I have a brain that likes to prepare for disaster.
Give it one small uncertainty and it can turn it into a full-length feature film complete with a tragic ending, several sequels, and possibly a spin-off series.
For a long time, I thought the solution to catastrophic thinking was to convince myself that the thing I was worried about wasn’t going to happen.
“Everything will be fine.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s probably not going to happen.”
“You’re worrying for nothing.”
The problem is, my brain doesn’t find any of those statements particularly persuasive. Because sometimes bad things do happen. If I know something is possible, telling myself not to worry about it doesn’t necessarily make the worry go away.
Recently, though, I started doing something that works much better for me.
Instead of asking:
“What if this happens?”
I ask:
“If it does happen, what exactly am I going to do?”
And then I make a plan.
My Brain Doesn’t Need a Guarantee. It Needs a Program.
I’ve realized that when my brain keeps presenting me with the same worry, it’s often looking for resolution.
So now I give it one.
If A happens, I’ll do B.
If B doesn’t work, I’ll do C.
If I need help, I already know who I’ll call.
If I need to cancel something, I’ll cancel it.
If I need to leave, I’ll leave.
If there’s a specific action I can take, I decide what that action will be.
Once I’ve created a reasonable response to the situation, I mentally save the program.
Then I tell myself:
I don’t need to run this program unless the event actually happens.
That’s the part that has been surprisingly powerful for me.
I’m not pretending the feared outcome is impossible. I’m telling my brain, “We’ve already figured out what to do. You don’t need to keep solving this.”
And then I can put the worry down.
Turning “What If?” Into “Then I Will”
Let’s say I’m worried my flight might get canceled.
Instead of repeatedly thinking, “What if my flight gets canceled?” I decide:
Then I’ll check the airline app, find the next available flight, contact the airline if necessary, and get a hotel if I’m stuck overnight.
Program written.
What if someone gets angry when I tell them no?
Then I’ll let them be angry. I won’t change my decision just to make the discomfort go away. If the conversation becomes abusive, I’ll end it.
Program written.
What if an unexpected expense turns out to be $5,000?
Then I’ll decide where the money will come from and what I’ll temporarily cut back on.
Program written.
Once I know what I’ll do, I don’t need to keep thinking about it.
And if the feared thing never happens, I never have to run the program.
Catastrophic Thinking Ends the Story Too Soon
I’ve noticed that catastrophic thinking tends to end the story at the catastrophe.
“What if I get injured or sick and can’t work anymore?”
And that’s where the mental movie ends.
Except that wouldn’t actually be the end.
I’d be upset. Then I’d rework my daily or weekly plan to accommodate the illness or injury.
I’d get help from family during the acute phase. I’d hire someone to help me if my family wasn’t available.
Then I’d look at my finances. I’d cut unnecessary expenses. I’d update my budget.
Suddenly, “What if I can’t work?” becomes a sequence of actions.
The situation might still be difficult, but I’m no longer helpless inside it.
That’s an important distinction.
There’s Psychology Behind This
What I’m describing is actually pretty consistent with some of the prevailing advice for dealing with catastrophizing.
Catastrophizing is considered a cognitive distortion where we overestimate the likelihood or consequences of something bad happening. Cognitive behavioral approaches often encourage people to examine the evidence, consider more realistic outcomes, and think about how they would cope if the feared event actually occurred.
There’s even a technique called decatastrophizing, which involves asking questions like:
How likely is this to happen?
What’s the most likely outcome?
If the worst outcome did happen, what could I do about it?
That last question is the one that seems to work especially well for me.
I don’t necessarily need to convince myself that something won’t happen.
I need to know that I can handle it if it does.
Planning Isn’t the Same as Worrying
There is one potential trap here.
I don’t want to start creating elaborate emergency plans for every terrible thing my imagination can invent. That would just be catastrophic thinking wearing a clever disguise.
So I try to separate reasonable concerns from anxiety-generated possibilities.
If my brain says, “What if the washing machine finally dies?” that’s plausible. I can decide what I’ll do.
If my brain says, “What if the washing machine dies, floods the house, destroys the electrical system, causes the roof to collapse, and somehow leaves me homeless?” I’m probably not going to write a twelve-page response protocol.
At some point, I’ve wandered out of planning and into storytelling.
The goal isn’t to eliminate uncertainty. It’s to have a reasonable plan for something I’m genuinely concerned about and then stop rehearsing it.
Put the Program on the Shelf
This has helped me understand something important about worry.
I used to confuse worrying with preparing.
They’re not the same thing.
Worry says:
“What if this happens? What if this happens? What if this happens?”
Preparation says:
“If this happens, here’s what I’ll do.”
And preparation has an endpoint.
That’s what I’m trying to give myself now.
I think about the thing I’m worried about. I decide what I will realistically do if it happens. I mentally save that program and put it on the shelf.
If the trigger occurs, I’ll run it.
Until then, I don’t need to emotionally experience something that hasn’t happened.
I’m learning that feeling safe doesn’t necessarily mean believing nothing bad will ever happen.
Sometimes feeling safe means knowing:
If something happens, I’ll know what to do.
