Notice your breath. Are you holding it? Is it shallow? It tends to be when feeling anxious. Notice that now, but notice that during the day too—and every time you do.
I’ve heard many theories about anxiety, but mainly I’ve just felt it a lot—my own and projected anxiety from others. I’ve also deeply studied the patterns of it in my surroundings and in psychological frameworks, where one thing rings true: All anxiety is foremost something that hasn’t been said or outspoken yet. It’s something in hiding. And the fact that it’s often a combination of different types makes it difficult to pinpoint what exactly is pushing us over this edge, giving us a very real feeling of failing and misery.
But what if I told you that understanding the source of your anxiety might be as simple as tuning into where you feel it in your body?
For too long, we’ve treated anxiety as something that exists solely in our minds—a psychological problem that requires only mental solutions. But anyone who has truly experienced anxiety knows it’s a full-body experience. Your heart races, your stomach churns, your throat tightens, your limbs feel restless. These aren’t just side effects of anxiety; they’re actually clues pointing you toward its source.
The ancient wisdom traditions understood this connection between body and emotion long before modern psychology caught up. From yogic philosophy to traditional Chinese medicine, the body has always been seen as a map of our inner landscape. When we learn to read this map, we gain access to profound insights about what’s really troubling us.
There are a couple of main causes for anxiety, and each one lives in a different part of your body. Learning to identify where you feel your anxiety can help you understand what it’s trying to tell you. Think of these locations as different radio frequencies—each one broadcasting a specific message that, once decoded, can guide you toward the exact healing you need.
The “youngest” version of anxiety is insecurity. Common for this type is going to sleep and going through your day with a lot of self-judgment. It’s usually felt in your head and as stuckness in your throat—or you become very quiet, losing the ability to express yourself. This is completely paralyzing and will keep you stuck or close to depression.
This type often manifests as an endless internal dialogue, replaying conversations, criticizing yourself for what you said or didn’t say, worrying about how others perceive you. You might find yourself unable to speak up in meetings, swallowing your opinions, or feeling like there’s a lump in your throat preventing you from being authentic.
What it’s saying: You’re judging yourself too harshly. There are words you need to speak, truths you need to voice.
How to work with it: Start small with self-expression. Write in a journal what you wish you could say. Practice speaking your truth in low-stakes situations. Notice when you’re about to silence yourself and ask, “What would happen if I actually said this?” The act of voicing—even to yourself—begins to dissolve this type of anxiety. Consider also examining where these judgmental voices originally came from. Often they’re echoes of criticism we received growing up, now internalized as our own thoughts.
The second version comes from past trauma and genuinely living with a fear that it will happen again at any given moment. Something is haunting you. This is usually felt in your chest and heart, and it also happens because you actually do keep putting yourself in similar or triggering situations—but only for you to learn from them.
This chest-centered anxiety can feel like a tightness, a heavy weight pressing down, or even sharp pains that mimic heart problems. You might experience it as difficulty taking deep breaths, a sense of impending doom, or sudden waves of emotion that seem to come from nowhere. The body remembers what the mind tries to forget, and this type of anxiety is your nervous system staying on high alert, trying to protect you from perceived threats.
What it’s saying: You’re carrying old wounds that need healing. Your heart is asking for safety and reassurance.
How to work with it: This type of anxiety often requires gentle, trauma-informed approaches. Your body needs to learn that you’re safe now, that the past is not repeating itself. Practices like somatic experiencing, EMDR, or trauma-sensitive yoga can help release stored trauma from the body. Create rituals of safety for yourself—whether that’s a cozy corner in your home, a grounding practice when triggered, or working with a therapist who understands trauma. And yes, you may be unconsciously recreating similar situations, but this isn’t self-sabotage—it’s your psyche’s attempt to master what once overwhelmed you. With awareness, you can break this pattern.
The third version comes from future projections that are unreal yet eating you from the inside. You’re fearful for what’s going to happen, whether that’s tomorrow, next week, or next month. This type of anxiety can result in full-on panic attacks, hyperventilation, or just falling apart.
This is perhaps the most commonly recognized form of anxiety in our culture. It’s the “what if” spirals that keep you up at night, the catastrophizing that plays out worst-case scenarios on repeat. Your solar plexus—the area around your stomach and diaphragm—becomes a knot of tension, sometimes leading to digestive issues, nausea, or that distinctive “butterflies” sensation that won’t go away.
What it’s saying: You’re trying to control an uncertain future. Your power is being drained by scenarios that haven’t happened.
How to work with it: The antidote to future-focused anxiety is presence. When you notice yourself spinning into “what if,” bring yourself back to “what is.” What’s actually happening right now, in this moment? Usually, right now, you’re okay. Breathing exercises are particularly effective for this type because they anchor you in the present moment. Try the 4-7-8 technique: breathe in for 4 counts, hold for 7, exhale for 8. Also, distinguish between productive planning and anxious rumination. Planning leads to action; rumination just loops endlessly. If you catch yourself in the loop, ask: “Is there an action I can take right now?” If yes, do it. If no, redirect your attention.
