Why Worry? by George Lincoln Walton, M.D.
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WHY WORRY?
BY
GEORGE LINCOLN WALTON, M.D.
CONSULTING NEUROLOGIST TO THE MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL HOSPITAL
The legs of the stork are long, the legs of the duck are short; you cannot
make the legs of the stork short, neither can you make the legs of the duck
long. Why worry?--_Chwang Tsze_.
TO MY LONG-SUFFERING FAMILY AND CIRCLE OF FRIENDS, WHOSE PATIENCE HAS
BEEN TRIED BY MY EFFORTS TO ELIMINATE WORRY, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
No apology is needed for adding another to the treatises on a subject whose
importance is evidenced by the number already offered the public.
The habit of worry is not to be overcome by unaided resolution. It is hoped
that the victim of this unfortunate tendency may find, among the homely
illustrations and commonplace suggestions here offered, something to turn
his mind into more healthy channels. It is not the aim of the writer to
transform the busy man into a philosopher of the indolent and contemplative
type, but rather to enable him to do his work more effectively by
eliminating undue solicitude. This elimination is consistent even with the
"strenuous life."
One writer has distinguished between normal and abnormal worry, and
directed his efforts against the latter. Webster's definition of worry (A
state of undue solicitude) obviates the necessity of deciding what degree
and kind of worry is abnormal, and directs attention rather to deciding
what degree of solicitude may be fairly adjudged undue.
In the treatment of a subject of this character a certain amount of
repetition is unavoidable. But it is hoped that the reiteration of
fundamental principles and of practical hints will aid in the application
of the latter. The aim is the gradual establishment of a _frame of mind_.
The reader who looks for the annihilation of individual worries, or who
hopes to influence another by the direct application of the suggestions,
may prepare, in the first instance for disappointment, in the second, for
trouble.
The thanks of the writer are due to Miss Amy Morris Homans, Director of
the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics, for requesting him to make to her
students the address which forms the nucleus of these pages.
GEORGE L. WALTON.
BOSTON, April, 1908.
CONTENTS
I. INTRODUCTORY
II. EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER
III. THE PSYCHO-THERAPY OF MARCUS AURELIUS
IV. ANALYSIS OF WORRY
V. WORRY AND OBSESSION
VI. THE DOUBTING FOLLY
VII. HYPOCHONDRIA
VIII. NEURASTHENIA
IX. SLEEPLESSNESS
X. OCCUPATION NEUROSIS
XI. THE WORRIER AT HOME
XII. THE WORRIER ON HIS TRAVELS
XIII. THE WORRIER AT THE TABLE
XIV. THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE
XV. RECAPITULATORY
XVI. MAXIMS MISAPPLIED
XVII. THE FAD
XVIII. HOME TREATMENT
XIX. HOME TREATMENT CONTINUED
DEFINITIONS.
WORRY. A state of undue solicitude.
HYPOCHONDRIA. A morbid mental condition characterized by undue solicitude
regarding the health, and undue attention to matters thereto pertaining.
OBSESSION. An unduly insistent and compulsive thought, habit of mind, or
tendency to action.
DOUBTING FOLLY (_Folie du doute_.) A state of mind characterized by a
tendency unduly to question, argue and speculate upon ordinary matters.
NEURASTHENIA. A form of nervous disturbance characterized by exhaustion and
irritability.
PHOBIA. An insistent and engrossing fear without adequate cause, as judged
by ordinary standards.
OCCUPATION NEUROSIS. A nervous disorder in which pain, sometimes with
weakness and cramp, results from continued use of a part.
PSYCHO-THERAPY. Treatment through the mind.
No other technical terms are used.
I.
INTRODUCTORY
When Thales was asked what was difficult he said, "To know oneself"; and
what was easy, "To advise another."
Marcus Aurelius counselled, "Let another pray, 'Save Thou my child,' but do
thou pray, 'Let me not fear to lose him.'"
Few of us are likely to attain this level; few, perhaps, aspire to do
so. Nevertheless, the training which falls short of producing complete
self-control may yet accomplish something in the way of fitting us,
by taking the edge off our worry, to react more comfortably to our
surroundings, thus not only rendering us more desirable companions, but
contributing directly to our own health and happiness.
