Narrator: Imagine dangling ninety feet from the end of a robotic arm, floating in the blackness of space. Below you, a multi-billion dollar solar wing on the International Space Station is torn, threatening the entire mission. This was the reality for astronaut Dr. Scott Parazynski in 2007. The anxiety of the situation was immense, with the risk of electrocution or being stranded in orbit. Yet, that very anxiety—the feeling we so often try to suppress—was a critical tool that fueled his focus, preparation, and ultimately, his success in performing one of an astronaut's riskiest repairs. What if this intense emotion, which we've been taught to view as a disorder, is actually a built-in feature designed for our protection and productivity? In her groundbreaking book, Why Anxiety Is Good for You, neuroscientist and author Dr. Wendy Suzuki challenges the modern narrative of anxiety as a disease, revealing it instead as a powerful, albeit uncomfortable, ally that can be harnessed for a more successful and meaningful life.

Narrator: The prevailing modern view treats anxiety as a malfunction, a bug in our system to be medicated or eliminated. Suzuki argues this is a fundamental misunderstanding. Anxiety is not broken; our coping mechanisms are. She uses the analogy of Rubin's Vase, the famous optical illusion that can be seen as either a vase or two faces. Our perception of anxiety is similar. We can see it as a terrifying threat, or we can shift our perspective and see it as valuable information.

This idea was tested in a study using the Trier Social Stress Test (TSST), a protocol designed to induce anxiety by having participants give a speech to a panel of discouraging judges. When socially anxious participants were told that their physical symptoms—a racing heart, sweaty palms—were actually signs that their bodies were energized and preparing them for a challenge, their entire experience changed. They reported feeling less anxious and more confident. More remarkably, their physiological responses became healthier; their blood vessels relaxed and their heart rates steadied. The anxiety itself didn't change, but their belief about it did, transforming a perceived threat into a source of strength.

Narrator: Anxiety is not a modern affliction; it is a deeply ingrained evolutionary adaptation. Suzuki explains that negative emotions are advantageous tools for survival. Just as fear is an immediate response to a present danger—like encountering a mouse in the attic—anxiety is apprehension about an uncertain future. This future-oriented vigilance kept our ancestors alive by motivating them to plan, prepare, and avoid potential threats.

This mechanism works through what psychologists call appraisal and action readiness. Our brain appraises a situation and triggers an emotional response that readies us for action. When a driver cuts us off in traffic, the flash of anger prepares us to be fierce and forceful. Similarly, anxiety acts as a protective alarm bell, signaling a gap between where we are and where we want to be. The discomfort it creates is fundamentally information, motivating us to act to resolve the uncertainty. It is a feature, not a bug, designed to orient us toward rewards, bind us to our social groups, and give us the endurance to work toward our goals.

Narrator: Humans are unique in their ability to be "mental time travelers," thanks to our highly developed prefrontal cortex. This part of the brain allows us to simulate the future, a skill that is both a blessing and a curse. It enables us to plan and strive, but it also makes us acutely aware of what could go wrong. Suzuki posits that anxiety and hope are inextricably linked, both defined by a moment that has yet to arrive.

At the Rubin Museum of Art, an installation called "A Monument for the Anxious and Hopeful" invited visitors to write their anxieties and hopes on cards. The author's son astutely observed that the cards often mirrored each other: anxiety about failing an exam was paired with hope for passing it. This reveals a profound truth: we are only anxious when we care. The same energy that fuels our worry about the future also fuels our hope for a better outcome. Worry is the thinking part of anxiety, the cognitive process of trying to control the future. When channeled productively, as in the case of Michael Phelps mentally rehearsing every possible problem before a race, this future-oriented thinking becomes a powerful tool for preparation and achievement.

Narrator: If anxiety is so useful, why do we see it as a disease? Suzuki traces this transformation through history. In the medieval era, anxiety was a spiritual condition tied to sin, as depicted in Dante's Inferno. The Enlightenment reframed it as a psychological issue, a "foul fiend of fear" in the mind. This paved the way for the 20th century's medicalization, solidified by the DSM, which categorized anxiety into distinct disorders.

