My Brain Is Incredible at Imagining Worst-Case Scenarios

My brain is very talented.

Not at remembering where I put my phone.
Not at recalling names.

But at imagining worst-case scenarios?

Elite level.

Give it one neutral detail and it will build a full disaster narrative before I’ve finished my coffee.

A short email?
Obviously something is wrong.

A delayed reply?
We’re doomed. Everyone is mad. This is the end.

A random ache?
I’m already emotionally preparing my family for the news.

What’s wild is how confident these thoughts sound.

They don’t present as guesses.
They arrive like facts.

Fully formed.
Urgent.
Slightly smug.

And for a long time, I treated them like important warnings — like my brain was doing me a favor by thinking ten steps ahead.

I assumed this was responsibility.
Preparedness.
Maturity.

It never occurred to me that my brain might just be… anxious.

Not dramatic anxiety.
Not panic.
Just a quiet, efficient habit of scanning for danger and filling in blanks with the scariest possible option.

Honestly, it kind of makes sense.

My brain learned early that being caught off guard hurts.
So now it tries to prevent surprise by rehearsing every possible outcome — preferably the worst one, because at least then we’re prepared.

It’s not trying to ruin my day.
It’s trying to protect me.

It just has terrible taste in strategies.

The shift for me wasn’t learning how to stop these thoughts.
That felt impossible anyway.

The shift was realizing I didn’t have to agree with them.

A thought could show up without me treating it like a prophecy.
A scary scenario could play out in my head without me emotionally packing for it.
A “what if” could exist without becoming a “this will.”

I stopped asking, is this true?
And started asking, is this just my brain doing its thing?

That one question changed the temperature pretty fast.

Because once I noticed the pattern, it lost some of its authority.
Not all of it — but enough.

Now, when my brain launches into a full emergency briefing over something minor, I don’t argue.
I don’t correct it.
I don’t try to calm it down.

I just think, oh. You again.

Sometimes I even let it finish.
Like letting a dramatic friend get it out of their system.

And then… I don’t follow it.

The thought still exists.
The feeling still flickers.

But it doesn’t get the keys.

Turns out, not every scary thought is a warning.
Some are just habits.
Some are leftovers.
Some are your brain trying to keep you safe in a world that feels louder than it used to.

And you don’t have to fire your brain.
You don’t have to fix it.
You don’t have to make it stop.

You just don’t have to believe everything it says.

Some days, that’s enough to take the edge off.

Not because the thoughts disappear —
but because they’re not the ones in charge anymore.