Under the ills produced by faulty mental tendencies I do not include cancer
and the like. This inclusion seems to me as subversive of the laws of
nature as the cure of such disease by mental treatment would be miraculous.
At the same time, serious disorders surely result from faulty mental
tendencies.
In this category we must include, for example, hypochondria, a disturbance
shown by undue anxiety concerning one's own physical and mental condition.
This disorder, with the allied fears resulting from the urgent desire to
be always absolutely safe, absolutely well, and absolutely comfortable, is
capable, in extreme cases, of so narrowing the circle of pleasure and of
usefulness that the sufferer might almost as well have organic disease.
Neurasthenia (nervous prostration) has for its immediate exciting cause
some overwork or stress of circumstance, but the sufferer not infrequently
was already so far handicapped by regrets for the past, doubts for the
present, and anxieties for the future, by attention to minute details
and by unwillingness to delegate responsibilities to others, that he was
exhausted by his own mental travail before commencing upon the overwork
which precipitated his breakdown. In such cases the occasion of the
collapse may have been his work, but the underlying cause was deeper. Many
neurasthenics who think they are "all run down" are really "all wound up."
They carry their stress with them.
Among the serious results of faulty mental habit must be included also
the doubting folly (_folie du doute_). The victim of this disorder is so
querulously anxious to make no mistake that he is forever returning to see
if he has turned out the gas, locked the door, and the like; in extreme
cases he finally doubts the actuality of his own sensations, and so far
succumbs to chronic indecision as seriously to handicap his efforts. This
condition has been aptly termed a "spasm of the attention."
The apprehensive and fretful may show, in varying degree, signs of either
or all these conditions, according as circumstances may direct their
attention.
Passing from serious disorders to minor sources of daily discomfort, there
are few individuals so mentally gifted that they are impervious to the
distress occasioned by variations of temperature and of weather; to the
annoyance caused by criticism, neglect, and lack of appreciation on the
part of their associates; to active resentment, even anger, upon moderate
provocation; to loss of temper when exhausted; to embarrassment in unusual
situations; to chronic indecision; to the sleeplessness resulting from
mental preoccupation; and above all, to the futile regrets, the querulous
doubts, and the undue anxiety included under the term _worry_, designated
by a recent author "the disease of the age."
Something may be accomplished in the way of lessening all these ills by
continuous, properly directed effort on the part of the individual. Every
inroad upon one faulty habit strengthens the attack upon all, and each gain
means a step toward the acquisition of a mental poise that shall give its
possessor comparative immunity from the petty annoyances of daily life.
In modern psycho-therapy the _suggestion_, whether on the part of the
physician or of the patient, plays a prominent part, and it is in this
direction, aside from the advice regarding occupation and relaxation, that
my propositions will trend. I shall not include, however, suggestions
depending for their efficacy upon self-deceit, such as might spring, for
example, from the proposition that if we think there is a fire in the stove
it warms us, or that if we break a pane in the bookcase thinking it
a window, we inhale with pleasure the resulting change of air. The
suggestions are intended to appeal to the reason, rather than to the
imagination.
The special aim will be to pay attention to the different varieties of
worry, and to offer easily understood and commonplace suggestions which any
one may practice daily and continuously, at last automatically, without
interfering with his routine work or recreation. Indeed the tranquil mind
aids, rather than hinders, efficient work, by enabling its possessor to
pass from duty to duty without the hindrance of undue solicitude.
In advising the constitutional worrier the chief trouble the physician
finds is an active opposition on the part of the patient. Instead of
accepting another's estimate of his condition, and another's suggestions
for its relief, he comes with a preconceived notion of his own
difficulties, and with an insistent demand for their instant relief by drug
or otherwise. He uses up his mental energy, and loses his temper, in the
effort to convince his physician that he is _not_ argumentative. In a less
unreasonable, but equally difficult class, come those who recognize the
likeness in the portrait painted by the consultant, but who say they have
tried everything he suggests, but simply "can't."
It is my hope that some of the argumentative class may recognize, in my
description, their own case instead of their neighbor's, and may of their
own initiative adopt some of the suggestions; moreover, that some of the
acquiescent, but despairing class will renew their efforts in a different
spirit. The aim is, not to accomplish a complete and sudden cure, but to
gain something every day, or if losing a little to-day, to gain a little
to-morrow, and ultimately to find one's self on a somewhat higher plane,
without discouragement though not completely freed from the trammels
entailed by faulty mental habit.
