Should We Fight Anxiety? Or Embrace It?

“I still have that voice saying, ‘You should not be here. You are not good enough.’”

One of Canada’s most prolific writers, David A. Robertson is the prize-winning author of more than 30 books, across multiple genres: graphic novels, picture books, young adult and middle grade fiction, two novels and two deeply personal memoirs.

He’s won not one but two Governor General’s Literary Awards and the Writers’ Union of Canada Freedom to Read Award, and has been honoured with a doctor of letters by the University of Manitoba for his outstanding contributions to the arts. It’s remarkable, then, to read Robertson’s new book, All the Little Monsters: How I Learned to Live with Anxiety, and learn about his struggles with impostor syndrome.

Asked if he’s ever imagined a prize or external validation that might come along and change his mind by finally convincing him that he is in fact good enough, Robertson said no. And that he hopes it never comes.

“I don't want to get there,” he told the Tyee. “If I'm trying my hardest to be the best, then at the very least, I'll be the best that I can be, and I'll put out the work that is the best that I can do. So I don't think that I'll ever feel like I've arrived. I don't think that I'll ever feel that I'm worthy of winning two GGs, which I think is just luck. But if I ever do, I just ask you to come and slap me in the face, because I just don't want to think that of myself.”

This is consistent with the messaging in All the Little Monsters, released last month by HarperCollins Canada: rather than fighting these demons, there’s value in learning to live with them, listen and even love them as part of oneself.

“I think part of what has helped me in the development of this book and in living with this mental health struggle,” Robertson said, sitting down with The Tyee to talk about courage, self-love and what he hopes readers will glean from his book: “The discernment of being able to see when my anxiety is being destructive and when it's actually trying to help.”

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The Tyee: Right away, how are you doing? When I was promoting my last book, Jenny Heijun Wills warned me to take care of myself, to make space to recharge after promo events. She said: Every question is like a little paper cut. In the end, it all adds up. I have to imagine that that's especially true when every conversation is about your mental health.

David A. Robertson: I definitely have had moments in the last couple of weeks where I felt drained. I've put everything into the book because I believe so much in it. But I think there's the other side that really is, for me, a bit of medicine. It's funny, because I wrote this book to help other people, but it's also helped me in developing more tools in my own tool box. So I think it does take a lot out of you, but it also puts a lot in.

Yeah, I guess there’s a group therapy aspect to it. You have that line about how you think that nobody can understand what you're feeling, so it's lonely. But now you have this space that you've created to share and to get feedback and maybe feel less alone. I have to imagine it's really cathartic, at times.

It's very cathartic. Almost every talk I give, if not every talk I give, on All the Little Monsters, whether it's a radio interview, TV interview, a launch or a school visit, I always have somebody coming up to me after, emailing me and just letting me know what they're going through.

That's what I think the real power of this book is, too. It gives people the ability and the encouragement to just be heard. There’s a book I’ve been reading a lot lately: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. One of the characters is asked: “What is the bravest thing you've ever said?” And the horse says: “Help.” I think that's what this book is really all about, at its core.

In All the Little Monsters, you return to the question: “What if everything will be OK?” It struck me as different than my question: “What if, actually, nothing happens?” Like, can I just ignore this? I deal with a lot of anxiety myself. Sometimes I sit up and suddenly think: “Oh no!” For no reason. My anxiety just sort of bursts through the door and delivers its catchphrase. So I’ve started responding: “Oh please.” That’s my usual method. Just try not to care.

So what we're doing, both of us, is synonymous, really. You're saying to your anxiety one thing: “What if this is nothing?” And I'm saying to it: “What if I'm going to be OK?” But it's doing the same thing. When we do that, we're kind of rewiring it a little bit. I like that we're able to become the driver of it.

You talk about scanning your body almost daily. But my coping mechanism has always been to completely disassociate from my body. Oh, am I dying? Then why brush my teeth? So I’m struck by your approach of engaging with the anxiety, rather than shutting down, like it might actually be helpful.

Because it's coming anyway, right? The more you fight against it, the harder it’s going to be for you. It's a lot easier to accept it, and then to work with it, staying in it for a minute and letting it have its moment, and then doing what you have to do to get out of it. I think that's a good relationship to have with it, rather than trying to just fight it off all the time.

Even though I knew better, there was a part of me that was hoping you’d just outline a cure by the end of this book, like the subtitle could have been “How I Definitively Defeated Anxiety for Good.” Instead, you give us this path to acceptance, and this release from the fight. That’s a big change to how I contend with... my little monster, I suppose.

