The Impact of Anxiety and the Neuroscience Behind It
In my work, I’m regularly reminded of the sheer intensity and weight anxiety can bring to a person’s life. It's not just a fleeting feeling of nervousness, it can become a dominant force, shaping thoughts, behaviours, relationships, and even physical health. Reflecting on this, I’ve come to understand how deeply rooted anxiety is in the brain's survival mechanisms, and how important it is to address both the psychological and physiological consequences of it.
Neuro scientifically, anxiety originates in the amygdala, the brain’s alarm system. When we perceive a threat, whether real or imagined, the amygdala activates the fight, flight, or freeze response. In short bursts, this is life-saving, but in chronic anxiety, this system is continuously triggered, even in the absence of danger. The body remains in a heightened state of alert, and this prolonged activation starts to have consequences.
Repeated activation of the stress response increases cortisol levels, which over time can damage the hippocampus, the part of the brain responsible for memory and learning. It also reduces the function of the prefrontal cortex, the brain’s rational, decision-making centre. This neurological shift explains why people with anxiety often find it difficult to focus, plan, or regulate their emotions.
What makes this so impactful is the way the brain learns from repetition. The more we operate from a place of fear and worry, the more those neural pathways are reinforced. The brain becomes more efficient at activating anxiety, even with smaller triggers. This is neuroplasticity at work, but in a way that traps people in patterns of reactivity and fear.
The long-term risks are sobering. Chronic anxiety has been linked to digestive issues, cardiovascular problems, weakened immunity, sleep disorders, and a higher risk of developing depression. It can reduce quality of life, limit personal and professional opportunities, and erode self-esteem. Perhaps even more concerning is how normalised these symptoms can become. People often internalise their anxiety as a character flaw, rather than recognising it as a brain and body trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to protect them.
As a therapist, it’s important for me to hold space for the real, lived experience of anxiety, while also helping clients understand what is happening within them on a neurological level. This knowledge can be empowering. It reinforces the idea that anxiety is not a sign of weakness, but a biological response that has become dysregulated over time.
Reflecting on this reminds me how critical it is to approach anxiety with both compassion and science. We must support people in ways that acknowledge the depth of what they’re feeling and help them work with their brain rather than against it.