Walking Alongside the Noise
Anxiety's a constant hum for many, like a childhood trauma's echo. Therapy helped, but golf became my escape. The routine, focus, and nature all worked together. It wasn't about outhitting anxiety, but finding peace alongside it.
“The secret is in the dirt.” - Ben Hogan
“Healing from trauma isn’t an overnight process. It’s a lifelong journey that requires patience, support, and self-compassion.”
- Jasmin Lee Cori
The static is constant.
I don’t notice it most mornings anymore. A familiar drone just beneath the surface that is closer to white noise than a jolting alarm. I joke to myself that after 42 years, I’ve figured out a way to just accept my anxiety and PTSD “hum” as something that’s as much a part of me as two arms or two legs.
But it’s there. I don’t have to look for it. I just know.
Longtime readers will recall times I’ve written about having a severe anxiety disorder and how golf helps. Therapy, medication (as needed), and other treatments help, too. But golf turned into a different type of coping mechanism some 30 years ago. It remained a constant source of mindfulness no matter how often life’s stressors and triggers changed over the years. “It’s always something” is a refrain most say in jest while it could be a tattoo across my forehead.
The driving range became my quiet place around the age of 13 and while the physical locations have changed over the years the meditation hasn’t. The whole process - paying for a bucket or token, walking to an open bay, dumping the balls onto the ground, grabbing a wedge - is as cathartic as it is routine. Back then this was even more simple as I could grab a bushel of range balls I had already picked as part of my job at a golf course growing up. Regardless, the seeds of routine were planted as a means of surviving budded.
Some things from childhood stick with you. Sometimes you wish they didn’t.
Lately I choose to perfect swing plane while practicing. A subtle movement above the plane in the takeaway as a means to get my hands higher, followed by driving my trail elbow toward my midline to bring the club through beneath that same plane. An “infinity symbol” of sorts is what I visualize. It seems to be working so far, resulting in solid strikes and enjoyable rounds.
Focusing on this movement can be frustrating at times, but far more enjoyable than elements of The Static that creep back. Like the time I was molested by peers as a young child because I thought that’s what friendship meant. Or the time I attempted suicide just to see how it felt and as my sister looked on. Or the divorce of my parents weeks before Christmas during my most formative years. Or the handful of much smaller and common life stressors that present at work, at social events, or scrolling through news feeds.
I hold the opinion that anxiety, pain, and suffering is a habit. Stress can be, too. It can also be an addiction.
I’ve learned that I actively seek the one thing I wish to avoid at all costs. I don’t feel normal without something “wrong.” A Catholic upbringing (long since abandoned) taught me what might happen if I didn’t conform. There was always a risk of slipping up or straying from the path, which I’ve since realized is programming fear into a mind at an age that couldn’t tell the difference. Child abuse comes in many forms, it turns out.
Sometimes you get to sing hymns, too.
My practice sessions at the range last around an hour, mostly out of consideration for duties back at home. I try to make the most of that time, whatever that means for me that particular day. No matter how long I spend hitting drivers or rolling putts, The Static volume rises and lessens like a wave throughout.
The number of rounds I play in a season has also lessened over time and I rarely keep score. Walking nine holes by myself has become a favorite source of exercise, mainly because I’m not trying to drive away from anything anymore. Instead I walk alongside or slightly ahead of all the experiences and memories that got me to where I am now. Sometimes it feels like a fellow competitor, but most times it’s just there.
I wouldn’t know what to do without The Static in my life. It’s a part of our household. I’ve introduced it to friends. My wife is the most understanding person in the world and accepts the hum as a way to accept me, too. She is the bright spot in my darkest days when I am the hardest to live with. I do not take that for granted.
When my time comes to pass on, it will be there, too. The Static will be the last sound I hear, and I can only wonder if I’ll notice when it turns off completely, leaving me with silence.
That might be what terrifies me the most.
How Golf Has Helped Me Overcome Anxiety | Episode 162
On today's episode, Adam discusses news from the week related to mental health, including how golf helps him overcome struggles of his own.
Believe it or not, this is calming for me.
Today's episode was recorded at the end of a difficult week. We discuss news related to Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, and I talk about my own struggles with mental health. Golf has been a saving grace for me in many ways, and serves as a means to overcome anxiety and depression. If you are struggling or having serious thoughts of harming yourself, take the necessary step of calling the National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255.
If you know someone who struggles with their mental health and want to learn ways to speak to them about their health, visit MakeItOK.org to learn more.
