Mia Ginsberg

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
Over and over and over and over.
Constantly counting,
Never staying still.
What would you do if this were you?
Let me tell you.
You push it to the back of your mind.
You try not to think about it.
But you always start counting again.
You write them down.
Anything to get the numbers out.
You fill one page.
Two.
Three.
It’s not enough.
You do things in 3’s and 10’s.
But never in 4’s or 7’s.
You constantly worry.
You think you’re going crazy.
Just.
Stop.
Counting!
It’s not that easy.
Where was I?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
Over and over again.

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Mia Ginsberg reflects on anxiety and an obsessive compulsion to count.

Counting

Fizza Raza

Draw the blinds, lock the door, wrap yourself in a thick blanket, and make sure no part of your body is exposed: these are the preparations for a horror movie. These same measures might also be taken if you suspect a murderer is breaking in. 

Many of us willingly seek out the fear and thrill of a scary movie, despite knowing nightmares will plague us for weeks to come. Pondering over this logical fallacy, I reached a conclusion: either some people are inherently masochistic, or the fear that we avoid fundamentally differs from the kind we actively seek out.

According to Dr. Kerr, a “scare specialist” at ScareHouse, Pittsburgh, the answer lies in neuroscience. Our brains are programmed to have a “fight or flight” response to a frightening situation, which includes the release of dopamine, a chemical known for triggering pleasure and motivation. For some, the release of dopamine can go unchecked, leading to a natural inclination towards risky situations. This finding went some way toward confirming my initial inference; some people are masochistic, at least to a degree, even if that is driven through chemicals over which they have no control. 

Further fact-finding gave even more credit to this deduction. People have historically placed themselves in situations of fear willfully: cliff-diving, sledding down steep hills, ghost stories around campfires, amusement parks. Roller coasters might seem like 20th century inventions, but archaic versions of the thrill ride existed in 17th-century Russia: ice slides, where riders on toboggans would speed down steep hills. But this conclusion still left much unanswered; if many people do enjoy fear, why are they apprehensive of other frightful situations, such as being stuck in an elevator?

This led me to more research into my second hypothesis that the kind of fear humans seek must be different from the kind we avoid. According to an Independent article called “Halloween and Horror Films: Why Do We Enjoy Being Scared?,” the differences in our reactions to fear lie in human psychology. The author claims that fear can only be pleasurable if the person experiencing it feels safe. This concept also explains why people go to extreme lengths to establish a sense of security before sitting down to watch a horror movie: drawing the blinds, locking the door, and more. The same principle applies to the haunted house attraction at an amusement park. When you see a looming witch or hear a piercing scream in the house, your instinctual response is, “It’s just a ride, I’m safe.” Knowing the parameters and bounds of the experience can go a long way in establishing trust and security in the participant.

The underlying assumption here is that people want to have some sort of control over the fear they experience, and creating this control enables them to gain pleasure or thrill from the scary situation they may be in. Deriving pleasure from fear hinges upon the foundation of security, and without this underlying sense, a situation can quickly become unpleasant. Being stuck in an elevator or being the victim of a burglary creates a fear which robs you of the feeling of security: an experience everyone hopes to avoid.

According to an NBC News article, “A Fondness for Fear: Why Do We Like to be Scared?,” fear can also become pleasurable because of the escape it provides. The author claims that the thrill of a roller coaster or horror film is amplified by the falseness of the threat that exists, as opposed to other, “real-world” threats. A person watching a terrifying movie is always aware that the demon or evil spirit exists only in the television screen, and this allows them to enjoy the experience, knowing that they will face no harm from the characters in the movie. When they are experiencing such a fear, they can momentarily escape other, tangible threats and problems, such as those of unpaid bills or mortgages. 

The author takes this claim further, suggesting that finishing the film or completing the ride serves as a challenge to be overcome. Thus, even individuals who do not find the fear of watching a horror film enjoyable may gain pleasure from the experience because it serves as a confidence-booster. This is more of a subconscious reason that people seek out fear and impacts considerably fewer people than the immediate thrill of being in a frightful situation. 

However, not all of us mark our calendars for the latest horror movie or Halloween. In fact, many detest all kinds of fear, regardless of whether they can control the circumstances in which it is experienced or the escape that fear can provide from real world problems. According to Dr. Glenn Sparks, a professor and associate head of the Brian Lamb School of Communication at Purdue University, one reason for this is that these individuals “suffer lingering emotional fallout if something in the environment reminds them of a scene.” Such people avoid watching a movie depicting real-life characters and objects in a scary light, in fear that doing so will permanently transform their view of such characters or objects. It is no surprise that films about killer clowns are a leading cause for many of us to run at the sight of the harmless joker hired at a child’s birthday party. 

Therefore, the idea that people, animals that always strive for security and comfort, actively seek out fear may still seem to be a logical fallacy. Yet, as research has shown, the human mind is geared differently for each individual. So if you are one of those people who religiously watch horror movies, do not worry; there is no need to question or deny yourself the guilty pleasure of fear. 

Gander, Kashmira. “Halloween and Horror Films: Why Do We Enjoy Being Scared?” The Independent, October 29, 2015. https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/features/halloween-horror-films-movies-scared-a6713446.html.

Manning-Schaffel, Vivian. “A Fondness for Fear: Why Do We Like to Be Scared?” NBC News, October 21, 2017. https://www.nbcnews.com/better/health/fondness-fear-why-do-we-be-scared-ncna812661.

Ringo, Allegra. “Why Do Some Brains Enjoy Fear?” The Atlantic, October 31, 2013. https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/10/why-do-some-brains-enjoy-fear/280938/.

