What to do when you worry too much

We've found a fantastic kid's book titled What To Do When You Worry Too Much. It gives kids a great cognitive tool to use to help control worries that spiral out of control, objectifying the worry into a pesty creature that you imagine forcing into a box and locking up away from the nourishment of your attention, so that it instead of growing, it starves until it's small enough to take out and look at when you're ready.

In just a couple of weeks, Rose has been able to reduce the impact of various anxieties and uncertainties, which is fantastic. It's not that the worries don't happen (ants! moths! germs! new experiences! unfamiliar procedures!), because the world is still full of worries; and it's not that the box metaphor gets used deliberately every time a worry arises. It seems that it's the very idea of knowing that you can objectify the worry and refuse to "feed" it that works. She has that much more control and ability to back off the escalation of anxiety and her reactions aren't as severe.

I've started using it myself; as a visual metaphor it's a bit more effective than the more verbal reasoning of adult cognitive therapy. ("Now, what's the worst that can actually happen?") And I need it - I've gone off my anxiety / depression meds, so I'm right back where I am, except better-rested.

Ironically, Rose came in while I was writing this, flipping out about the possibility that there might be a moth in the bathroom. "Don't feed that worry, " I said. She thought about this but still twisted her mouth up and jumped from foot to foot.

I tried another tack. "You're borrowing a worry - do you know what I mean? You don't see a moth in there, but you think there might be one and you don't know for sure, so you've gone down to the worry bank and asked the teller for a worry, since you're all out." That got a grin, and at least a change in breathing. "What could you do about it?"

"I could go use your bathroom," she said.

"If that works for you," I said.

"OK!"