I worry about a lot of things.
That’s what you do when you are an overthinker. You overanalyse conversations, replay words, imagine worst-case scenarios, blame yourself for things that haven’t even happened yet.
You know the drill.
There was a phase in my life where anxiety and self-criticism became the main themes of my days. I wanted to enjoy life, but my brain refused to let me. Instead of being present, I was constantly rehearsing problems that didn’t exist yet.
Looking back, I don’t think I was living.
I think I was surviving.
One memory from school days always comes back to me whenever I catch myself spiraling.
I was in Class 10. It was the evening before my History exam. The television was quietly playing in the background while my mom was ironing clothes. I was sitting on the bed with my textbook in my lap, convinced I was going to fail.
The funny thing was…
I had prepared well.
Really well.
But anxiety has a strange way of making preparation feel invisible.
I couldn’t remember a single answer. Tears had already started filling my eyes as I told my mom that I was definitely going to fail. I even warned her beforehand, just in case.
She walked over, took the book out of my hands, closed it, and said something I still remember today.
“I have seen you prepare for this exam. Your mind isn’t blank because you don’t know anything. It’s blank because you are worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.”
Then she smiled and said,
“Go watch your favourite TV show. Relax. Sleep well. Tomorrow, all you have to do is give your best.”
That was it.
No motivational speech.
No lecture.
Just one simple reminder.
Looking back, I realised that conversation wasn’t only about an exam.
It has quietly become an ongoing lesson throughout my life.
Even today, whenever something feels uncertain, my mind automatically separates it into two categories.
Things I can’t control.
For those, all I can really do is pray, hope, and trust that tomorrow will take care of itself.
And then there are…
Things I can control.
For those, the answer is simple.
Try.
Maybe it works.
Maybe it doesn’t.
But at least I know I gave it everything I had.
I should probably give you a fair warning.
This isn’t my life’s motto.
I am not someone who has mastered anxiety.
I still worry. Probably more than I should.
The only difference is that I’m slowly learning not to let worry become the main character of my life.
Because somewhere along the way I realised something. Worrying isn’t living. It’s surviving.
And that’s not how I want to spend the rest of my life.
I want to enjoy it.
Should I stop worrying altogether?
Probably not.
I think worrying is one of the ways my mind tells me that something matters.
But it doesn’t deserve to consume me.
Life is too short to spend it rehearsing disasters that may never arrive.
Maybe that’s also why I have slowly grown into believing that difficult experiences can teach us something—not because I enjoy going through them, but because looking for meaning helps me carry them a little better. I wrote more about that in my previous essay, The Belief I Grew Into.
https://caughtinshuffle.in/2026/07/30/the-belief-i-grew-into-does-everything-happen-for-a-reason/
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