Tartakovsky, Margarita. “Why Some People Love Horror Movies While Others Hate Them.” PsychCentral, July 8, 2018.  https://psychcentral.com/blog/why-some-people-love-horror-movies-while-others-hate-them/.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Fizza Raza explores our enjoyment of fear and taste for horror movies, Halloween, haunted houses, and roller coasters. 

Fear: Humanity’s Guilty Pleasure

Satya Shaw

I’m an 11-year-old boy growing up in Brooklyn, New York, and although my mom and dad have given me many ways to handle fear and anxiety, I’ve naturally come up with some of my own. 

My mom is a progressive Hindu and a women’s rights activist. She helps women and girls in Afghanistan go from harsh environments to ones where they can thrive. It is important to her that I know about my Indian heritage, and she teaches me a lot about Hinduism. What I have learned from my mom is that I should always do my dharma, which means the path that’s right for me, and I shouldn’t worry about what other people think. I think that’s the ideal way to live, not caring about other people’s judgment, but it is hard to achieve. I often worry about whether people like me, whether they think I’m funny, and even what people think about what I’m wearing. My mom’s ideal sometimes seems unachievable.

My dad is a secular Jewish philosopher and businessman. He is getting a PhD in Philosophy, with a focus on a German philosopher called Hegel. And he is always reading or writing. He often tries to tell me that no matter what I’m working on, and no matter how hard it is, I should always keep going and try my best. Even though I try as hard as I can, I often feel defeated by even the simplest of tasks. 

My mom and dad are, naturally, a big influence on me. When I have to figure out what to do in any situation, I look to my mom for advice, and my dad helps me think through ideas and make reasoned arguments.

I am very lucky to go to a school where there are no grades and we are taught to love learning. In every class, we are encouraged to ask questions, have discussions, and be creative. I feel happy in school and yet, even there, I experience anxiety sometimes. It could be when I’m put on the spot in class, encounter a mean person, or find a class hard. In those moments, I feel so much shame and embarrassment that I freeze.

There are three places my mind goes when I feel fear or anxiety: my home and family, my friends, and my music and books. Knowing that my family is there for me and loves me, and that I can trust them, always makes me feel better. I have a different relationship with my closest friends, and there are things I feel comfortable sharing only with them. And yet I am very insecure about these friendships, always feeling that they’re hanging by a thread, that my friends won’t remain my friends for long.

I am aware of the strength I get from my family and friends, and also that even though I’m so lucky to have them, I need something else to be a strong and confident person. I realize that I’m given so many ways to get through tough times, but they sometimes don’t entirely work for me. I’m the only person who can really truly know what helps me.

My mind is my greatest consolation and my greatest weakness. The anxiety that I often feel is, of course, all in my head, but so are the thoughts that conquer it, like the sun that breaks through the clouds. What are these thoughts that help me overcome my challenges? When I sit down to play the piano or the French horn and compose my own songs, I am transported to another place where I don’t have a care in the world. I am in bliss. When I make mistakes, I don’t feel embarrassed. I just keep going and turn the mistakes into something beautiful. Escaping into my books also gives me a feeling of peace and security. When I am reading a book, I feel as though I am wrapped up in a blanket next to a crackling fire, and before I know it, I am the main character. I am in the book. While the character may experience fear or anxiety, I, the reader, cannot be touched.

I have been brought up immersed in all these different cultures — the progressive Hinduism of my mom, the philosophical ideas of my dad, and the love of learning in my school. By branching out and creating my own path, I am honoring the cultures I was raised in, because all of them tell me the same thing: to be me.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Satya Shaw reflects on how his mom's Hindu faith, his dad's secular Jewish philosophy, and his school's approach to learning have helped him face fear and anxiety.

To Be Me

Abraham Weitzman

True West is on stage at the American Airlines Theatre in New York City this spring, summoning us to see fear and anxiety at their best. 

Brothers Lee and Austin, played by Ethan Hawke and Paul Dano, time their interactions to inflict maximum distress upon each other. They use their differences to define themselves as men. As only family can, they know each other’s weaknesses and exploit them to elevate their perceptions of manhood. Sam Shepard's script wastes no opportunity to find humor alongside pain; Lee laughs with us as he relates stories of his failures.

The story follows brothers with different values suddenly forced onto the same path. Austin is a screenwriter with a respectable career. Lee is anything but respectable, drifting about the desert conning good people. The play begins as Austin house-sits at his mother’s home, and Lee shows up. First, they fall into a familiar pattern of tormenting each other and making peace. When Austin’s producer arrives, Lee cons him into replacing Austin’s storyline with his. This changes the dynamic, but it does not improve it.

Shepard is masterful at making us care about each brother. In Austin, we see a man who has followed the rules and been rewarded. He has a wife, a child, a career, and his own home and car, but we see only his vulnerability to loss. Lee can convince people to give him what he wants, but he has only what he has recently taken. His confidence is superficial. This drives the story and keeps the audience rooting for both of them.

True West's script emphasizes the duality of manhood. Who is more of a man? Precisely what does he say or care about? Lee and Austin are written to embody this duality from Shepard's real life. Just as a sibling is the truest mirror of oneself, the brothers are two sides of Shepard. 

True West takes place in Lee and Austin’s mother’s house, so they are at once on neutral ground with respect to each other and filled with the emotions that come with revisiting childhood places. The set created by Mimi Lien is not their home, but it was. People revert to childhood roles in these situations, abandoning maturity for familiarity. 

Costume design by Kaye Voyce supports the character development. Lee wears a classic bad-boy sleeveless undershirt, while Austin wears a button-down shirt. The audience knows them before they speak.  