Overcoming Anxiety: How Golf Gets Me From One Day to the Next
Readers of this site and listeners to our podcast know that we can get pretty "unfiltered" with our topics, guests, and subject matter. Overcoming anxiety is a subject I've touched on in the past, but I've never shared the full breadth and scope of how the disorder affects me and how golf continues to help me cope with my overactive brain. Let's change that today.
My name is Adam, and I have a mental illness.
Wow, reading those words on my computer screen is kind of intimidating. A few thoughts immediately come to mind:
"Do people actually care about my issues?"
"Are people going to think less of me?"
"What if the wrong people read this, share it, and other people stop coming to the website?"
In other words, classic "what-if?" questions float up into my brain in typical Adam Brain fashion. My mind and body go into fight-or-flight mode and I immediately start thinking of ways to delete this post as fast as possible.
But then a second thought whispers quietly in the background: "Why not let people know your story?"
Maybe that voice has a point.
Anxiety affects all of us
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, nearly "40 million adults in the United States age 18 and older, or 18% of the population" suffer from an anxiety disorder. Anxiety disorders "cost the U.S. more than $42 billion a year, almost one-third of the country's $148 billion total mental health bill," according to a study commissioned by Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA).
To put that into perspective, that's a little more than half of what is spent in the entire golf industry ($76 billion) every year.
Approximately 25 million people play golf every year; almost half the number of people who struggle with an anxiety disorder.
It's fair to say that statistically speaking, there is a very good chance one (or more) of your golf partners falls into both buckets. We've read about it in golf news and can probably think of multiple examples from our own social circles.
Anxiety is real, and it can be debilitating.
My story (in a nutshell)
I was always a nervous kid growing up.
My mother would call me a "worry wort" whenever I would spend most of my day fretting over an exam I had to take in school, the amount of homework I had to finish, or something I had been grounded for weeks prior.
I vividly remember laying in bed every night sweating and shaking from fear and worry about what might happen to me the next day, week, or month. Being raised Catholic, I recall feeling an intense need to say my prayers in the exact right order without missing a single word out of fear that if I messed up, something bad would happen.
Any stumble meant I'd have to start my prayers over again, sometimes leading to a "prayer session" that lasted an hour or more.
Whenever I got in trouble -- as kids are wont to do -- I'd react as if my world was ending. I was conditioned to think that any misstep or mistake should be responded to with guilt, shame, regret and punishment. At times my environment reinforced these thought patterns, but most of the time it was just how my brain decided to react.
Throughout my teen and early adult years I rebelled against myself, often turning to alcohol to deaden the over-activity I had going on between my ears. By age 19, bars, parties and drunken social circles become a place of comfort... and, well, you know how that story typically goes.
Dumb mistakes.
Impaired judgement.
Serious thoughts of suicide.
But thankfully, nothing that killed me or someone else.
By the time I graduated college I knew that I needed help. So I got it.
Therapy, Golf and Life
One of the biggest stigmas surrounding mental health is the concept of "being in therapy."
I sometimes jokingly say that I'm officially on my way to becoming famous because I regularly see a therapist. After all, anyone who's anyone has their shrink on speed-dial. Psychologists and psychiatrists are the perfect accessory!
But taking the step to talk to a mental health professional is what probably prevented me from hurting myself or someone else. And, through good fortune of speaking to a therapist who loved golf, I was able to find solace in an activity that already impacted my life so deeply.
I remember the conversation to this day:
"So, Adam, you like to play golf?"
"Yep."
"Maybe you should... you know... play golf more?"
"[Intense shrieks of happiness]"
Sure, you've probably heard people say "golf is my form of therapy." For me that is quite literally the case.
Golf allows me to practice mindfulness and living in the present moment.
Golf challenges me to deal with mistakes as they happen and move on to the next shot.
Golf provides me a chance to do something athletic, outdoors, and with friends instead of sitting at home, by myself, being lazy and ruminating on my thoughts.
But most importantly, golf gives me a chance to look forward to something every day when I wake up. No matter what, it will be there.
Looking ahead
Anxiety disorders never go away. It's something I'm going to have the rest of my life, and that's perfectly fine.
One of the best things anyone who lives with a mental illness can do is exactly that: live with it.
Acceptance is a wonderful thing. It allows you the freedom of no longer spending days "working on your disorder." Instead, you can simply acknowledge something exists and move on.
In my case, this means taking the opportunity to do something I enjoy more than anything else: play golf.
I encourage any of my readers to share their story as well. You are among friends in that regard, and learning from one another is another great way to help each other out.
In the meantime, visit MakeItOk.org to learn more about mental health issues and what you can do to help.
