Anxiety That Can Be Reversed

This summer in Beijing I met some readers. Since I am at university now, I have little time to meet people during term, so many friends came in the break.

To my surprise, about half the friends I met had anxiety to varying degrees, some even losing hair or developing alopecia areata from it. Many were highly educated and generally high-earning. But income had not made their lives easy; their anxiety had begun affecting their health.

This led me to do a lot of counseling this summer—enough to cover my next year's tuition and meals. That surprised me; I do not want to earn this way. Counseling is not my main work, and I wish everyone could be more at ease.

The causes of anxiety vary, but a common problem is that many friends live in information cocoons, deeply influenced by anxiety-peddling articles and videos on social media, forming all sorts of biases.

Most of these friends do not meet the criteria for anxiety disorder or depression, but chronic mental fatigue still affects their well-being, causing insomnia and poor digestion. I want to share my view: such friends should overcome anxiety through self-adjustment. Of course, those with true anxiety disorder or depression need more than that—they should take medication when medication is needed.

I often go back to the countryside and meet village childhood friends who had little schooling; they are far happier than many highly educated people I meet. Whenever free, they find enjoyment: playing mahjong in groups, strolling, fishing, gathering to chat, laughing constantly.

They do use social media, but mostly to watch jokes we educated people find mindless, or lowbrow entertainment shows.

My intuitive sense is that the more anxious are mostly the "good students." Education-ministry statistics show that among college students, the higher the degree and the better the school, the higher the rates of anxiety and depression—junior-college students are actually the happiest in higher education. I am not making this up; you can look it up online. As a joke: I took the gaokao last year and only got into a junior college—how lucky am I.

Perhaps good students are usually hard on themselves, and excessive self-demand breeds anxiety, depression, tension, irritability, and insomnia. Many achieved "good grades" as children by sacrificing playtime and even sleep; long under the exam baton they formed high self-discipline but wrecked their natural circadian rhythm, and later cannot relax.

People need enough playtime to live with ease. Why do classmates who played and scored poorly as children grow up more relaxed, and often achieve more and have happier families than the high scorers? Perhaps because they balance work and life, regulate emotions after work, have greater endurance, and execute better.

I myself am relatively balanced: at school I both played and, in phases, scored well. As a child I played so many things and was so mischievous that my primary- and middle-school teachers despaired of me; I was punished often. By high school, especially from the second year, my grades shot up to where rivals were hard to find.

On the Big-Five test, my neuroticism score is 1.7 (out of 10; most people range 3.3–6.6). A 1.7 means emotional stability above 95% of people—basically no anxiety or depression—so my learning and work efficiency are very high. I was not always this stable when young; as an adult, life's upheavals briefly plunged me into depression and pain, but I recovered without medication.

Last year at school, my psychology teacher took an interest in me and often chatted. She watched me, at my age, balancing family and work while studying intensely and writing an article every day. She called me an extraordinarily rare case of emotional stability, optimism, energy, and efficiency.

My secret to not burning out is scheduling enough playtime; I have always balanced study, work, and play, and I only choose study and work I enjoy. So most of my life experiences are positive; I have always felt lucky, living in daily pleasure and contentment, untiring, sleeping as fast as a baby, and still curious and exploratory at my age.

I have largely left my child's education to him. He has always loved play and still does. His hobbies are too many to count, and I rarely stop him. Except for limiting phone and computer games, I put no time limits on skating, rollerblading, yo-yos, instruments, or model-making; he plays until satisfied.

I do not mind him spending time on play instead of study, or his grades or gaokao. However he scores, I think it is fine. When he does poorly, I help him make reasonable excuses to soothe his mother. The result: a child with strong psychological resilience, undaunted by failure and soon back in fighting spirit—something I am very pleased with.

In this he is very like me; I think after thirty he may become, like me, a long-termist, focused on what he loves, without internal friction, and likely to achieve well.

Great scientists like Yuan Longping did not even know what they were suited for before thirty! Young people should explore broadly before finding their true calling.

When I read books on depression, many emphasize that people who played too little as children are prone to anxiety and depression as adults. So if our children love play, parents should rejoice at having gotten an angel unlikely to be anxious or depressed, rather than sighing that the child does not study seriously. Life is long; livelihood skills can be learned anytime. The capacity for inner joy, once critical periods are missed, is hard to rebuild.

I still have many hobbies: tinkering with instruments (though atrociously), gardening, growing vegetables, cycling, ball games, and exploring the hills on the outskirts. With so much daily activity, I stay lean. Middle age has brought a small belly, but far less than many peers.

The psychologist Carl Jung, in midlife crisis, anxiety, and depression, found his cure in the games of his childhood. Playing in the mud by the water healed him. Many repressed middle-aged people can try his way to free their true nature. Once resolved, returning to work brings renewed radiance and sharply higher efficiency.

A major reason adults fall into anxiety and depression is poor balance between work and play. If one does not reserve enough leisure, lacks relaxing hobbies, and cannot alternate tension and release, one cannot keep working well over the long run.

Lack of leisure also pushes people toward compensatory self-numbing in sensual excess, stimulating unhealthy desires for excitement—over time this leads to trouble. I can keep studying and working daily, writing without a break for ten years, because I almost also play every day.

I have no retirement plans; I expect to live, learn, and work to the end—but to play to the end too. At school, classmates younger than my son nicknamed me "the old child"; I play with them happily.

Play also makes life more real and pure; a life without leisure is against human nature. I could never take a job that denies me ample playtime, or maintain long-term relationships with people who cannot joke with me freely. Even low-paying work that lets me play suits me better. I would choose what I love over high income or status without hesitation. Life's gains and losses cannot be judged by the present alone.

When a person plays happily, work and relationships also become happier and more relaxed; efficiency and sociability improve, and hobbies bring new friends. Joyful people appreciate others' strengths and get along more easily.

Wherever I go, I am known for efficiency and good relations. Because I play a lot and life satisfaction is high, I carry little resentment. I do not like to dump negative emotions on friends—there is little to dump anyway—and prefer to joke with them.

So my friends like spending time with me; they find me humorous, calm, tolerant, easy to be with, and stress-relieving. This may be why many well-off readers in Beijing pay to meet me, treating me as counselor and health advisor.

A person with narrow horizons and no hobbies easily loses vitality. Over time they become melancholic and listless. Many of our country's exam-product students are like this; as adults they are generally less happy and vital than their lower-scoring childhood friends.

I also keep a safe distance from social media. I post my article links to WeChat Moments daily—some middle-aged and elderly friends read my articles that way—but my Moments is mostly closed (WeChat has this setting, under the Discover page). I open it only occasionally, so I usually do not reply to comments; out of sight, out of mind is a relief.

I have also turned off comments on my official account, and I do not read or reply to the flood of DMs—there are just too many; otherwise I would collapse. I dislike excessive outside disturbance; I do not spend much time on social media. I need large blocks of time to find real joy in real life and dilute the fatigue of work and study—though, out of love, there is little fatigue anyway.

Go out, play more, meet more people and new things, and do not keep yourself wound too tight; we do not have so many missions to fulfill. Continuously breaking out of your information cocoon not only protects you from catching others' anxiety but brings new insights and opens the mind.

This benefits work, life, and career. Do this, and you will not need to drink various chicken-soup slogans. After all, chicken soup is not great stuff; some of it is quite toxic—including the bowl I have just ladled out.