What I’m Doing to Feel Less Anxious (and Not Get Eaten Alive by My Laptop)

The Practice Anxiety Edition

The Practice is a regular series delivering holistic, heart-sourced guidance on body-mind-spirit wellness. You can upgrade your subscription for full access here:

Dearest Reader,

Remember two months ago when my bank card was hacked? And how that ordinary, cost-of-doing-business-in-today’s-world occurrence knocked me right out of my practice and right into a tailspin of old patterns and deep dread around money? And how, thank all that is good, Sexy CIBC Man swooped in with his British accent and calm cadence like a (disarmingly hot) financial fraud first responder?

Well, great news: I was hacked again!

Okay, okay, that’s not the great news. It’s this: I handled it much better! Sometimes, you just have to celebrate the wins, you know?

And, even while celebrating, sometimes you spend three full days, in the middle of an already full work week, changing every single password and login for every account you’ve ever opened in the history of your digital existence.

Sure, the banks. But also email accounts, professional licensing sites, outdated web domains, overseas voting registries, herb suppliers for my patients, tools like DropBox (despise them, don’t recommend)—basically every inch of the internet where I’ve ever entered my email.

I closed as many accounts as I could. The ones that remain now have passwords that look like this:

j’ibeuhYH”LN87tpiu%$#(B;venpGDF$utiBegT=ihRRQ/ve’ad’hb’ri&%ETUVv^mve?

Upside: no one’s guessing my passwords. Downsides: 1. someone “guessing my passwords” probably wasn’t how my cards got hacked, and 2. getting back into my own accounts has become a very special obstacle course.

Throughout, though, I stayed calm. I locked the card and called the bank (a U.S. one this time). I moved slowly and methodically. I channeled my Buddhist teacher Gil Fronsdal instead of a twelve-year-old in meltdown. I reached a place of acceptance and began taking responsive action within seconds—no Sexy CIBC Man required.

I also decided—early on, and without fighting it—to let other things wait. Operation Fuck You Hackers and MUST SIMPLIFY ALL THE THINGS (except passwords) took top priority.

A key part of this was remembering one of my most reliable, most magical go-tos in times of overwhelm or anxiety. I asked myself:

Where can I make things simpler?

What can I let go of, right now in this moment, to create more space, ease, and clarity?

This is the same move that helps when I’m spinning out about anything: work, the world, family, health, moving abroad with two cats and just carry-ons.

Where can I make things simpler? That in mind, what’s my next step?

Then, I do it. Focusing my undivided attention on the task at hand, getting into the zone, taking one step, then another.

Weirdly (but also not, because this is how our brains respond to single tasking with mindfulness), the process itself works wonders. Before Operation Must Simplify is even close to complete, I start feeling calmer, clearer, and happier.

3 more things helping me focus, feel less anxious, and tend to what matters

How we do one thing really is how we do everything. This means that we can shift larger patterns (how we do everything) by tending to one thing with care. In my experience, that creates helpful momentum and, over time with consistency, even shifts deep-rooted patterns.

(For more on identifying and changing default patterns—especially as they relate to food, booze, money, stuff, scrolling, relationships, etc.—start with this edition of The Practice, this edition of the Financial Sobriety series, and Part 2 of the Quieting Food Noise series.)

Often, a big part of not resolving—or even getting to—the “real issue” is spending a heck of a lot of time doing things we don’t need, want, or even like to do! Things (many online, many in our own heads) that are unhelpful and, without fail, make us feel worse.

If that sounds familiar, here are three practices helping me lately. (They align nicely with Operation Simplify, above.)

---

1. Three things and a notebook

A few weeks ago, as part of my ongoing commitment to making offline life primary (just like the good ol’ days), I tore myself away from my laptop, got myself to MUJI (a Japanese department store), and bought a new spiral-bound notebook and an extra-fine (0.38!) Japanese pen. I also picked up some rosemary essential oil (activating, focusing) and a sleep blend (calming) for backup.

Then I came home, placed my laptop on the floor far away from my desk, and made a weekly chart with days along the side and JUST THREE THINGS I want to prioritize across the top: practice yoga, practice Thai, read nonfiction books.

This gives me three good options (not too many, not overwhelming) plus offers a tangible, can-place-on-my-desk-and-hold-in-my-hands reminder of what matters way more to me than scrolling Notes, checking headlines, or getting eaten alive by my laptop. Here’s a visual:

The numbers are blocks of time in minutes. As you can see, I don’t always get to everything—especially when immersed in writing or work projects. The key is this: instead of spending spare moments on things that leave me feeling worse, I’m devoting them to things that make me feel better. Bonus: looking back at this chart at the end of the day or week makes me feel better, too!

When I catch myself wasting time (wasting life, honestly) online, I stop and do one of those three things instead.

This very visual, very analogue tool encourages me to do more of what lights me up and leaves me feeling present, focused, and fulfilled (rather than checked-out, scattered, and empty).

Crucially, those three things (yoga, Thai, reading nonfiction books) are things I want to be doing and actually enjoy. They also offer obvious, immediate benefits: helping me care less about what’s happening online while leaving me calmer, clearer, more knowledgeable, and way more content.