The acting makes the script real. Austin has been pushed by Lee all their lives. Lee uses various tactics, from persuasion, to threat, to theft. The minute he shows up, Austin is anxious, with good reason. This fear of the known is in Paul Dano’s voice, open stance, pauses, and the wary distance he tries to keep. Ethan Hawke’s Lee is anxious, too; he does not deserve Austin’s help, but he needs it. He physically dominates the stage, and by doing so draws us to him. 

The directing controls the performance and brings us along as roles shift. In the second act, the brothers find themselves in each other’s shoes, which creates levity and anxiety about the unknown. Director James MacDonald keeps us trained on the brothers as they jeer, attack, and ultimately build toward a violent end. This is not a spoiler; violence simmers just beneath the surface throughout the play.

It is preference for the known that drives much of our lives. We draw comfort from the familiar, even when it is painful. It makes brothers take the same cheap shots at each other as they did as teenagers. Fear of something different can be greater than the fear of terror inflicted by someone close. True West shows us both, allowing us to reflect on our own fears and anxieties.

I give True West five stars for giving me a show I cannot stop thinking about. I recommend it for teens and adults. Do not see it if you are not ready to look in the mirror, because True West does not give you a choice.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Abraham Weitzman gives his take on Sam Shepard's play True West, which is playing at the American Airlines Theatre starring Ethan Hawke and Paul Dano.

A Review of True West

Abigail Kestle

I slip on my boots
and slather on bug repellent.

With every step I take
I hear a subtle “crunch”
of the fallen leaves and twigs.

In the distance, I hear
the dog’s barking
and the far-off whistle
of a train.

I continue to pave a path over
fallen logs and knee-high grass
until I stumble
onto the loose rocks
of the creek,
dry now,
and missing its gurgling waterfall,
that dropped
into a whimsical little pond.

Faint memories,
of hauling large rocks
and tossing small pebbles
into the innocent pond,
as if it were a wishing well,
flood me.

Until I am brought back
to reality
with the "splish" of a frog
and the flash of red
from an outgoing cardinal’s wing.

I miss the simple summer days
when I would wander and lie
on the smooth rocks
of the creek bed
and pretend to float with the clouds.

These days, I drown
in homework, sports,
and chores,
imprisoned
in my own home.

And dreaming of the creek
and plunging deep into my thoughts.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Abigail Kestle yearns for the simplicity of a summer's day by the creek, without the anxiety of homework, tests, sports, and chores. 

Creek of My Thoughts

Uday Schultz

We are the generation of stress. Generation Z, the Post-Millenials, Gen Tech, the young people of today — we are, more than seemingly ever before, dissatisfied and worried by our realities.

Since a low in 2007, the 15-24 cohort suicide rate has risen by almost 50 percent. This finding fits with a generation which reports poor mental health as the state of the majority, symptoms of anxiety to be almost universally present, and mass violence a major concern. Our generation was to grow up empowered by technology and a changing, globalizing society, but that picture has darkened; we are destroying ourselves with our minds. 

Every generation has faced stress. Humanity has persevered through unchecked plagues, famines, and natural disasters with which we residents of a modernizing planet do not have to reckon. This reflection is not meant to demean the set of stressors we face, but it suggests more at play in our generation than a simple reaction to circumstance. We, of course, have good reasons to experience stress; our generation is faced with an immediate set of social and environmental crises. Underpinning and aggravating these “primary” stressors are changes in the way we communicate, which serve to worsen — universalize, even — feelings of anxiety among us. The 21st century’s great technological promise has become one of its greatest risks; its capability to destroy barriers has turned on us and wreaked havoc on the systems we use to keep our minds safe. 

With the advent of the smartphone, social media, and the 24/7 news cycle, it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain any level of compartmentalization in our lives and in our subjects of attention. The technological deluge is reducing our individual agency; an act as simple as checking the time incurs the risk of disruption by a rude text or unsettling news. Our newspapers have become our clocks and our notepads, our clubs have become our workplaces and therapists, our friends and bullies and worries now follow us home. Every time we look at our phones, we brace ourselves. The baselining of these little moments of risk into our lives is, on a definitional level, stressful. As a species, we do not react well to uncertainty, and barring some major shift in socioeconomic direction in the next few decades, uncertainty is sure to persist. 

 Social media’s power provides an excellent case study in technologically delivered stress. Bullying, feelings of exclusion and difference, and the need to be an “individual” have existed to some degree since our species became sentient. Social media has weaponized these feelings through its power to follow us everywhere. We are constantly being assaulted with visions of our friends’ and our idols’ lives – lives that have frequently been curated to suit the vision of themselves people wish to put forth. Personal experience and “instagrammable” realities have become so divorced that people now frequently keep two Instagram accounts: a private account for only the closest of friends (finsta) where one’s true feelings are exposed and a public, generally more "presentable" account available to the body politic (rinsta). This dichotomy, and constant contact with it, reinforces the schism between a “happy” society and the troubled self, with only you being different. 

Technology is an effective delivery system through which the pressures of the world are carried to my generation, and my generation faces many pressures. Gun violence, climate change, growing economic inequalities, increasing educational costs, rampant sexual, racial and economic discrimination, and a globalizing (and therefore increasingly competitive) planet create multiple strains of anxiety, carried to us as never before by our digital paraphernalia. Structural injustices can now be apprehended almost without effort — despite our secret wish to remain in a state of ignorance. The pathologies of a broken society are being amplified by our digital spaces, where all is accessible and arguable.

The effect of this rifting and bombardment is, of course, most pronounced among those who use technology the most and those who are in developmental stages of life – Generation Z, in both cases. Whereas other cohorts experienced life before this deluge, we are being shaped by it; our formative years are those of the technological revolution, a concurrence that seems to be imbuing us with anxiety on deeper levels than before.

