARE is worth a look. It's practical, it's honest, and it points in the same direction. I've personally had great results from this method of what is otherwise, a mesh of both CBT and Exposure Therapy.

So this might sound straightforward. It's not. But it's worth it.

The reality is, anxiety tends to hang around because of how we deal with it. And the longer we deal with it badly, the more familiar it becomes, until the mind just accepts it as the default. Most of us try to push it away, drink or drug it away, distract ourselves, or just wait for it to pass. Keep busy. Stay moving. Don't think about it. And sometimes that works… but honestly, just for a bit.

So more often than not, avoidance is exactly what keeps it in place. It doesn't disappear… it just sits there, waiting. And the longer it waits, the louder it gets. What started as a quiet unease is starting to show up everywhere. In your body, tension, fatigue, that constant low-level hum you can't quite switch off. In your relationships, shorter fuse, less patience, pulling away from the people closest to you. In the way you see yourself, quietly chipping away at your confidence until you start to wonder whether you're just not built for this. And slowly, without really noticing it happening, you start to shrink. You do less. You engage less. And the world gets a little smaller.

That's what avoidance actually costs. It's not just uncomfortable in the moment. It compounds.

And here's one more kicker before we talk about the way through... but the real pain in the ass bit… it goes both ways. Here I am telling you that avoidance doesn't work, and yes, that's true. But I also have to be honest with you about the other side of it. Thinking your way out of it doesn't work either.

For a lot of people, that's actually where it gets worse. You start analysing it, researching it, trying to logic your way through it. You read everything, you convince yourself you understand it, and yet there it still is. Because anxiety doesn't really respond to thinking. If anything, more thinking just gives it more to work with. The mind starts looping, and before long, you're not just anxious… you're anxious about being anxious.

So avoidance feeds it. Overthinking feeds it too.

The way forward isn't around it, isn't avoiding it, pretending it's not there, or reading every book to break it down. The way through is to accept it. To acknowledge it and stand up to it. To move with it and, in some ways, lean into it.

To recognise it for what it is without immediately reacting to it. To bring things back to something manageable, what's right in front of you, not everything all at once. Sometimes that's as simple as slowing things down, getting out of your head and into your body, or just naming what's happening: "This is anxiety." That alone can take a bit of the edge off.

None of this is a quick fix, and it's not meant to be. Anxiety doesn't just disappear because you understand it, or because you acknowledge it. Your nervous system is uniquely yours. But you can shift it. You can weaken it. You can take some of its grip away. And over time, you start to feel a bit more like you're back on your own ground.

The truth is, you're far more resilient than you give yourself credit for. Other people might see it in you, but we're not always great at seeing it in ourselves.

I'll wrap this up with something a bit left-field, and yeah, it'll show my age. Some of you will get it; others will think, "What is he on about?" Think back to Super Mario Bros, any version, and the ghost in the castle levels.

It follows you… until you stop, turn around, and face it.

That's the metaphor.

You can't outrun anxiety. You can't avoid it, outthink it, outsmart it, or lie to it. It stays with you until, at some point, you have to stop… turn… and face it.

"There you are. I see you. What are you even going to do to me?"

And in doing that, something shifts. You stop running. You stop feeding it. And you start to see it for what it actually is, not nothing, but not what you thought either. It's not the actual problem. It's the thought and trepidation about how you think you'll deal with the problem.

Now, I get it. Some of you are dealing with very real, heavy things. The "ghosts" aren't abstract; they've got weight to them. This isn't about minimising that, or what you're going through right now.

But anxiety itself? That response in you?

It's not a sign that something's wrong. It's a sign that something in you is trying to keep you safe… just a little too well.

And when you can reframe it like that, "Oh, this is just anxiety doing its job", it starts to soften. Not overnight. Not perfectly. But enough.

Because from my experience, the real work with anxiety isn't about getting rid of it completely. That's a hard truth, and not one you'll hear often in this space. It's more about recognising that anxiety might be something you carry for a while, and that doesn't mean something's wrong with you.

What matters is what you do with it. You start to understand when and why it shows up. You work with it. And, in your own way, you turn toward what you've been avoiding instead of running from it.

The way forward is through.

Like my opening quote from Psychologist Jordan Peterson, the truth is, if you want the gold, you have to FACE the dragon.

You walk away. It remains.

So perhaps try just for a moment to stop running. Turn around. Hold your ground and take one real step forward.

Acknowledge your anxiety and make mockery of its presence.

You're far stronger than it, perhaps even more than you realise.

In fact, anxiety feels powerful, but it's actually pretty weak.