“What if” can be a powerful question. In a positive sense, it can become the basis for a story. What if a young kid, stuck in neglectful conditions, was really a powerful wizard? What if there was a high end hotel with guests whose lives all intertwined? What if a tornado whisked someone away to a whole other world?

But “what if” can also haunt us.

“What if I do it wrong?”

“What if it all falls apart?”

Our anxieties can play out in any number of ways.

Writing a report, doing the taxes, going to a party…

“What if they laugh at me?”

In putting together my new podcast, the Rhythms of Focus, I’ve had to deal with many internal responses, culminating in some form of:

What if no one likes it?

What if it does well, and I can’t manage?

Neither of which leaves much room for feeling positive about the whole endeavor.

The usual advice, even from certain schools of therapy, is to consider the likelihood of something going wrong:

“It will probably be fine.”

“What are they chances?”

“They’re probably more scared of you than you are of them.”

The hope is to tamper anxiety with these more “realistic” stories, aiming to placate ourselves enough to finally act.

Sometimes this works. We take action. For sake of argument, let’s say that things work out 99 times out of 100. Unfortunately, that 1 time proves that “what if” could be right. If we told ourselves it would be fine, we would have just lied to ourselves, damaging the relationships between past, present, and future selves, worsening the conditions for a wandering mind.

Even if it does work every time, a haunting sense of “what if…” can continue to seep throughout awareness, for so many next meaningful decisions.

The trouble is that every time we argue the anxiety away, we are **appealing to our weakest selves**. Telling ourselves “it will probably be fine” is a direct statement that we would not be able to handle things if they were not fine.

A more honest approach might be, “Chances are it may not happen, but if it does, I’ll discover something about who I might be.”

They may laugh at me. I may encounter a bear. Everything might fall apart.

Who will I be then?

That can be terrifying. Staring anxiety in the face turns it into a fear.

But as a fear, it is now an object, around which *we can mount courage*. And the more we can deliberately practice that perspective, the stronger we may become.

This is not about ignoring the fear.

It is to feel the fear, and with it fully in direct line of sight, to then make the decision to act or not.

– Kourosh

PS. For a deep philosophical dive, consider Paul Tillich and the Courage to Be.

PPS Have you checked out Rhythms of Focus for Wandering Minds, ADHD, and Beyond? It’s the bees knees.