Where does the cycle end?  Is the end point a state of anomie, where the bombardment of information and the fractured relation between the self and the world creeps toward nihilism?  Late at night as I drift off to sleep, the gentle glow and occasional buzzing sounds of my smartphone remain in the background. Check now, or wait until morning to know what lies behind? The question keeps me awake.  

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. "Suicide Statistics." https://afsp.org/about-suicide/suicide-statistics/.

American Psychological Association. Stress in America: Generation Z. Stress in America™ Survey, October 2018. https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/stress/2018/stress-gen-z.pdf.

In a KidSpirit Big Question response, teen writer Uday Schultz explores the unique stressors, namely technology and social media, that account for the rise of anxiety among Generation Z, which is coming of age during the digital revolution. 

Is Anxiety a Way of Life for Our Generation?

Botao Ju

While other kids were enjoying the beautiful sunshine of California, I was suffering from wounded pride and spiritual loneliness.


At midnight, I woke up again to fitful, loud snores from my roommate Jim. I could hear planes roaring above us, usually beginning with a trace of noise, gradually intensifying, rumbling, and then slowly shrinking to nothing. 

I wished so much that I was on one of those planes, on my way back to China, rather than staying at this camp, getting tortured days and nights. I groaned involuntarily. “I don’t want to stay here anymore,” I thought. “I just want to go home.”

That happened to me almost every single night during my first summer camp in the U.S., in seventh grade. Honestly speaking, the program wasn’t that dreary at all. No testing, no grades, no final presentation, virtually nothing was “imposed” on me, yet I was depressed, distressed, and defeated. While other kids were enjoying their days under the beautiful sunshine of California, I was suffering from wounded pride and spiritual loneliness.

From the beginning of camp, I had a hard time learning, which used to be my best skill. It was my first time studying in English, yet my listening comprehension wasn’t good at that time. I couldn’t catch even a word from my teacher’s long pedantic speeches. Plus, my major, macroeconomics, wasn’t an easy subject for a seventh grader. I had absolutely no idea what aggregate demand and aggregate supply were, or why there were long run curves and short run curves. Whenever I got stuck, everybody else seemed to be fine. I was afraid of disturbing the whole class or being jeered at, so my questions were never resolved, which hindered my further understanding. Only four days into camp, I received an email from my economics teacher, Mr. Dean, in which he wrote, “Archie, I’m afraid you can understand no more than 40% of the class. Maybe a lower-level economics course is better for you.” It significantly hurt my brittle self-esteem as a top student in China. I felt I was belittled and underestimated by him. I was annoyed and dismayed. 

Hardship in learning economics was only a tiny portion of my miserable life during those three weeks. What brought me the most agony was my bad performance in socializing. At my school in China, I had lots of friends and playmates surrounding me, letting me be the leader. But when I went to that competitive camp, things suddenly changed. I wasn’t the center of class anymore; I was actually at the margin and seldomly engaged in group activities, far from being the leader.  I wanted to get involved in American culture, I wanted to be the same as the other kids, but I felt very upset when I pushed myself to laugh as the native kids were howling at a joke that I didn’t appreciate at all. In that competitive environment, the most outstanding and outgoing kids eclipsed my light, leaving little room for me to grab attention. Honestly, that wouldn’t have been a big deal, if I didn’t overevaluate my relative position in a group. I couldn’t forsake my pride, yet I couldn’t earn that pride myself. That dragged me into a self-twisting mire, in which I was greatly frustrated. 

I had a terrible life during those three weeks, but that’s it. The loneliness and frustration were gone as soon as the session was finished, when I boarded the flight back to my nation. Calm, with the jets roaring beside me, I realized in retrospection that nobody belittled me or excluded me from participation. It might have been me, with my sensitive heart, who thought everyone pushed me aside. Mr. Dean’s judgment was correct and he was trying to offer help, and lots of local kids actually taught me the meaning of their jokes and tried to include me in the group. But due to the differences in culture, I took their kindness, their ways of interaction, as looking down on me, and I felt like I was in an environment where everyone else discriminated against and ridiculed me.  Self-esteem and lack of confidence clashed in my inner heart, creating a fretful ambience that enclosed me.  

Peacockish and afraid of criticism, I cared too much about others’ opinions of me and thus got easily hurt. Outsiders, even my parents, were not able to sense how much I mentally suffered in those collapsing weeks. They didn’t see why I was living miserably when I was supposed to have fun and make new friends. Since that experience, I have gradually acknowledged the fact that I am not always the best, not always at the very top among people surrounding me. I changed my mindset to be less sensitive and more objective. For sure, everyone has self-esteem, but we shouldn’t allow self-esteem to evolve into self-pride, which wipes away humbleness, rationality, and courage in facing our flaws. Others’ help is not mockery of our failures, but a hand to lift us out of the morass. People at camp were so nice to me, and I should have been thankful for my TA, mentors, and roommate Jim, who once offered to help me. I wish to help my young peers see that fear and anxiety are not imposed by the outside world, but rather derived from lack of confidence in our inner selves. 

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Botao Ju reflects on a summer camp experience that taught him how pride and insecurity can cause anxiety.

Apprehension from Within

Khawaja Mustafa Shah

There has always been a stigma around discussing mental health issues in Pakistan. 

“If you are going through hell, keep going.”  - Winston Churchill

While these words are meant to inspire people, some misinterpret them. These people say that each person should face their own problems by themselves and should not stop to take care of themselves or their state of mind. Such is the status quo of mental health issues in Pakistan.

