The Five Dances of Anxiety


Reader,

Over golden lattes and biscuits glossed with tart apple butter, my dear friend and I named our “terrifying thought of the day.”

We spoke them into the quiet café, setting them down like heavy bags at our feet.

We noticed what was loosening the grip—the small intentions we were tending to, like embers in the dark: tucking our phones away in another room, stirring sauce until it thickens, shaping felted stones with our hands, dreaming up new gardens and inked talismans.

And we reminded each other—uncertainty isn’t new. It’s always been there for those of us living beyond the edges of the mythical norm.

If you’re feeling stretched thin, overwhelmed, or caught in patterns you can’t quite name, here’s what I want you to remember:

Anxiety has its own choreography.

And like any well-practiced dance, its steps become second nature—so ingrained we hardly notice when we’re moving to its rhythm.

One of my go-to sources of wisdom on fear is Dr. Harriet Lerner.

She taught me to see anxiety not as a personal failing, but as something shaped within systems—family systems, workplace systems, entire cultural systems.

So before I name the five dances of anxiety, let’s agree: these aren’t flaws.

They’re the ways we’ve learned to seek steadiness when things feel unsteady.

The Five Dances of Anxiety:

🌸 Overfunctioning—Taking charge, micromanaging, over-giving, filling every gap with your own labor.

🌸 Underfunctioning—Retreating, doubting yourself, feeling forgetful or incapable, avoiding decisions.

🌸 Blaming—Fixating on someone else’s role in the problem, underfocusing on your own agency and creativity.

🌸 Distancing—Withdrawing physically or emotionally, silencing yourself, vanishing into your own thoughts.

🌸 Gossiping—Circling the issue in conversation, talking about someone instead of talking to them.

See yourself anywhere in this list? No judgment—just noticing.

These patterns aren’t weaknesses. They are adaptations.

They live in our bodies, our relationships, the world around us.

And like any dance, they can be rewritten.

As a coach, I know this: naming what is creates space. A pause. A breath between movements.

So I’ll be back Sunday with ways to shift these patterns—gently, in your own way, in your own time.

Until then, I’d love to hear: which of these dances feels most familiar to you? Press reply and let me know.

To your second bite,

Brooke

P.S. Have you listened to the world's most relaxing song yet?

P.S.S. Marcella Hazan's Bolognese Sauce

Brooke Hofsess Coaching

680 W. King Street P.O. Box 585, Boone, NC 28607
Unsubscribe · Preferences

🍒 My coaching practice thrives on word of mouth and referrals. Most of the women I support are introduced to my work by a trusted friend, sister, neighbor, or colleague. If you know someone who would be inspired by this newsletter, please share it!

The Second Bite

Midlife isn’t a crisis—it’s a wild, holy becoming. This is your invitation to experience midlife as it was meant to be: sweet, curious, delicious.

Read more from The Second Bite

Support for women ripening into their second bite of life. Hi Reader, Have you seen the betrayal list trend floating around? People naming all the ways life betrays them — the “urgent” email that lands at 4:59 p.m.,the day off that fills with chores,the moment you finally sit down… and someone hollers your name. It’s funny — but something about it catches in my chest. Because underneath the chuckles, I feel a deeper wish: a collective longing to name what’s hurting,to stop pretending we’re...

Support for women ripening into their second bite of life. Hi Reader, One of the sweetest (and most humbling) parts of parenting a tween is remembering what it’s like to be uncensored. To lean into being the most annoying version of yourself, just for laughs.To shout, “Watch this! Watch this! ARE YOU WATCHING THIS?” as you throw your weight into another handstand.To fall in love with a song and play it loud — over and over. Watching my daughter live unfiltered reminds me how far many of us...

Support for women ripening into their second bite of life. Dear Reader, This week, I found myself at my sewing table, seam ripper in hand. Hearing the satisfying pop, I paused mid-stitch as a quiet curiosity whispered: Was this experimentation, or perfection? My latest creative project -- making new yardage from old fabrics laying around the house. The moment felt oddly familiar—like being that little girl again, pressing too hard on the crayon, slipping past the line, heat rising as I wanted...