I was watching Paradise—a show about a natural disaster and the environment—and by the time I finished binge-watching five episodes, I felt... off. The entire premise had me spiraling. The weight of global catastrophe sat heavy on my mind.
The next morning, I went for my usual run from York Ave to 5th Ave and back, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I couldn’t help but look at the people around me and think: Would they be the ones to survive if the world ended? Would I?
To make things worse, my playlist felt like it was working against me. Every song in my 170BPM mix seemed to push me deeper into anxiety. All That Really Matters. Heart Attack. These Words. Forever Young.
That last one was my breaking point.
Braving the Uncomfortable
I reached into my pocket, ready to skip the song, to shut down whatever was fueling this downward spiral. But then I saw my bracelet—Brave the uncomfortable.
And those three words stopped me.
The song wasn’t the problem. My anxiety was. The feelings I was experiencing were uncomfortable, but avoiding them wouldn’t make them go away. So I let Forever Young play. I sat with the discomfort. And now, when I listen to these songs, I realize—they weren’t sad songs. It was just my mood at the time that made them feel that way.
Why does anxiety do this?
That’s the thing about anxiety—it makes everything feel like a warning sign, like a bad omen. Every thought is amplified. Every feeling feels like an emergency. Suddenly, a song isn’t just a song; it’s a message. A thought isn’t just a thought; it’s a prediction. A feeling isn’t just a feeling; it’s proof that something terrible is coming.
I still catch myself spiraling over other uncertainties—like whether I should have recycled something or how much the weather has deviated from the norm.
Coming Back to the Present
For me, this is where mindfulness comes in. I remind myself that I don’t have to believe every thought that crosses my mind. That I can notice the thought, let it pass, and return to what’s in front of me.
No single action I take today will single-handedly determine the fate of the world. And while some of these thoughts are rooted in real concerns—yes, we should care about the environment, yes, we should be aware of what’s happening in the world—for those of us prone to spiraling, these thoughts can feel all-consuming.
So, I pause. I take a breath. I remind myself: Not every thought is a fact. Not every feeling is a warning.
Anxiety thrives in uncertainty, in the what-ifs. It twists the smallest possibility into catastrophe. But I’ve learned the best thing to do isn’t to fight the feeling—it’s to sit with it. To recognize it for what it is: just a feeling.
Because when I stop trying to control every thought, I can come back to the present moment.
So if Paradise, climate news, or existential fears have been weighing on you lately, I get it. You’re not alone. Just remember: your brain might tell you it’s a warning sign, but that doesn’t make it true.
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