There has always been a stigma around discussing mental health issues in Pakistan. Showing any fear or anxiety is viewed as a sign of weakness in our hyper-masculine society. Growing up, I was always taught to hide any signs of angst in public. Mental health problems are given no importance; I was always told that there were so many people in my country suffering poverty, starvation, malnutrition and various other issues that seem to be much worse than what I was going through.

The result of all of this is that Pakistanis have been pushing away all of these feelings into some dark corner of our brains, where they accumulate. Women in Pakistan are marginalized when they attempt to express feelings or thoughts that are not in accordance with societal norms. Many of the middle-to-lower-class women in Pakistan deal with some form of harassment, be it verbal or physical. The high rate of domestic violence in rural areas leaves many thousands of women mentally broken, with no support system in place. These women go on to become shells of their former selves, forced to internalize all their feelings about the traumatic incident that occurred. 

However, not being a female myself, I feel I cannot adequately describe the plight that women in Pakistan face. In the case of the Pakistani males, these dark emotions often express themselves as misplaced anger and rage over non-issues. A good example of this would be during any kind of sport. Young teenagers often come to blows over disagreements during a match. The dark feelings inside them cause them to hold grudges, which can lead to fights reminiscent of gang wars. This suppression of negative emotion is detrimental to the growth and the mindsets of Pakistani youth, and can lead to serious problems such as drug abuse and chronic depression. Oftentimes, the youth of today are labeled as “aggressive” and some in the older generation blame it on video games and violence in media, but they fail to understand that it is caused by the standards in our society that have been reinforced over the years.

Like many young men of our generation, a close friend of mine was going down a dark path, as he could not express himself to anyone. At home, his parents would tell him to stop wasting time dwelling on frivolous matters, such as his mental health, and would implore him to just keep studying. He would feel insecure about his capabilities and his worth. I could see the negative effect it was having on him. He always looked tired and had major mood swings. He complained of constant headaches and body pains. He snapped at his close friends over small things. It came to the point where he was shunned by most of his friends, except for a small group of people who were really worried for him.

This is where the positive aspect of our Pakistani mentality shone through. While we are told to deal with our issues ourselves, our older generation always instills in us the importance of helping someone out in their time of need. And due to our hyper-masculinity, a lot of emphasis is placed on the importance of brotherhood. We are supposed to feel empathy for our “brothers” and shoulder their burdens with them. As paradoxical as it may seem, it was this that brought my friend back from the verge of insanity. His friends helped him deal with the fear of the unknown by inculcating an optimistic outlook in him. There were instances where his friends would make plans for the day, only to discard them when he looked uncomfortable or sad. They would sit down and talk to him, rooting out the causes for his problems and helping him take steps to solve them. Even when he did not immediately improve, they never gave up. Due to their relentlessness, positive changes were finally seen. He got over his anxiety about the pressure of his studies and drastically improved in all aspects of his life. On the recommendation of his sister, he started going to therapy.

Any outside observer can gauge how far our society has come in terms of mental health. The older generation viewed therapy as a frivolous, useless luxury, and would have never admitted that something was wrong with their psyches. But now, even educational institutions have noticed the need for counselors. In most schools, I see at least one certified psychiatrist, whose sole purpose is to care for the mental health of students. Those who are younger than we are taught to speak openly about their issues so that others can help them combat anxiety.

However, many rural and poverty-stricken areas of the country still view mental illness rather archaically. They believe that it is the work of the devil and “dark forces.” Due to this mistaken belief, many people who need help from mental institutions are just sent to religious healers and do not get the help they need. Once the family realizes that the spiritual process is not working, they simply send the sufferer to an asylum, where the horrific conditions drive them clinically insane.

So, there is still much progress to be made. Schools should include mental health awareness in their curriculums, and mental health awareness campaigns should be held in rural areas all over the world. People should be taught to help those with these issues, not ostracize them. As education becomes more commonplace in Pakistan, the mindset of the society will change.

In an ideal world, implementing these changes would be easy. However, the world we inhabit is far from perfect. It is difficult to make people change the biases that have been drilled into their heads ever since they were old enough to understand. It is harder still to get those with mental health issues to overcome their fear of speaking about them. But it must be done.

When I was re-reading this article, preparing it for submission, I realized something. I, too, was a victim of the fear of speaking about myself. I was afraid that my peers would read my article and think of me in a negative light. So, instead of saying that I faced these problems, I said that it was “a close friend of mine.” In reality, the “close friend” that I write about in this piece is me. For the last two years, I let myself get buried under the stress of my day-to-day life. I was pretty good at hiding it, but those who knew me even better than I knew myself noticed something was wrong. My sister helped me realize that it was perfectly natural to have these feelings at my age and encouraged me to seek help. Emboldened by her words, I started discussing the issue with my friends, and they began helping me with it. I had a talk with my parents and was surprised to find that they were very understanding. I even started therapy, something which I used to view as “a frivolous, useless luxury.” All these steps have helped me to improve myself as a person, and I feel as if I am a better person than I was two years ago. But the one thing that still gets to me is knowing that millions of people all around the world feel the same way I felt and are not fortunate enough to have the support that I had. 

One of the things I love about writing for KidSpirit is that it gives me a platform to reach out to many people worldwide. With that in mind, I want to make a request to the reader. If you see anyone with signs of depression, or any other mental illness, please take the time to sit and talk to them. Encourage the people around them to be understanding of their situation. And for those who read this and are suffering through something, please reach out to someone. I realize that it is difficult to tell others, and even to admit to yourself, that you have a problem, but it is necessary for you to live a happy life. The first part of solving a problem is acknowledging it exists in the first place.  