The fourth version comes from duality. You feel it in your gut, and it’s usually based on something you really want to do versus things you must do. Your body is pulling you to do “the right thing for you” while your mind is pulling you toward “the responsibility you have.” This duality is draining and might give you the feeling of being completely exhausted.
This is the anxiety of living a divided life. Part of you wants to pursue your passion; another part insists you keep the stable job. Part of you wants to speak honestly; another part wants to keep the peace. Part of you wants to rest; another part says you must be productive. This internal tug-of-war happens in the gut—that deep knowing place where your intuition lives—and it manifests as a chronic low-grade exhaustion that no amount of sleep can fix.
What it’s saying: You’re living out of alignment. There’s a choice you need to make between obligation and authenticity.
How to work with it: Start by acknowledging the split honestly. Write down what your body/intuition wants on one side and what your mind/sense of obligation demands on the other. Often just seeing it clearly reveals that the “shoulds” are based on old programming or others’ expectations rather than your true responsibilities. Ask yourself: “What am I really afraid will happen if I honor what I genuinely want?” Sometimes we can find creative solutions that honor both sides. Other times, we need to make hard choices. But continuing to live in the split is unsustainable. Your gut feeling—that intuitive knowing—is almost always pointing you toward your truth, even when it feels scary to follow it.
Last—and luckily the least severe of all—is more of a “restlessness” type of feeling. You feel it in your limbs, and it’s asking you to move or do active things to get it out of your system. This is probably due to sitting too long in front of the TV or computer or engaging in other static activities.
This type shows up as fidgeting, bouncing your leg, pacing, feeling like you want to jump out of your skin. It’s not necessarily tied to any specific worry or fear—it’s more like accumulated energy that needs somewhere to go. In our modern sedentary lifestyle, this is incredibly common. We’re built to move, to walk, to use our bodies, but many of us spend most of our waking hours sitting.
What it’s saying: Movement is life. Your body needs to discharge built-up energy.
How to work with it: The solution here is straightforward: move. Go for a walk, dance in your living room, do jumping jacks, shake your body, stretch. Any movement helps, but rhythmic, repetitive movement is particularly effective at discharging this type of restless energy. Running, swimming, cycling, even vigorous cleaning can work. If you have a desk job, set a timer to stand and move every hour. Consider whether you might also be avoiding something through distraction—sometimes we stay glued to screens precisely because we don’t want to feel what’s underneath. Movement not only releases the physical restlessness but also often brings clarity about what we’ve been avoiding.
The next time anxiety creeps in, pause. Check your breath. Then scan your body. Where do you feel it? Your body is speaking to you, and pinpointing the location can help you understand what needs attention—whether that’s speaking your truth, healing old wounds, releasing control, making a choice, or simply moving your body.
Here’s a simple practice you can use anytime: Close your eyes and take three deep breaths. Then slowly scan from the top of your head down to your toes. Where do you notice tension, tightness, discomfort, or that distinctive feeling of anxiety? Stay with that sensation for a moment without trying to change it. Just notice. Then ask it gently: “What are you trying to tell me?”
You might not get an answer right away, and that’s okay. The practice of asking begins to open a dialogue between your conscious mind and your body’s wisdom. Over time, the answers become clearer.
It’s also important to recognize that anxiety rarely shows up in just one form. You might have insecurity in your throat AND trauma in your chest AND future worry in your stomach all at once. When multiple types are present, the anxiety can feel overwhelming and impossible to untangle.
In these cases, start with the most prominent sensation. Address that one first. As you work with it, the others often become clearer or even begin to dissolve on their own. Think of it like peeling an onion—each layer you work through reveals what’s beneath.
Also, notice patterns over time. Does your anxiety consistently show up in the same place? This is valuable information about your primary anxiety pattern. Or does it move around depending on what’s happening in your life? This too tells you something—perhaps that you’re dealing with multiple sources that activate under different circumstances.
There’s something profoundly relieving about being able to name what you’re experiencing. Instead of just feeling generically “anxious,” you can now identify: “Oh, this is insecurity anxiety. I’m judging myself and not speaking up.” Or: “This is future projection anxiety. I’m trying to control what hasn’t happened yet.”
Naming creates distance and perspective. It moves you from being consumed by the anxiety to being able to observe it. And from that observational place, you have choice. You can engage the specific practices that address that particular type of anxiety rather than flailing around trying everything and feeling like nothing works.
Anxiety isn’t your enemy. It’s a messenger. And once you learn its language, you can finally give it what it’s asking for.
In fact, anxiety—when understood—is one of your most loyal allies. It’s trying to protect you, alert you, guide you toward healing, growth, and alignment. The problem isn’t that you feel anxiety; the problem is that we’ve never been taught to understand what it’s communicating.
When you shift from seeing anxiety as something wrong with you to seeing it as information from your body, everything changes. You stop fighting it and start listening. You stop medicating it away (though medication certainly has its place for severe cases) and start addressing its root causes. You stop feeling broken and start feeling empowered.
Your body is wise. It knows what you need, what you’re avoiding, what needs to heal, what needs to be said, what needs to move. All you have to do is tune in and listen. And remember—notice your breath throughout the day. That simple act of awareness is often the first step toward understanding what your anxiety is really trying to tell you.
