Anxiety and worry are not the same thing.

People throw around the word "anxiety" as a catchall when what they really mean is "worry" or general concern. Our lexicon has become watered down to the point where TV show plots are "giving people anxiety."

I think this is a phenomenon worth paying attention to and here's why.

People's lack of discretion and tact in defining terms causes confusion while communicating one's experience. This leads to more anxiety, more isolation, and less community support.

We can use the word worry, stress, anxiety, or circus to describe our internal state, but if the person we're describing it to has a different meaning for the word we use, we won't get our point across no matter how hard we try.

Imagine two friends - Person A and Person B. Person A has no anxiety, and Person B struggles greatly with anxiety.

When Person A says to Person B: "I'm so anxious about the Super Bowl tomorrow" and Person B has deep rooted anxiety triggers that often cause panic attacks, they may feel put off and roll their eyes internally at the statement made by Person A, judging them as uncompassionate or even patronizing.

Person A genuinely may think the word anxiety is the best vocabulary choice for the situation, however, if they aren't aware that other people may have more intense definitions, they risk isolating, offending, or angering those people.

Coming at it from the other way, imagine Person B is trying to communicate a significant event that triggered anxiety in them.

If Person A hears "anxiety" and equates Person B's experience with that of a sports game outcome, they certainly miss the opportunity to offer compassion, empathy, and true understanding of their friend.

Let's take another example.

Consider physical pain. Stubbing your toe is uncomfortable. Rupturing your Achilles is unbearable. This analogy mirrors closely how I define worry and anxiety.

Worry = I'm disturbed because of uncertainty about the future.

(How long is my toe going to hurt? Will I be able to walk to work tomorrow?)

Anxiety = I'm on the road to, or already in, fight or flight, believing a worst case scenario is about to happen.

(I'll never be able to run again. I'll be bed ridden the rest of my life)

It makes sense then that becoming less worried and becoming less anxious are two different things requiring two different approaches.

Worry is more rational and allows for problem solving to relieve the disturbance. Anxiety is fueled by fear and throws logic out the window.

When we're anxious, we believe a catastrophe is about to happen at any moment. When we're worried, we can usually walk ourselves back with stress reducing techniques and logical thinking.

Worry also doesn't manifest as viscerally in the body. Anxiety can lead to panic attacks, hyperventilation, digestive issues, and any number of terrible bodily reactions that worry does not.

Why is any of this important?

It's important because if we don't understand our own experience enough to describe it accurately, then we don't stand a chance at transforming our relationship with anxiety from pain to power.

When we feel misunderstood we become more anxious and think that something is wrong with us. It's like trying to speak with someone who doesn't understand your native language. You might get the point across, but most likely they'll think you said something you didn't mean.

Especially when searching for community support, either from other individuals struggling with anxiety or from professional therapists, it's crucial to define terms and deeply understand what exactly we mean when we use the word "anxiety" or "worry" or "stress".

What does that mean? How does it feel? And how is it different from other words you might choose to use?

It's not that everyone has to have the same definition, but we'll constantly be missing each other if we don't clarify ahead of time.

Here's a framework for how we can do that:

1. Define what the terms "anxiety" "worry" and "stress" mean for you.
2. Use them according to your definition in your own life and pay attention to the experiential differences between them.
3. When communicating with others, clarify up front what your definition of each is, before engaging in conversation about them (metaphors help here).
4. Hold space and be open to other people's definition of them, don't assume you know what they mean, and ask clarifying questions often.

In the end, words aren't the thing and only our experience of whatever we're feeling matters. But if we want to understand others, and have them understand us, we must pay closer attention to the words we choose to use.