Worries, What-Ifs, and Worst-Case Scenarios: How Excessive Worry Steals Our Peace (and What We Can Do About It)
I am an excessive worrier. There—I said it.
I worry about all the things—big, small, and everything in between. But honestly, most of the time, all my worries feel big. That email I forgot to send? Big. That strange noise my car made? Big. That one awkward thing I said three days ago in passing? Somehow… still big.
Ruminating thoughts tend to set up camp in my mind, taking up more space than I like to admit. And once they’re there, it doesn’t take long before they start spiraling into the familiar path of what-if’s and worst-case scenarios.
“What if something terrible happens?”
“What if I fail?”
“What if I can’t handle it?”
These thoughts don’t just stay thoughts. They morph into feelings and a general sense of unease that follows me like a shadow.
And so the cycle continues: worry → what-if → worst case → more worry. A loop that feels impossible to break.
Time Spent Worrying
Sometimes, I step back and ask myself: How much of my life am I spending just… worrying?
The answer isn’t always comfortable.
So, let’s take a moment to really look at what worry is.
What Is Worry, Really?
At its core, worry is our mind trying to protect us. It’s a form of mental problem-solving—trying to anticipate future threats so we can avoid them. It’s our brain’s way of saying, “Let me help you prepare.”
But for those of us who worry excessively, the intention gets lost in overdrive. The helpful signal becomes a blaring alarm, going off for situations that don’t deserve that kind of volume.
Let’s differentiate:
Worry – repetitive, future-focused thoughts about potential problems.
Anxiety – the emotional and physical reaction to those thoughts.
Rumination – going over the same thoughts again and again without resolution.
Sound familiar? Yep. Me too.
Why Worst-Case Thinking Feels So Real
Here’s the thing about worst-case scenarios: they often feel more believable than the best-case ones. Our minds are wired with a negativity bias—meaning we naturally pay more attention to what could go wrong than what could go right.
This might have been helpful in prehistoric times when avoiding danger was a matter of survival. But in modern life, that ancient alarm system can backfire—leaving us stuck in a constant state of hyper-vigilance.
And the kicker? Most of what we worry about never actually happens. But our bodies still respond as if they have.
How I’m Learning to Loosen Worry’s Grip
Slowly, and with practice, I’ve started to find small ways to interrupt the cycle:
Noticing the worry: Sometimes I literally say to myself, “This is worry. I see you.” Just naming it helps create distance.
Asking different questions: Instead of “what if the worst happens?” I try asking, “What if it doesn’t?” or “What if I could handle it either way?”
Grounding in the present: Worry is always future-focused. So coming back to the here and now—through breath, touch, or mindfulness—can be incredibly powerful.
Allowing uncertainty: This is the hardest one. But I’m learning that trying to control the future is like trying to hold water in my hands. It’s exhausting and impossible.
You’re Not Alone
If you’re someone who also spends more time worrying than you’d like, I want you to know this: you’re not alone. So many of us walk around carrying invisible burdens of anxiety, hidden behind smiles or “I’m fine”s.
Being honest about our inner world is the first step toward changing our relationship with it.
So here’s to less time spent spiraling, and more time spent living.
And maybe—just maybe—learning to let the “what-if’s” come and go without letting them run the whole show.
