Send. Submit. Post. Publish. These are all words that can send panic through my entire nervous system as I imagine all the rejections, criticisms, and trolls out there waiting to tear me apart.
Does this ever happen to you? Do you ever ruminate about a text or email, or that job application you submitted? Do you also imagine only bad things happening?
The minutes, days, or weeks after you send that text or email or submit that application can drive you crazy. That limbo space is like a free pass for our mind to go through every terrible scenario and play it out in our heads over and over. You're in that waiting room of life, or cyberspace, or human resources hell. You don't know what's happening. Did they get my message? Are they mad at me? Did I say something wrong? Oh my gosh, maybe they were in a terrible accident, and they're lying in a ditch somewhere, and their phone is crushed under the car? Or dang it, I bet I misspelled a word in the form. Did I even include my contact information?
Our minds go crazy in this in-between space. It makes up horror stories not even Stephen King could concoct. From wild assumptions about our likability to second-guessing spell-check, to analysis paralysis, where we can't do anything else because we're just obsessed with not knowing what in the world is going on.
We want to know. And if we don't know, we'll make stuff up. Even crazy stories are better than silence.
But why do we go so doomsday on ourselves? How did an unanswered text become a tragic car crash? And I didn't make that up. I've made those leaps in my mind, practically convincing myself the person must be bleeding out, or they would have responded.
It's comical, really.
Only after you realize your friend is not dead in a ditch. Then you can laugh about it, but not a minute sooner.
Until you get that certain truth — when you get that text, or even the rejection letter from HR — until you get your answer, you will conjure up as many reasons why and live in that land of scary make-believe and keep going over and over to make sure you didn't say that one thing you know would make them mad. Pulling up the application again and again to check your answers, double-check your spelling, and triple-check your name and phone number.
It's a crazy-making cesspool of the worst thoughts you can imagine.
And it can be so strong, like a centripetal force slamming you against the wall. It reminds me of the Silly Silo ride at the amusement park of my childhood, where the machine spun so fast, and the floor dropped, and the force pinned you against the wall suspending you above the floor.
You're just stuck there in your cylinder of uncertainty. Swirling. Ruminating. Sweating. Nauseous. Wishing the thing would stop and hoping the person next to you doesn't throw up.
Why do we do this?
I'm not a neuroscientist, but as a coach who helps people initiate change in their lives, I've studied how our brain can keep us stuck in our ruminating patterns. It's an amazing organ. It is as capable as a computer chip at remembering and spitting out data and words and making them into stories. And it has this uncanny tendency to glom onto the negative. Anything bad that has ever happened can get lodged in there. The brain wants to know when to kick into survival mode. It's always looking out for danger.
When things are uncertain, and we do not know what is going to happen, our brain uses our past experiences to predict, and ultimately, protect us from whatever is or could be happening. It's an incredible alarm system. But sometimes it can start beeping at things that really aren't threats.
The science behind the way our brains learn to react and respond to situations is fascinating, but what I find even more incredible is that we can impact how our wild brains work. We can teach it new things, and in turn teach ourselves to react in new ways. We can catch the stories before they get out of hand. We can even rewrite the whole script.
But how do we change it?
We have to teach our brains to respond differently. That requires us to notice when we're in that spiral and to find ways to shift our brain out of negative story-making mode to our more rational mind. It is not really complicated, but it takes conscious effort.
I've found it helpful to break it down into three basic steps. Pause. Act. Choose.
So the next time you find yourself in that swirl of negativity and worrying about the worst-case scenario, try to follow these three simple steps. They're simple, but not necessarily easy. And practice is the key.
First step: Pause.
This is the crucial step. You have to know what's going on before you can change it. When I notice I'm in this crazy-making mode, I acknowledge it. "You're making stuff up," I tell myself. "None of this is probably true."
Just saying that makes me sigh or let out a deep breath. That little change in consciousness and our breathing actually puts the brakes on your nervous system and shifts you out of panic mode.
You can do many little actions to shift your consciousness. Some will count to 5 or 10. Others stand up or look at a certain picture or even rub their fingers together to take their attention out of their head.
Second step: Ask Questions.
Once you've got your brain's attention, you can start asking questions. Get curious about your thoughts and worries. What would make me think the person was in an accident? Oh, maybe because my brother-in-law was in a horrific crash, and the cop answered the phone when my sister called multiple times looking for him. Ok — that's how my brain made that leap. It was remembering that past incident. That's what our brains do. It uses other experiences to interpret new ones.
Then keep going. Here are a few to shift out of the negative narrative and get perspective.
- What else might be going on?
- How might I be wrong?
- What might be a positive reason why the person did not respond, or my application did not get an immediate interview call? (Or whatever the situation is.)
- What DO I know? This might be the most powerful question to ask. By focusing on what you do know, you give your brain concrete information that helps you find solutions and identify actions to take in the meantime. It provides an anchor that helps you shift out of feeling paralyzed or stuck.
Third step: Choose.
Now that you've discredited some of the crazy stories and discovered some other possibilities and real data about what is happening, you can make more informed decisions about what to do. You can choose how to respond and what to do while you wait.
This step can get murky for me when the crazy stories keep popping up, even though I've totally debunked their myths. Sometimes I have to keep going back and forth between the questions and focus on what I do know to remain anchored in a more positive and relaxed mode. I still find myself hanging out in the crazy space for a bit before I can find my rational brain. Once I find her, I can make a conscious (and hopefully better) choice about what to do.
Just last week, I found myself ruminating over an email I sent. Without a response, I could not complete an important project and meet a deadline I desperately wanted to meet — and I was getting frantic. I started making up lots of stories about what the other person thought of me, questioning what I did wrong…and all that usual nonsense. I could barely sit still. In this case, my pause was to walk around, take some deep breaths, and tell myself I was making all this up. I put away a few dishes and did a few menial tasks. Then I started asking questions. What I did know was that the person was in another time zone, and I also knew that I had a backup plan in case I didn't get their response in time. That was the key that helped me release the crazy story — recognizing what I knew and creating a plan to deal with it. I also reminded myself of the countless other times I wrapped myself up in a ball of email anxiety, and everything was fine. My choice was to start working on another project and let it go. Indeed, the next day I received the response I needed, and all was right with the world.
I still "wasted" some time and energy in the spin cycle, but not nearly as long as I used to.
It's a simple process. But retraining the brain and catching her in the act requires vigilance. And when I get in the Silly Silo of Limbo, she tests my ability to keep my feet on the ground. I just have to remember three things:
- Pause.
- Ask questions.
- Choose.
I could call it the PAC method. Like the Pac-Man video game of my childhood, you can visualize your rational brain gobbling up all those crazy thoughts.