II.
EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER
'Tis to believe what men inspired of old, Faithful, and faithfully
informed, unfold.
_Cowper_.
The suggestions offered in the following pages are not new. Many of them
were voiced by Epicurus three hundred years before Christ, and even then
were ancient history. Unfortunately Epicurus had his detractors. One,
Timocrates, in particular, a renegade from his school, spread malicious and
unfounded reports of his doings and sayings, reports too easily credited
then, and starting, perhaps, the misconception which to-day prevails
regarding the aims of this philosopher.
But when Marcus Aurelius, nearly five centuries later, decided to endow a
philosophical professoriate he established the Epicurean as one of the four
standard schools. The endorsement of such a one should surely predispose
us to believe the authentic commentators of Epicurus, and to discredit the
popular notion which makes his cult synonymous with the gratification of
the appetites, instead of with the mental tranquility to which he regarded
sensual pleasures so detrimental that he practically limited his diet, and
that of his disciples, to bread and water.
It is of special encouragement to such of us as painfully realize our
meagre equipment for reaching a high plane of self-control, to learn that
Epicurus was by nature delicate and sensitive. At seven years of age, we
are told, he could not support himself on tiptoe, and called himself the
feeblest of boys. It is said that in his boyhood he had to be lifted from
his chair, that he could not look on the sun or a fire, and that his skin
was so tender as to prevent his wearing any dress beyond a simple tunic.
These physical characteristics suggest the makings of a first class "fuss"
and inveterate worrier. In this event his emancipation from such tendencies
must have been due to the practice of his own philosophy.
As an antidote for the fear of death and the miraculous in the heavens
Epicurus urges the study of Nature, showing his appreciation of the fact
that one thought can only be driven out by another, as well as of the
importance of the open air treatment of depressing fears.
That he recognized the doubting folly and its evils is shown by the
following Maxim for the Wise man:
"He shall be steady in his opinion and not wavering and doubtful in
everything."
To the hypochondriac he said:
"Health in the opinion of some is a precious thing; others rank it among
the indifferent." Again:
"If the body be attacked by a violent pain the evil soon has an end; if, on
the contrary, the pain be languishing and of long duration it is sensible
beyond all doubt of some pleasure therefrom. Thus, most chronical
distempers have intervals that afford us more satisfaction and ease than
the distempers we labor under cause pain." And further:
"The Wise man takes care to preserve the unequivocable blessing of an
undisturbed and quiet mind even amidst the groans and complaints which
excess of pain extorts from him." He states, again, that one can be happy
though blind.
Regarding insomnia, he recognized the futility of expecting restful sleep
to follow a day of fret and worry. He says:
"He shall enjoy the same tranquility in his sleep as when awake."
Epicurus realized that the apparent inability of the old to acquire
new habits is due rather to lack of attention, and to indifference or
preoccupation, than to lack of aptitude. He placed, in fact, no limit to
the age for learning new methods, stating in his letter to Meneceus,--
"Youth is no obstacle to the study of philosophy--neither ought we to be
ashamed to concentrate our later years to the labor of speculation. Man has
no time limit for learning, and ought never to want strength to cure his
mind of all the evils that afflict it."
Epicurus does not counsel seclusion for the cultivation of tranquility, but
holds that mental equipoise "may be maintained though one mingles with the
world, provided he keeps within the bounds of temperance, and limits his
desires to what is easily obtained."
Curiously enough, in view of the idea of epicureanism which has become
proverbial, Epicurus regards the avoidance of excess a logical and
necessary step toward the tranquil life, and among other admonitions is
found the following Maxim:
"The Wise man ought never to drink to excess, neither must he spend the
nights revelling and feasting."
We may conclude our selection from the Maxims of Epicurus by one which
strikes a body-blow at worry and the allied faulty mental habits:
"That being who is happy and immortal is in no way solicitous or uneasy on
any account, neither does he torment or tease others; anger is unworthy of
his greatness ... for all these things are the property of weakness."