Everyone has different words for it. It's not a literary book. I'm not trying to do anything fancy here. I'm just trying to use the language I know for this struggle.

You described it elsewhere as “a conversation more than it is literature.”

It's a conversation. I want people to feel as though I'm sitting with them and we're just talking. People have told me that it speaks their language. I think there is a language to anxiety, a language to mental health, that if you're someone who lives with it, you understand that language.

I think we all kind of have a language for our mental health journey, but until you hear somebody else using that language, you don't necessarily realize you have the words. When I heard you were writing a memoir about your mental health journey, I had this Tim Robinson moment of, like: “I don't know if you're allowed to do that.” I’ve always had this fear that people won't want to hear about that because they can't see it or won't believe me. I wonder how you overcame the anxiety that nobody wanted to hear about your anxiety.

Well, I didn't overcome anxiety. I know what you're asking. I think the first part of that I heard, which I want to respond to, is that I don't think personally there's a cure for anxiety. Maybe there is. I don't think personally there is, and I think sometimes the best thing that you can do with somebody, and yourself, is to give yourself grace. But I really appreciate you saying that about this book, because I feel like if it’s able to speak to someone's own internal model, monologue or language for this journey that we're all on, I think that’s really one of the main things I wanted to accomplish with it.

In the book, you share some strategies you picked up on TikTok. I've been thinking a lot about the kind of moment that mental health is having on social media. My algorithms are convinced that all I want is ADHD influencers, and there's so many of them all of a sudden. It's funny, because they spring up and they crush the space for like, three months, and then they disappear. Classic ADHD. It feels like there's finally a space to not just talk about this stuff, but to be open about how we're all dealing with it.

It did feel like the right time for it, because I do feel like we're living in an age of anxiety. My algorithm is the same. There's so many different interventions out there right now that you can find on TikTok, social media, that you can find in this book, that you can find with therapy, you can find any of these different places. The tools are there.

But you have to find the thing that works for you, whether it's medication, whether it's a mantra, like, I use the reiki principles, or whether it's exposure therapy, whether it's group therapy, whatever it might be. Hopefully this book, as well, is a guide to help anybody figure out what might work for them, to help live with what they're going through a little better and a little more productively, or help guide somebody else to something that might work for them.

I really like what you said about having an anchor. My wife has been that for me. In moments where I really can't calm myself down, I try to remind myself: “When this is over, you're just gonna go home to her. All this stuff you're worried about is a temporary thing. Every day ends the same way: You go home to your wife.” And I find that really comforting.

It's a safety net. It's an old mantra, but I think it is an important mantra, and it's relevant: This will pass. There's always going to be, at some point, a bit of a brighter day, and you have to give yourself the chance to see that. And so what I have to remind myself sometimes, because I still have suicidal thoughts pretty often, is that tomorrow might be better. But I won't know if it's going to be better unless I get to tomorrow. So why not just get there? And then you make it to tomorrow. Why not just make it another day, and just keep hanging on a little bit. Eventually things do pass, and it will get better. And maybe it'll get shitty again, but then that'll pass too.

I was really touched reading about your experience with suicidal ideation as well. Because for me, that was also a way to deal with the anxiety at my low point. Well, what if I die? “Good. I hope I do. And if I do die, then I won't have to deal with this feeling anymore.” But then you wind up thinking about a reason to carry on. For me, it was my family.

It's hanging on with whatever you can hold on to for a little bit. But eventually you'll find that you're hanging on because of yourself, because of you. And I think that's the shift that is important to make. Today, I need to be here because my kids need me, and I'm not going to leave them, or whatever it might be for you. And maybe it'll be that way tomorrow. But eventually.

This is a question that I was asked by a kid, and kids are the smartest. She asked: “If you could tell yourself in the past one thing, what would it be?” And I thought about that a long time, and I realized that I wouldn't tell myself anything. Because here's the thing: everything that you've been through, everything, all the hard things, the depressive thoughts, the anxiety, the panic, all the good things, all the great moments in your life, all of them, have made you who you are.

Every single second of your life has made you who you are. And if you take any of that away, you're not the same person that you are now. So you have to be grateful for and love who you are. You have to be grateful for everything that brought you to that point.

Anybody who's living with mental health, anxiety, depression, OCD, whatever it might be, and you're still here, and you're still making it to tomorrow, is strong and resilient. And you have to recognize that within yourself. You have to be grateful for the things that made you that strong and that resilient. And so I wouldn't tell myself anything if I go back in the past, because it's helped make me who I am. And I'm learning how to like that a little bit more every day. And I'm learning to, because of that, hang on because of me.

Because I like who I am. Because I want to be here. Eventually you get there.