This "anxiety-as-disease" story was supercharged by the pharmaceutical industry. The rise of benzodiazepines like Valium and Xanax promised a way to numb the discomfort, creating a culture of chemical coping. This desire to eradicate all pain has had devastating consequences, as seen in the opioid crisis and the tragic death of young artists like Juice WRLD, who sang about medicating his anxiety. This narrative also manifests in social trends like "safe spaces" and trigger warnings, which, while well-intentioned, can inadvertently teach us that we are too fragile to handle emotional distress, robbing us of the chance to build resilience.

Narrator: The antidote to the "anxiety-as-disease" story is to rescue anxiety by learning to use it. The first step is to embrace uncertainty. Suzuki argues that uncertainty is not just a source of anxiety but also of possibility. It is the engine of action. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the profound uncertainty motivated people to take control where they could—making lists, wearing masks, and strengthening social bonds.

This discomfort of uncertainty is also a wellspring of creativity. Suzuki tells the story of Drew, a theater artist whose terrifying panic attacks became the inspiration for a multimedia performance piece. By facing his anxiety instead of fleeing it, he transformed it into a source of growth and creativity. This requires a shift from perfectionism—the debilitating fear of failure—to what Suzuki calls "excellencism." An excellencist sets high standards but sees mistakes as learning opportunities, not a reflection of their self-worth. This mindset leverages healthy anxiety to persist through challenges and create something new.

Narrator: One of the most damaging modern parenting trends is "emotional snowplowing"—clearing every obstacle from a child's path to prevent any distress. Suzuki argues this robs children of the chance to develop what Nassim Nicholas Taleb calls "antifragility." Unlike resilience (bouncing back), antifragility means growing stronger from stress and chaos. A child's emotional immune system, like their physical one, needs exposure to challenges to develop.

Suzuki shares a personal story of teaching her nine-year-old son, Kavi, to ride a bike. When he expressed fear, her instinct was to dismiss his feelings and push him, trying to remove his anxiety because it made her uncomfortable. She later realized her mistake and apologized, allowing him to feel his fear while still encouraging him. By letting children sit with their discomfort, parents teach them they are capable of handling it. This approach prepares the child for the road, rather than trying to prepare the road for the child.

Narrator: To be anxious in the right way, Suzuki offers a simple, three-part framework. First, listen to it. Anxiety is information. Ask what it's trying to tell you about the future and what you care about. Second, if the anxiety isn't useful—if it's vague or there's nothing you can do about it right now—let it go for the moment. Engage in an activity that grounds you in the present, like taking a walk or listening to music. Third, if the anxiety is useful, do something purposeful with it. Channel its energy toward a goal that aligns with your values.

The author illustrates this with her own experience of feeling intense anxiety over her husband's stressful work situation. She couldn't fix the problem, which made her feel powerless. Instead of spiraling, she channeled her anxious energy into a purpose she could control: being a supportive partner. This didn't change the external situation, but it transformed her internal one, converting helpless anxiety into courage and momentum.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Why Anxiety Is Good for You is that our relationship with anxiety is a choice. We have been conditioned to see it as an enemy to be defeated, a disease to be cured. Dr. Wendy Suzuki powerfully reframes it as a source of energy, information, and motivation—a fundamental part of our human toolkit for survival and flourishing. The goal is not to live an anxiety-free life, which is impossible, but to learn how to be anxious in the right way.

The book's most challenging idea is also its most liberating: to lean into the discomfort. The next time you feel that familiar knot of worry, instead of immediately trying to escape it, try asking a different question. Don't ask, "How do I make this stop?" Ask, "What is this telling me that I care about, and what is one purposeful thing I can do with this energy right now?" By rescuing anxiety from its reputation as a pathology, we may just rescue ourselves.