By Alexa Jeffery Garza

POV: I am catastrophising.

We have all been there. Something happens that threatens our safety and our security, shaking up the foundation upon which we stand, and the process begins. I’m in bed. Blankets over head. Paralyzed by fear of the unknown, the limitless potential for worst-case scenarios. We have all been there… right?

Catastrophising is most often seen in individuals who experience depression, anxiety and panic disorders, as well as various health challenges with and without pain. It is described within the medical field as ‘an exaggerated, negative mental set brought on during actual or anticipated painful experiences’ (Cox, 2021). It is the fear associated with what if?

What if I get hurt? What if it gets worse? What if everything I’m afraid of happens?

I first catastrophised as a young child, when the thought of expressing my feelings and opinions felt like a threat to my safety and wellbeing. I was conditioned to internalise and suppress my needs. Instead of communicating in a way that provided solace, I kept everything to myself – and there, within the confines of my head, I was most susceptible to the infinite potential of worst-case scenarios.

This tendency to imagine and ruminate on the worst followed me as I got older. By my early twenties, it was a challenge to function without overwhelming dread sitting like a rock in the pit of my stomach. At twenty-three years old, I was petitioning for sole custody of my daughter, whom I’d given birth to seven years earlier and raised on my own. Her father had floated in and out of our lives up until that point, which was emotionally turbulent, anxiety-inducing and downright heartbreaking. Although he had abandoned his parental responsibilities before my daughter was born, he was vehemently opposed to my legal action and spent much energy on threatening me as a means of scaring me away from following through. And it worked. I was terrified at what the court process would entail. What if the courts granted him custody? What if they deem me an unfit parent? What if I lost my baby?

My appetite had disappeared, and I was rapidly losing weight and energy. I spent every night tossing and turning, riddled with insomnia and a racing mind. Focusing on my work was nearly impossible. I remember sitting on my lunch break so many years ago as the trial date loomed, panicking about the potential for the worst. What if I had set myself up for failure? What if I’d made a mistake? Of course, these scenarios were highly unlikely given my situation – but I didn’t have the skills to soothe myself, nor to realise the reality of my thought and behaviour patterns.

This wasn’t the only situation in which I’d succumb to catastrophising. If my boss asked to speak to me, I immediately assumed I was getting fired. If one of my parents called, I thought someone was injured or even dead. If a friend sent an odd text, I believed I’d done something to upset them. Any perceived conflict led me to imagine the absolute worst-case scenario, believe it, and then live with its physiological repercussions.

Years of introspection, counselling and mindfulness training have allowed me to reach a period in which I don’t immediately jump to the worst possible conclusions. First, I needed to better understand my own feelings of inadequacy, the ways in which my Ego was trying to protect me, and, more generally speaking, the nature of the human experience. I realised that my fear of conflict stemmed from a fear of rejection, judgment and criticism. My Ego, so fragile, protected me from facing rejection by imagining multiple potential scenarios (so that I could try my hardest to avoid them!). The nature of the human experience, from my perspective, is that the circumstances in which we are conditioned shape our views on the trials of life. Pain and fear had shaped mine.

I also had to understand the chain of reactions I created when I catastrophised. My thoughts changed my feelings, my feelings changed my behaviour, and my behaviour changed my character. In this chain, the perception of the catastrophe created a negative thought pattern; the negative thought pattern introduced fear; my fear introduced loss of appetite, sleep and peace; my unrest became the anxious and dysfunctional woman I was growing up to be. I needed to take my power back.

This awakening led to a tumultuous young adulthood, filled with unlearning and relearning, mistakes and insights. When the dust began to settle, I moved through the world differently. I understood feelings of balance and peace. I was better able to recognise when I felt threatened by something, and when my thoughts were taking the reins. I learned what to look for when recognising my human reaction to survival mode. Loss of appetite. Ruminating thoughts. Tunnel vision. Irritability. Lack of patience. Insomnia. Anxiety. Heart palpitations. Nausea. Paralysis. Unrest.

I began to teach myself how to respond once I was activated. Whenever I struggled with mental health, I focused on grounding my body. I practiced breath work. I remembered that whatever I was imagining might happen was not happening in the present. I reminded myself to always focus on what is within my control – that moment.

I still engage with these techniques daily, because I can’t claim to have full control over my own cognitive processes just yet. The practice of changing my perception is lifelong – something I learn over and over and over again. I still experience moments where that familiar feeling of dread forms in my solar plexus. Sometimes, I conjure up the scariest what-ifs. Occasionally, they keep me up at night. The practice of responding to my fears with clarity is also lifelong.

The shadow work around changing my perception taught me how to soothe. This transformation wasn’t a loud one, but subtle. I have learned, and continue to learn, to carry myself easier, gentler, and with acceptance. I remember my chain of reactions, which can be positive as well as negative: with gentler thoughts come gentler feelings; those gentler feelings allow patience, compassion and presence; this mindful behaviour helps me to embody a character who experiences greater balance and peace, both internally and externally.

POV: catastrophe subsiding.