The mysterious itch

I sometimes think that anxiety is a bit like having an itch. You don’t notice it at first, it's like a tiny whisper on the skin. But the moment you think about it, the need to scratch it becomes all consuming. But then the more you think of it the more it spreads. Soon you have itches everywhere! In the same way one anxious thought “scratches” at another, and then suddenly your whole body is on high alert for any form of discomfort. It’s not the original itch that overwhelms you, but the attention you give it, that's what turns it from a whisper into a roar.

Scratching soothes for a moment, but in the long run it just worsens the irritation. The skin reddens, it's now tender and sore, and the itch returns, only this time it's even angrier and prone to more intense itching. 

Now scratching is reactive. It’s the body’s way of saying “do something!” But unfortunately when it comes to anxiety, that reactive action causes your fear to spiral, and before you know it a single worry has turned into a full-body alarm.

So how do we dial down the itch! Especially when the anxiety can feel like an invisible itch where you can't quite find just the right spot. It is persistent, hard to locate and impossible to ignore. It nags at the edges of your peace, demanding attention and before you know it, it has spiraled into a full body irritation. 

But what if we didn’t scratch? What if, instead, we learned to dial down the itch? Or in this case the anxiety that is starting to flare. 

How? Well for me, naming that first anxious feeling is a bit like a cooling balm. Acknowledging that first uneasy feeling helps me interrupt the spiral. It shifts me from reacting to relating.

For example, the other day, I came across a message that felt vaguely critical. My first instinct was to delete the post it referred to. But I didn't, I acknowledged the feeling: “Ouch that stings. I feel a bit exposed by that.” Just saying it to myself softened the urge to react. It reminded me that it was only one comment, and I didn’t have to act on it. That small act of naming helped interrupt the spiral. Later, when I checked back, there were several kind, supportive replies—and they really helped.

Then I try to dial things down a notch - so I turn to a curious little ritual that I have. It might sound odd, but I start thinking about the alphabet—letter by letter—and challenge myself to come up with words. I begin with short ones: three letters, then four, then five… and keep going. I always start at A, and off I go. It’s a slow, meandering process that can stretch over weeks or even months. I usually run out of steam around the 15 or 16 letter mark, then move on to the next letter. The other day, I managed to land on ‘misunderstanding’—18 letters! I was quite proud of that one 😜. Each time I start again I try to think of even more words (no cheating, mind you, they are just words I can think of in my head ☺️). 

I also try to accept that not all anxieties can be solved. But I have started to understand that some of these threads don't necessarily need to be untangled. They just need time to loosen. So even though the feeling might be sharp now, it won’t last. It will fade, into a memory that I once felt, not something I still carry, if that makes sense. 

Now the next one I find very profound and that is writing about it in my journal or posting about it on one of the great forums and groups out there. Support isn't always about getting answers, it's about knowing we are not alone and that we are heard. You are not scratching the itch but you are soothing the skin around it. 

Anxiety's urgency creates a strong urge to act to "scratch the itch." But by calmly observing that urge without giving in, you teach yourself that the alarm isn't a true emergency, allowing it to de-escalate on its own.

Writing this has reminded me of a story from many many years ago. 

Back in my school days, my friends and I were always first in line for auditions whenever a new play was announced. Our drama teacher was very. imaginative and each year he wrote a fresh play full of quirky characters and originality.

One particular production was a comedy and featured a starring role of a girl who seemed to attract chaos wherever she went. As the story unfolded, she grew increasingly dishevelled, grubby knees, tangled hair, a magnet for mishap basically. One of my friends landed the part, and she was perfect for the part. 

By the final scene, she looked like yesterday’s laundry, crumpled, chaotic, and thoroughly worn out. Standing centre stage, she launched into a hilariously woeful monologue, lamenting how she’d fallen into every puddle, tripped over every obstacle, and collided with every possible mishap.

As she recited her misadventures, she began to scratch, subtly at first, a gentle twitch here, a discreet rub there. But gradually, it escalated into a full-blown scratch frenzy, arms flailing with theatrical desperation. And every single night, when we glanced out at the audience, we saw the same thing - a sea of spectators scratching along with her, as if their very lives depended on it.

Now be honest, I bet you're dying to have a little scratch now 😆

Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all