Since first watching the documentary “Anxiety Club,” I have written several articles inspired by both the film itself and the amazing conversations it has sparked. Directed and produced by Wendy Lobel, the film offers an honest and compassionate look at anxiety, reminding viewers how common, complex, and deeply human the experience is.
I also had the opportunity to attend the film’s launch event at New York’s legendary Comedy Cellar, where many of the featured comedians took the stage to share their insights and perspectives on living with anxiety. The documentary examines how anxiety impacts people’s lives, relationships, careers, and sense of self. As part of my ongoing series of interviews, I recently had the pleasure of speaking with comedian, writer, actor, and author Aparna Nancherla about her experiences living with anxiety.
“I Didn’t Call It Anxiety for a Long Time”
“I always was an anxious person,” Nancherla told me. “My mom always called me a worrier, but I didn’t call it anxiety for a long time.” As an adult, however, she was able to identify it as anxiety and became increasingly interested in understanding how it operated in her life, when it emerged, and how it influenced her thoughts and behaviors.
“My anxiety is on its own journey,” she explained, noting that its manifestation continues to change over time. Like many people who live with chronic anxiety, she has found that managing it often involves paying attention to basic practices that are easy to dismiss, such as getting enough sleep, staying hydrated, and eating well. “They sound so simple,” she said, “but they really do make a difference.”
She acknowledges that these habits can be difficult to sustain in a fast-paced culture where productivity is often prioritized above health. Being more intentional about daily choices has improved her ability to regulate her nervous system. She also states that therapy, mindfulness, and somatic practices have helped her identify recurring patterns and better understand how her mind responds to stress.
During our conversation, Nancherla described what she called an “anxious brain” as an inability to take things at face value, constantly anticipating what might happen next and thinking about all the things that can go wrong. “[My brain] is always thinking ten steps ahead,” she said, “and being very creative in imagining worst-case scenarios.”
This tendency to scan, gather information, analyze possibilities, and search for potential threats is at the foundation of anxiety. From an evolutionary perspective, this vigilance is protective and necessary for survival. As Nancherla noted, it comes down to the basic question: “Is that a stick or a snake?”
Finding the Funny Side of Anxiety
For Nancherla, anxiety and comedy overlap in interesting ways. The observational qualities that often accompany anxiety, she noted, can also fuel humor. Noticing details, nuances, contradictions, and social dynamics can provide rich material to work with. Comedy can emerge from taking those insights and presenting them in exaggerated, unexpected, and illuminating ways.
Nancherla’s path into comedy began in high school, where she discovered that she enjoyed making people laugh. “I didn’t know I was funny,” she recalled. “I would run cross-country and make little jokes and people would laugh.” Later, after she’d begun to recognize her own sense of humor and the satisfaction that came from sharing laughter with others, she discovered stand-up comedy through open mics and was surprised by how much she enjoyed performing. “I liked to perform, which was unexpected.”
But even though she enjoyed performing, it amplified her anxiety. She remembers intense stage fright, a racing heart, a tight throat, and, at times, feeling physically sick after performing. For Nancherla, comedy required learning how to manage anxiety onstage and off, which has been an ongoing practice.
Many people assume that stand-up comedy and social anxiety are mutually exclusive. Comedians who speak openly about their mental health are often asked how standing in front of a crowd and sharing deeply personal stories can coexist with their anxiety.
However, unlike a party or social gathering, where people must continuously monitor social cues and navigate unpredictable interactions, stand-up has a predictable formula, Nancherla said. “You talk and then you disappear—you don’t owe them anything.” The performer controls the material, the timing, and the duration is a pre-established amount of time.
She also described comedy as a tension many people experience: the desire to express oneself authentically while simultaneously seeking acceptance and validation from others. Sharing personal experiences with an audience can be an intensely vulnerable act, particularly when the material touches on insecurity, fear, or emotional pain.
Anxiety Under the Spotlight
Many of these themes found their way into her memoir, Unreliable Narrator. The book explores self-doubt, impostor syndrome, and the critical inner voice that can accompany success. Interestingly, she found that increased visibility often amplified these struggles. “The negative self-talk got worse as I got more traction and more exposure in my career.”
Writing the memoir gave her an opportunity to examine these experiences on a deeper level. In our conversation, she reflected on the ways that stand-up can require compressing observations into bite-sized bits. It’s also very structured, whereas a memoir allows for ambiguity. “The book can be messier—and stressful, because you can’t control what other people think of it.”
Writing honestly about her inner critic and exposing parts of herself that felt shameful or vulnerable was emotionally demanding. The experience was destabilizing at times yet ultimately rewarding. After publication, she found that distance helped her develop a better relationship with the work and gave her a sense of pride that was difficult to access while she was writing it. “I survived that,” she said, looking back.
Contemporary culture often treats pauses as failures and periods of reduced productivity as evidence that nothing meaningful is happening. There is ongoing pressure to create, achieve, and move on to the next project. Many artists become accustomed to the question: “So, what are you working on next?”
“It’s almost like you don’t exist as a creator if you’re not producing something all the time,” she said.
Anxiety often pulls attention toward what might happen next, making it difficult to stay in the present. Nancherla indicated that by bringing together comedians who speak openly about their fears, coping strategies, and vulnerabilities, “Anxiety Club” humanizes the experience of living with anxiety. One of the most moving aspects of participating in the documentary for her was seeing how anxiety shows up in other comedians’ lives and learning how they navigate it day by day. Ultimately, “Anxiety Club” reminds viewers that even our most persistent fears can become sources of insight, connection, and sometimes laughter.