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Mustafa Shah reflects on supporting those with anxiety and other mental health issues in his country, Pakistan.

Learning to Reach Out

Ayana Jhala

What are fear and anxiety?
What do they mean in our lives?
Are they a part of our consciousness 
Or are they our inner feelings ?

They could just be words
Or the things that keep us up all night.

Why are they there?
What do they do to us?

Can they control us?
Can they drive us mad?

How can you overcome it?
How can you stop it?

You can shout out loud, “I am not afraid” 
Or live in fear for the rest of your life

It is your choice 
It is up to you what to do 

You can face it
Or not do anything about it

I would shout, "I am not afraid" 
I would face it

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Ayana Jhala questions the nature of fear and anxiety and how we can overcome them.

A Million Questions

Liliana E. Guzmán

Dried petals fall /
Stepped on, with a crunch /
Blown away by the wind

Water currents, /
Running through /
Sharp rocks

Wings open again /
Riders using the wind /
Another attempt!

Tall in the grass, /
A plastic flamingo stands /
Against the strong winds

Waves not standing tall /
Though the sandcastle was built small /
Waves hit as it falls

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Liliana E. Guzmán shares an ode to summer petals, water currents, and sandcastles.

Haik(Senry)u No. 1

Lyla Cheary

I stand in a puddle staring
As my shirt and jeans get drenched.
I notice all the thoughts that wash up in the rain.
But not only those things that appear
It is my worries that wash away.
I feel them fall down my neck
And onto my back
And drip down my legs
Into the puddle
For someone else to carry.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Lyla Cheary conjures a powerful image of raining, puddling worries.

Rainfall

Kathryn Hirtz

BOOM
The beautiful firework disappears.
As American Child plays faintly in the background
I think about the men and women
who make the ultimate sacrifice for our country.

The carnival rides behind me
aren’t as full as they were
before the fireworks started.
I smell the funnel cake on my mother’s lap.
My brother sits on the warm soft blanket,
spread out on the grass.

Little kids
stare up at the sky in amazement.
The cool wind picks up,
just as the finale show begins.
So many beautiful colors.
Deep reds, bright greens,
ocean blues, calming purples.

As the fireworks end,
I say a quick prayer,
thanking the men and women who fight for our country.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Kathryn Hirtz contemplates the meaning of sacrifice, freedom, and patriotism against the backdrop of fireworks and carnival rides on Independence Day.

Blessings

Global Youth Voices

Young writers around the world pen letters to their younger selves with advice on coping with fear.

In this collaborative piece, writers around the world pen letters to their younger selves about coping with an experience that provoked fear. Participants think back on a time they were scared or anxious and offer some tips (including in poetry form!) on facing these emotions from their older, wiser selves. 

Let me introduce myself: I’m someone who loves swimming. I happened to see you crying and running away from your coach this morning. Don’t be ashamed. I know that Coach is famous for making young kids terrified, and you’re not the first student to run away from her. But let’s set the record straight: the reason for your fear is not just how horrifying it was when she shouted at you; it’s the deep water itself that made you afraid.

From the moment you first jumped into the pool, when you realized that your feet couldn’t reach the bottom even at the shallowest side, you were already screaming for help silently within. You felt the cold gradually surrounding you, and you struggled for breath, sensing the unpleasant smell of chlorine. That was the exact moment that a possibility emerged in your mind: death. You’ve heard about drowning, and you know that it’s a miserable way to end one’s life. You struggled to get out of water and hid in the washroom even before the coach finished her scolding. Now I’ve found you sitting on the toilet, shivering and sobbing.

No hard feelings, Yasi. I totally understand your fear of death, which is absolutely normal even for adults, let alone for a four-year-old girl like you. However, I’m not here to tell you that what you fear will never come to you. No, I can’t deny the fact that death is inevitable, and it is possible at any second. Nor am I here to tell you how to eliminate your fear, since that’s almost impossible. Rather, I deliver this letter to offer you some advice about how to face your fear.

At this moment, there is only one possible outcome regarding swimming within your mind, which is, unfortunately, death. But consider one question: Is it the only possibility? I admit that you might drown in the pool, although its probability is almost zero when your experienced (and terrifying) coach is watching you. But listen, not only will you prevent your may-or-may-not-happen death by hiding here all day long, but you will also erase the possibility that you actually fall in love with swimming. What does that mean? It means that all that probable fun generated by swimming won’t exist in your life at all. You won’t spend hours of summer vacations playing with your friends in cool water; you won’t have the chance to learn your grandpa’s secret swimming method; you won’t be able to lose weight in such an enjoyable way. All those wonderful experiences are part of my indispensable memories, as a girl who overcame her fear of swimming and turned it into her favorite sport at the same age as you are now.

Watch Yasi read her letter in a KidSpirit Shorts video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mbiuS7mkmg

Anyway, I’m not saying that you have to go back to the pool. You have your own right to decide whether to give it up or not. Just remember that you should never reject a new beginning because you fear one end. If you don’t consider all the possibilities, you’ll miss a lot.

You’ve always been a reasonable kid, Yasi. You know what you should do. No matter what decision you make, you are taking control of your own future — that’s enough.

December 5, 2014, was when your life changed. At 7:21am, you stared at your pink, polka-dotted alarm clock. You had been dreading this day for a while, but more specifically this event; it was time to say goodbye to Bibi (Grandma). As you left her house, your heart sank and tears filled your eyes. Leaving someone who had taken care of you and loved you since birth — your other mother— was the hardest thing you had ever had to do. 

The airport was crowded and you jostled your way through. One more goodbye. To Baba. The person for whom you would hide inside a closet so you could jump out and startle him when he got back from work. 