Such then, was the real Epicurus, not a seeker after effeminate luxury, but
a chaste and frugal philosopher, serene of mien, and of gentle disposition,
firm in his friendships, but sacrificing to them none of the high ideals
which characterized his thought. He erred, doubtless, in the avoidance of
responsibilities and in narrowing his efforts to promoting the happiness
of his own immediate circle, but he was fearless in the defence of his
principles and steadfast in the pursuit of the tranquility which for him
included truth.
III.
MARCUS AURELIUS
Such a body of teachers distinguished by their acquirements and character
will hardly be collected again; and as to the pupil, we have not had
another like him since.
_Long_.
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, the philosopher-Emperor, showed by practice as
well as by precept that the tranquil mind is not incompatible with a life
of action. Destined from birth to stand at the head of a great empire
engaged in distant wars, threatened by barbaric invasion, and not without
internal dissention, he was prepared not only to command armies but to
govern himself. Fortunately we are not without a clue to his methods--he
not only had the best of teachers, but continued his training all through
his life. When we consider his labors, the claim of the busy man of to-day
that he has "no time" seems almost frivolous.
The thoughts of Marcus Aurelius (of which the following citations are
from Long's translation) were written, not for self exploration, nor from
delight in rounded periods, but for his own guidance. That he was in fact
guided by his principles no better illustration offers than his magnanimity
toward the adherents of one who would have usurped the throne of the
Caesars. The observation of Long that fine thoughts and moral dissertations
from men who have not worked and suffered may be read, but will be
forgotten, seems to have been exemplified in the comparative oblivion into
which the philosophy of Epicurus has fallen.
It is with the ethical side of the philosophy of Marcus Aurelius that we
are concerned, and with that portion only which bears on the question of
mental equipoise.
"Begin the morning," he says, "by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the
busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these
things happen to them by reason of their ignorance of what is good and
evil."
With regard to the habit of seclusion common among the self-conscious, he
says:
"If thou didst ever see a hand cut off, or a foot, or a head, lying
anywhere apart from the rest of the body, such does a man make himself, as
far as he can, who is not content with what happens, and separates himself
from others, or does any thing unsocial. Suppose that thou hast detached
thyself from the natural unity--for thou wast made by nature a part, but
now thou hast cut thyself off--yet here there is this beautiful provision,
that it is in thy power again to unite thyself. God has allowed this to no
other part, after it has been separated and cut asunder, to come together
again. But consider the kindness by which he has distinguished man, for he
has put it in his power not to be separated at all from the universal; and
when he has been separated, he has allowed him to return and to resume his
place as a part."
On the futile foreboding which plays so large a part in the tribulation of
the worrier, he says:
"Do not disturb thyself by thinking of the whole of thy life. Let not thy
thoughts at once embrace all the various troubles which thou mayest expect
to befall thee; but on every occasion ask thyself, What is there in this
which is intolerable and past bearing? for thou wilt be ashamed to confess.
In the next place remember that neither the future nor the past pains thee,
but only the present. But this is reduced to a very little, if thou only
circumscribest it, and chidest thy mind, if it is unable to hold out
against even this." Again: "Let not future things disturb thee, for thou
wilt come to them, if it shall be necessary, having with thee the same
reason which now thou usest for present things."
On the dismissal of useless fret, and concentration upon the work in hand,
he says:
"Labor not as one who is wretched, nor yet as one who would be pitied or
admired; but direct thy will to one thing only, to put thyself in motion
and to check thyself, as the social reason requires."
Regarding senseless fears he counsels:
"What need is there of suspicious fear, since it is in thy power to inquire
what ought to be done? And if thou seest clear, go by this way content,
without turning back: but if thou dost not see clear, stop and take the
best advisers. But if any other things oppose thee, go on according to thy
powers with due consideration, keeping to that which appears to be just.
For it is best to reach this object, and if thou dost fail, let thy failure
be in attempting this. He who follows reason in all things is both tranquil
and active at the same time, and also cheerful and collected."
On irritation at the conduct of others:
"When thou art offended with any man's shameless conduct, immediately ask
thyself, Is it possible, then, that shameless men should not be in the
world? It is not possible. Do not, then, require what is impossible. For
this man also is one of those shameless men who must of necessity be in the
world. Let the same considerations be present in thy mind in the case of
the knave and the faithless man, and of every man who does wrong in any
way."
