How Scary The Feeling Of Drowning Is, In A Place Where There Is No Water

My anxiety has anxiety at this point.

It got me thinking...

Anxiety has this sneaky way of showing up uninvited, like that overly eager plus-one at a wedding who starts dancing before the music even begins. And once it’s in the room, it makes itself at home, feet up on the furniture, leaving chaos scattered everywhere.

For a lot of my clients (and, if I’m being honest, for myself too), anxiety feels like drowning without water. It’s that suffocating, heart-pounding sensation that grips you, leaving you gasping for air, even though you're sitting on solid ground. It’s like being stuck in quicksand. The more you struggle to break free, the deeper you sink. And just when you think you might find relief, it feels just out of reach.

But here’s the twist: anxiety isn’t all bad. Sure, it shows up uninvited, but it might be trying to tell us something. Anxiety is a messenger, albeit a dramatic one, signaling that something in our lives needs attention. Maybe it’s saying, “Slow down. You’re doing too much.” Or, “Pay attention to what you’ve been ignoring.” Or even, “Are you really happy with how things are going?”

The irony of anxiety is that, even as it hijacks our bodies and minds, it doesn’t need to be the enemy. It often manifests in the way our brains process fear. Take the amygdala, for instance. It’s like a smoke detector that goes off when we burn the toast. There’s no danger, but the brain doesn’t know that. It floods our system with cortisol and adrenaline, kicking the fight-or-flight response into overdrive. The irony? What we really need is stillness, calm, and clarity; things anxiety doesn’t exactly hand out freely.

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with one of my clients, Sarah. “It’s like my responsibilities are pouring into my lungs,” she said, describing her mornings. “I can’t even get out of bed before I feel overwhelmed.” Then there’s James, who froze mid-presentation, his hands shaking and his breath shallow. “I knew my material,” he admitted, “but all I could think about was what would happen if I made a mistake.” His anxiety had its grip on him, even though nothing was actually wrong.

Now, as much as we want to pin anxiety down as the villain in this narrative, there’s a twist. Anxiety isn’t just mental; it’s deeply physiological. It hijacks your body, convincing you that the room is on fire when there’s barely a flicker. It’s not just your thoughts that suffocate you, it’s your breath, or rather, your lack of breath.

But here’s the simple science-backed remedy: exhaling. Not just any exhale, but long, deliberate exhales. When we’re anxious, our breathing becomes shallow and rapid, as if we’re bracing for an invisible predator. But when we extend the exhale, we send a signal to our brain: “It’s okay. We’ve got this.”

One of my clients described her anxiety like this: “It’s like trying to fit a million puzzle pieces together, only to realize there’s no picture on the box.” Her anxiety had her inhaling, figuratively and literally, taking in every worry, every responsibility, every potential disaster, without ever releasing the pressure. When we practiced long exhales, her shoulders dropped for the first time in months. It wasn’t just a physical release, it was an emotional one too.

Anxiety thrives on tension, and tension thrives on the inhale. Holding your breath? You’re holding onto fear, expectations, and the endless “what-ifs.” But the exhale? That’s where the magic happens. That’s where you say, “I’m safe now.” It’s biology at its finest; engaging the parasympathetic nervous system, which whispers, “Rest. Relax. Let go.”

Maybe, just maybe, that’s the secret to not drowning in a world that always feels like it’s pulling us under. Instead of gasping for air, trying to inhale more and more, we need to trust in the release. Breathe in for four counts, exhale for six or eight. Let the exhale be your lifeline, your anchor, your defiance against the storm.

Anxiety doesn’t have to win. That feeling of drowning without water? It doesn’t have to define you. Sometimes, the answer is as simple as taking a deep breath, and even more profound in letting it go. In that release, you might just find the freedom to float.