 There’s a quiet assumption many of us carry through life: if I worry about something enough, maybe I can prevent it.
As a child, I had two deeply personal fears that felt larger than life. I was afraid of losing my sight, because my vision was already compromised due to myopia. And I was afraid of losing my mind, because I witnessed my grandmother's experience with dementia. Those fears followed me into adulthood like a radio I could not turn off. I can’t say for certainty whether those fears protected me or altered my future abilities. What I do know is the worries never fully left. And now, sadly, those fears have become real. My vision is still declining and I live with short-term memory challenges connected to Parkinson’s Disease. So what happens when the thing you’ve always feared actually happens? From a psychological standpoint, worry often masquerades as control. It gives us the feeling that we’re doing something to prepare, anticipate, and stay one step ahead of pain. There’s even a name for this tendency: catastrophic thinking (who knew), where the mind jumps to worst-case scenarios in an attempt to brace itself. It’s closely tied to what psychologists call the illusion of control. That is the belief that our thoughts can somehow influence outcomes that are largely outside our power. But here’s the truth as I see it: most of what we fear in life is out of our control. No amount of worrying as a child could have guaranteed perfect vision. No amount of mental effort could protect me from the possibility of getting Parkinson’s or slowly losing my ability to see life clearly even with the latest prescription glasses. Worry didn’t stop what was happening in my body—it just cast a long shadow, making me relive those losses repeatedly in my mind long before I ever had to face them in real life. How Much Fear Is Helpful As a child, we are taught that fear prevents us from harm. It can also limit what we experience in the world. Sometimes, it sharpens awareness. It can make us more attentive, more compassionate, even more prepared in practical ways. My early fear of memory loss, for example, may have made me more attuned to the importance of mental health, connection, and storytelling. The experiences that now influence and guide my work. But there’s a difference between awareness and preoccupation. Awareness says: “This matters. Pay attention.” Preoccupation says: “This will happen. Stay afraid.” Only one of those actually supports a meaningful life. Living After the Fear When your worst fear becomes part of your reality, something unexpected can happen. The fear loses some of its power. Not because the situation becomes easier, but because something shifts in how you see it. Living with uncertainty in your body or mind is deeply challenging. There are moments of frustration, grief, even anger. But there’s also clarity. Because once you’re here, in the place you once feared, you realize something important: You are still here and still capable of connection, purpose, and even joy. While I may not have chosen to live with my worst fears, the reality is way less scary than those worst-case scenarios that I had imagined for years. What Can We Control? The hard truth is we can’t always control what happens to our bodies or the conditions we inherit or develop as we age. On the bright side, we can influence how we relate to our new reality. We can choose:
Psychology often points to the concept of psychological flexibility—the ability to adapt, to stay present, and to continue moving forward even when life doesn’t go as planned. That’s not about denying fear. It’s about not letting it run your life. If you’re reading this and carrying a fear that feels overwhelming, especially one that’s followed you for years, please reach out for help. Help is not a weakness, it is a strength. All too often, we place unnecessary pressure on ourselves to keep our stories hidden instead of letting others in. There is a quiet strength in facing what you once thought you couldn’t. To be honest, there are still days when my new reality sucks. It feels heavy, unfair, and I find myself questioning whether life is worth it. But even in those moments, I am reminded that even when our worst fears become reality, they cannot take away our spirit. If this resonates with you, I invite you to explore the Voices for Mental Health website for more stories, resources, and reminder that you are not alone. Comments are closed.
|
Photos from cambodia4kidsorg, wuestenigel, Ben Taylor55