As the plane took off, you looked outside and said goodbye to your home for the past eight years. The only eight years you had known. You felt as if your head was being hit with a hammer. Twenty hours later, you landed in your new homeland with a thud as the plane hit the runway. You hated it. How could anyone love a city with so much filth? 

You thought things couldn’t get much worse. But they have. You have to share a room with your four-year old brother. Your new school starts two hours earlier than your old one, and you have to wear a uniform. You think you will never get your old life back, and that is true. You don’t know it yet, but you’ll get a better life. 

Watch Alisha read her letter in this KidSpirit Shorts video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXRSNEJS5bA

Be patient, because over the next three years, things will change. Moving to Pakistan will mean getting to bond with family you never had a chance to know: people who will be, literally, next door if you need them. People who will stop by after school in sleepwear, watching television and eating your popcorn. You will get a new room, and a vivacious, frisky puppy. Baba will move to Lahore before you know it. You will go to a new school and make incredible friends. You will realize it may have its flaws, but it also has its strengths, like kind-hearted and genuine people. In order to appreciate happiness you will have to feel these sadder emotions. The discomfort, sadness and frustration will all be worth it. 

Hey, would you mind listening to some old lady's words? (For the record, I’m calling myself an “old lady’’ because lots of people say that we sound like an old lady when we are complaining about something.)

Well . . . remember that tragic time when you were looking for the folder in which you had done your homework? Okay, I would like to suggest that you not look for it. Trust me, you won't find it, and you'll find something that you're not ready for, at least not yet.

But if you do look (because I know you will), you have to know that none of what you find is your fault; it's just adult stuff, I guess. You'll notice that both of them will do the same: they'll try to convince you that they are better than the other. It will be some sort of psychological war (luckily it won't be a physical one). However, keep in mind that both of them will be there for you whenever you need them, because they really love you. I know it's hard to realize, but they do. 

Watch Gustavo read his letter in this KidSpirit Shorts video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCZ7JJIewUA

Let's talk about our siblings now. Our older sister, Natalia: she's so wise and mature, and she's also the one that will support you during hard times. Our middle sister, Leticia: she's so funny. Sometimes she's annoying, too, but in the end, she will teach you a lot and also give you the best advice. And last but not least, our little brother, Rodrigo: you might think he's dumb, but he can fix almost anything without anyone's help. Now, you might be wondering why I'm talking about them? Well, this is because you won't realize how valuable and important your family is for you until you grow up, so, try to remember all of this and get along with them as much as you can. That way you will create new memories with them (which is highly important for us since we have memory issues) and with that you will also strengthen your bonds with them, resulting in a healthier life as a family.

And with this, I've said all I need to say. Be strong and make sure to always thank our parents.

At this age, you are a compulsive liar. Day to day, you draft mini works of fiction in your head and regurgitate them when it feels appropriate. When you see a friend wearing a sweater you like, you inquire about the brand and then feign a realization that you had purchased the same one, only three weeks prior and in green with a different pattern. 

You are constantly confined within your “truths,” as such a sweater does not exist and neither does your pink pet bunny, your canopy bed, or your cousin who makes pastries in Paris. But these stories need no further explanation; after all, you are well acquainted with them. At the cusp of when pretend is no longer appropriate, you use these lies to hold onto your imagination and worlds that could be.

For a while, your lies were frivolous, but now you’ve begun to lie about your race. What are you? Those three words act as a catalyst for your lying spirit, causing you to spew out the most far-fetched explanations for your racial background and identity. You claim to be Native American, Mexican, and even to have been born and raised on an island in the Philippines. You are ashamed of being multiracial, an insecurity which has sprouted from a fear of not belonging. Your confusion as to why you do not look directly related to either of your parents channels feelings of isolation and anxiousness. On Sundays, when your mother takes you to her favorite Korean restaurant, you bow your head and narrow your eyes, believing you stick out like a sore thumb, the only person who isn’t fully Korean. 

Watch Liana read her letter in this KidSpirit Shorts video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRm3_-199iY

Liana, at the moment, your lies are rooted in a fear of being different and a desire to be something else. We often lie about the things we wish we could change, and our lies embody what we long to be true. Thinking back to your anxiousness, I remember how binary the world seems to a child. Not appearing directly related to your parents does not mean the antithesis is true. You have your father’s ears, your grandmother’s eyebrows, your mother’s chin. But beyond surface observations, what really matters is the soul you share with your family. If you reflect on the mindset your parents have given you, these fears about the way you look will soon fade away. After all, reflection is the cure to insecurity.

I started off scared and insecure,
But over time I evolved.
I’m the new you,
With most of my problems solved.

I know you get scared easily, 
And there are a lot of mistakes you’ve made,
But here’s my advice to you
So you’ll be able to rest in the shade

Everyone is staring at you,
Waiting for you to speak,
And  your head
Starts to feel weak.

You overthink the overthinkable,
And your mind starts to scream.
You’re standing in front of them
With your smile nothing but a gleam. 

You break into a cold sweat,
And your knees start to shake.
Your heart starts pounding 
As your world begins to break.

You try to say
Whatever comes to mind,
But everything has gone blank,
And words are hard to find.

You hear a noise,
A thumping sound,
From your heart.
It slowly reaches the ground. 

We learn from the past,
To do better later on.
Here’s my advice to you,
So you won’t follow the path down which I have gone.

Courage lies inside us all,
But why wait for fear 
To come call it out? All you have 
To do is try, and it will surely hear.

Watch Adya read her letter in this KidSpirit Shorts video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQtWJGnb25c&t=31s

Accept your fears,
Know they are there,
Because worrying isn’t going to make them
Go anywhere.

