A celebrated science and health reporter offers a wry, bracingly honest account of living with anxiety
A racing heart. Difficulty breathing. Overwhelming dread. Andrea Petersen was first diagnosed with an anxiety disorder at the age of twenty, but she later realized that she had been experiencing panic attacks since childhood. With time her symptoms multiplied. She agonized over every odd physical sensation. She developed fears of driving on highways, going to movie theaters, even licking envelopes. Although having a name for her condition was an enormous relief, it was only the beginning of a journey to understand and master it—one that took her from psychiatrists’ offices to yoga retreats to the Appalachian Trail.
Woven into Petersen’s personal story is a fascinating look at the biology of anxiety and the groundbreaking research that might point the way to new treatments. She compares psychoactive drugs to non-drug treatments, including biofeedback and exposure therapy. And she explores the role that genetics and the environment play in mental illness, visiting top neuroscientists and tracing her family history—from her grandmother, who, plagued by paranoia, once tried to burn down her own house, to her young daughter, in whom Petersen sees shades of herself.
Brave and empowering, this is essential reading for anyone who knows what it means to live on edge.
I’ve been reading a lot of fiction lately, and it’s been a little while since I’ve reviewed any psychology nonfiction. I was excited to read Andrea Petersen’s On Edge–it’s always so encouraging to hear success stories from people who have had similar battles with anxiety that I have had.
However, I was confused right away, because On Edge is supposed to be Andrea Petersen’s memoirs…and it is not that at all. But neither is it exactly an objective journalistic history of psychology.
On Edge smothers us with too much information. In an effort to explain her diagnosis, Petersen gives a complicated back story of mental illness, pulling the reader in too many directions all at once. We are with her grandmother in the institution, we are with Petersen in a mid-flight panic attack, and then we are deeply entrenched in an incredibly boring History of Psychology class. I couldn’t figure out what end was up!
I would love to read Andrea Petersen’s memoirs. And I would love to read a book written by Andrea Petersen giving me detailed information about anxiety and mental illness. But to try and combine the two, and still keep the history sections objective just were not happening. Maybe that wasn’t the point, but it sure made it hard on me to switch gears so often. She needs to pick one and stick with it. This was a DNF–I made it halfway and then just couldn’t keep going. That’s highly unusual for a book of this subject matter.
NetGalley and Crown provided this ARC for an unbiased review.