---

2. Permission to abandon optional tasks

Thanks to last week’s time-devouring bank fraud and password project, I had to push pause on a few other items. In doing so, I remembered:

I’m in charge of my life! I’m allowed to quit things! Especially when those things meet these three criteria:

1. They are self-imposed and 100-percent optional.

2. I sense resentment or depletion around them.

3. They feel heavy, dread-inducing, not life-giving.

In practice, this looked like quitting a (self-imposed) writing assignment I’d had on my agenda—something that would’ve taken days to complete.

Probably no one will notice. If they do…

Oh well! It’s really not a big deal! Nobody died! But pulling the plug on that particular project was a big deal to me. Doing so made my life simpler, opened up space, and helped me feel more creative, inspired, and lighter.

---

3. Expanding outwards visualization/meditation

Lastly, on evenings when I’m feeling particularly anxious, I’ve been weaving the following visualization into my meditation and yoga practice:

I witness myself in my room doing what I’m doing at that moment (whether holding gentle stretches or sitting in meditation posture). I then gradually expand my awareness outwards: picturing the alley where we live and the homes of our neighbors, extending further to the surrounding block, then the nearby outdoor market, then the nearby Buddhist temple, then the larger outdoor market a 15-minute walk away.

I widen my sphere of awareness slowly, imagining people in their homes along the way, moving out further and further. I don’t dwell on any particular building or person, but rather hold in my awareness the wondrous reality that each of these people—down the alley, around the block, stretching past the markets and temple—holds entire worlds inside. Each has waves of emotion that rise and fall. Each has their own present and past and future. Each has their own fears, concerns, hopes, and connections.

​​Within this whole, my personal preoccupations become smaller, less pressing, less urgent. We all have this. We’re all in it. And somehow, when I think of it that way, I find myself awash in wonder and gratitude. Also tenderness, love, and compassion.

We all get to do this. I get to do this. This human body. This human life. The ebbs and flows. The wild ride. The web of connection.

Truthfully, I hesitated to share this last practice because I’m conscious of how trite or clichéd it might sound. How earnest and possibly fake. But it’s not—not when I get quiet, go inwards, take my time, and feel it.

If you’d like to try, here are some tips:

1. You could do this “expansion visualization” anytime, anywhere (it’s worth trying anytime, anywhere!). But also, if possible, try it at dawn or in the evening, in a quiet room or space outdoors, with minimal or no artificial lighting. Turn off all electronic devices.

2. I personally prefer (probably need) to move, stretch, and connect with my body either before or during this sort of practice. Otherwise, I feel mentally and physically agitated and can’t go nearly as deep. (If you’d like guidance on connecting with your body, The Practice archives are a great starting point. Also check out Part 2 of the Quieting Food Noise series.)

3. Go slow, with curious attention. There’s no final destination with this exercise, and you’ll need to experiment to find your sweet spot: the one that helps you feel less anxious, more at ease. Personally, I do best when I keep my “sphere of awareness” relatively close to home: our alley, our block, the nearby market. I notice that when I extend further—to other parts of Chiang Mai, Thailand, Southeast Asia, the world, the universe—sometimes it still works… other times I start to feel overwhelmed and more anxious. Extend your sphere of awareness out, then pull back if needed, then maybe extend out slightly. Play with it, be willing to be surprised, and remember that what feels best and most helpful will probably change—day to day, or even moment to moment.

I think why I find this practice so helpful is it restores a felt, embodied sense of what’s real, what’s shared, and all that’s known and unknown. I climb out of narrow narratives and online perspectives. I remember that today’s concerns are contained within a much larger whole. For a little while at least, I loosen my grip. I exhale, make space for awe, ease into the flow.

Together, these simple practices help me show up more beautifully.

When I simplify—when I slow down, do fewer things with more attention and care—I feel more focused, less anxious. When I expand my perspective to my very real (not abstract, imagined, or narrated) surrounds, I remember we all have this. “This” being humanness.

From here, I can show up more responsively, effectively, and fully. I also have a whole lot more access to my heart, compassion, and listening.

Will this stop bank fraud? Nope. Will it fix world politics or prevent widespread injustice? Not a chance. Will it change the fact that every single person I love and cherish will, beyond a doubt, someday depart this body and form? Sigh…

But it’s what I can do—right now in this moment—to take care of myself and show up for others. Because far more than scrolling or skimming or complaining or raging—far more than doing anything that makes me more scattered, reactive, ineffective, and anxious—these simple practices help me not waste this life. They help me show up more beautifully.

I’d love to know:

• Have you ever tried to simplify your online life? How’d it go? (Or how’s it going?)

• What three things would you write in your own spiral notebook—things to do whenever you catch yourself spending time in ways that leave you feeling worse rather than better?

• What’s one optional task you could give yourself permission to completely, unapologetically abandon this week? Tell us, then let it go!

• Did you try the expansion visualization? What came up for you, and what’s your sweet spot—further out, or closer to home?

With love,
Dana