Face your frights,
Don’t provoke your fears,
Don’t keep crying
Until you have no more tears.

Look fear in the eye,
Tell it what to do,
Because you are the
only boss of you.

In this KidSpirit Feature article, teen writers around the world pen letters to their younger selves with advice on coping with fear.

To My Younger Self

Sydney Cochlin

The world has ended for me many times
It always starts again in the morning
The world always sings a songbird warning
The awful feelings always last lifetimes

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Sydney Cochlin brings to life her experience of fear and anxiety. 

Long Nights

Jennifer Shannon, LMFT

If you were to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I probably would have said, “invisible.”

That’s me, kissing my pet guinea pig in first grade. As you might be able to guess from this picture, I was a very quiet and shy little girl. 

When teachers instructed students to read out loud in class, I shrank down in my chair, hoping and praying I wouldn’t be called on. If you were to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I probably would have said, “invisible.” Since starting conversations with people I did not already know made me anxious, I had a hard time making friends. Although I was a good student, my 10th grade English teacher gave me a “D” because I wasn’t participating enough in classroom discussions. 

The fear I had is called social anxiety, and it is one of the most common types of anxiety that there is. It is a fear of being judged, criticized, and rejected by others. Feeling this way from time to time doesn’t cause problems, but when we’re socially anxious a lot of the time it can really get in the way of making friends, succeeding in school, and being happy and confident. The good news is, social anxiety can be overcome.  When we understand where the fear comes from, we can see how to respond to it. 

All fear originates in a small part of our brain called the amygdala, often called the fear center of our brain. Its job is to be on the lookout for danger. For example, if you were in the wilderness and you saw a bear, this part of your brain would sound the alarm, making you afraid and motivating you to either fight or run away. We need to feel fear sometimes for survival. 

So why was my brain sounding the alarm and making me afraid of reading out loud in class or starting conversations with people? Those things aren’t dangerous, at least not compared to a bear. Why did they feel so threatening?

The threat I was afraid of was being judged by others, being made fun of, or criticized. These things can feel every bit as scary to us as the threat of a bear. This is because, just as wolves, chimps, and dolphins survive best in a pack, we humans survive best in a tribe. We depend on getting along well with others. If we were truly rejected by everyone, we couldn’t survive on our own. That’s why the fear center of our brain can get so easily triggered by the possibility of judgment and criticism. It’s trying to do its job of keeping us connected and safe within our tribe.

Would making a mistake while reading aloud in class or saying something stupid to a new person actually threaten my survival? Certainly not. If I had stumbled over my words, it is possible a classmate may have made fun of me or not wanted to talk with me if I went up to them, but I wouldn’t have been kicked out of my tribe! The fear center of my brain overestimated the threat, flooding my body with fight-or-flight hormones.  And because I felt so afraid, I thought I should be. I thought that to be safe, I needed to be perfect.

If you are socially anxious, you believe that, when talking with people, you always need to sound interesting, smart, and funny. If you are in a conversation and there’s an awkward silence, you think it must be your fault. You must never ask a stupid question, you must always know the right answer, you must never make mistakes, and you must definitely not show any signs of anxiety like blushing or stumbling over your words! Sound familiar? When you think you have to be socially perfect, you’re going to have lots of social anxiety. Because nobody is perfect, not even the popular, confident kids in your class. (People who are confident socially are not more perfect than the rest of us. They just don’t believe they have to be perfect to be accepted.)

When you think you need to be perfect, you will end up avoiding things where you might make a mistake, like raising your hand to answer a question in class. You won’t want to start a conversation because you might say something stupid. You will avoid asking people to do things with you because you might get rejected. It is this avoidance that maintains your social anxiety and keeps you from gaining confidence and having the connections you want with others.

In order to gain social confidence, you need to approach what makes you anxious — people! And to do this you have to let go of this idea that you always have to be perfect. Perfect is like hitting a bullseye, it doesn’t happen all the time. To make connection with others, all you have to do is hit the target.

When I was in college, I decided I wanted to work on becoming less socially anxious. I made it a daily exercise that when I went to class, I’d say “hi” to a classmate, ask them a question, and share something about myself. The last part was the hardest for me because I was worried I would sound foolish and they would be bored. I reminded myself that I did not need to impress them, that just saying hello and starting any kind of conversation was hitting the target. It made me anxious, especially at the beginning, but after about three months of target practice, I started to feel less anxious, and I was getting to know my classmates, and they were getting to know me. 

I went on to become a therapist specializing in helping kids and adults overcome their anxiety. I write books and give trainings on anxiety, which means talking in front of large groups of people. My amygdala doesn’t like this, so my heart often races, and my hands sometimes sweat and tremble. But I know there’s no real danger.  And although its uncomfortable, it is worth it. I’m following my passion, becoming more visible and authentic, and sharing the message that I write about in my books.  Social anxiety isn’t a threat. Don’t let it stop you from following your passion and bringing your unique essence to the world!

In a KidSpirit PerSpectives article, psychotherapist Jennifer Shannon, LMFT, shares her wisdom on overcoming social anxiety.

Feeling Shy? You Are Not Alone

Sofia Mesh

Self-help books have always been a go-to choice of mine. I feel productive and like I am taking charge of my life when reading them. 

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Sofia Mesh gives her take on the self-help book My Anxious Mind by Michael Tompkins and Katherine Martinez.

A Review of My Anxious Mind

Fear, one of our core emotions, is a basic part of being human. But in modern times, we often wonder if panic and anxiety are becoming more of a roadblock to thriving than an aid to surviving. In this issue, KidSpirit contributors explore the many ups and downs of being afraid.

Counting

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