Regarding the hypochondriacal tendency he reverts to Epicurus, thus:
"Epicurus says, In my sickness my conversation was not about my bodily
sufferings, nor did I talk on such subjects to those who visited me; but I
continued to discourse on the nature of things as before, keeping to this
main point, how the mind, while participating in such movements as go on in
the poor flesh, shall be free from perturbations and maintain its proper
good.... Do, then, the same that he did both in sickness, if thou art sick,
and in any other circumstances;... but to be intent only on that which thou
art now doing and on the instrument by which thou doest it."
These quotations will serve to show the trend of the reflections of this
remarkable man. After reviewing this epitome of ethical philosophy I might
stop and counsel the worrier to study the thoughts of Marcus Aurelius
and other philosophers, whose practical suggestions are similar,
notwithstanding their diversity of views regarding the ultimate object of
the training. I shall venture, however, to elaborate the subject from the
present view-point, even though the principles of Marcus Aurelius are as
applicable now as they were in the days of the Roman Empire.
No reminder is needed of the wealth and efficacy of suggestion in the Book
which contains the statement that "the Kingdom of God is within you," and
that "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine; but a broken spirit drieth
the bones." One of its suggestions was paralleled by the philosopher-poet
when he wrote:
"Latius regnes avidum domando
Spiritum, quam si Libyam remotis
Gadibus iungas et uterque Poenus
Serviat uni."
IV.
ANALYSIS OF WORRY
Of these points the principal and most urgent is that which reaches the
passions; for passion is produced no otherwise than by a disappointment
of one's desires and an incurring of one's aversions. It is this which
introduces perturbations, tumults, misfortunes, and calamities; this is
the spring of sorrow, lamentation and envy; this renders us envious and
emulous, and incapable of hearing reason.
_Epictetus_.
Under this rather pretentious title an attempt is made to indicate certain
elements of worry. No claim is made that the treatment of the subject is
exhaustive.
The motto "Don't Worry" has inspired many homilies. But the mere resolve to
follow this guide to happiness will no more instantaneously free one from
the meshes of worry than the resolve to perform a difficult gymnastic feat
will insure its immediate accomplishment.
The evils of worry as well as of its frequent associate, anger, have been
dwelt upon by writers philosophical, religious, and medical. "Worry," says
one author, "is the root of all cowardly passions,--jealousy, fear, the
belittling of self, and all the introspective forms of depression are the
children of worry." The symptoms and the evil results seem to receive
more elaborate and detailed attention than the treatment. "Eliminate it,"
counsels this writer; "Don't worry," advises another. "Such advice is
superficial," says their critic, "it can only be subdued by our ascending
into a higher atmosphere, where we are able to look down and comprehend the
just proportions of life." "Cultivate a quiet and peaceful frame of mind,"
urges another; and still another advises us to "occupy the mind with better
things, and the best--is a habit of confidence and repose."
From such counsel the average individual succeeds in extracting nothing
tangible. The last writer of those I have quoted comes perhaps the nearest
to something definite in directing us to occupy the mind with better
things; in the suggestions I have to offer the important feature is the
effort to replace one thought by another, though not necessarily by a
better one. If we succeed in doing this, we are making a step toward
acquiring the habit of confidence and repose.
The simple admonition not to worry is like advising one not to walk
awkwardly who has never learned to walk otherwise. If we can find some of
the simpler elements out of which worry is constructed, and can learn to
direct our attack against these, the proposition "Don't worry" will begin
to assume a tangible form.
We can at least go back one step, and realize that it is by way of the
_unduly insistent thought_ that most of these faulty mental habits become
established. It might be claimed that fear deserves first mention, but the
insistent thought in a way includes fear, and in many cases is independent
of it.
The insistent thought magnifies by concentration of attention, and by
repetition, the origin of the worry. If my thoughts dwell on my desire for
an automobile this subject finally excludes all others, and the automobile
becomes, for the time being, the most important thing in the world, hence I
worry. Into this worry comes no suggestion of fear--this emotion would be
more appropriate, perhaps, if I acquired the automobile and attempted
to run it. If, now, I have trained myself to concentrate my attention
elsewhere before such thoughts become coercive, the automobile quickly
assumes its proper relation to other things, and there is no occasion for
worry. This habit of mind once acquired regarding the unessentials of life,
it is remarkable how quickly it adapts itself to really important matters.
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