When worry feels like preparation (But drains us instead)

As a therapist, I often meet people who tell me, “I can’t stop worrying. It’s like my mind keeps running ahead of me, planning for every disaster.”

And I get it. Worry can feel like it’s preparing us for life, as if by rehearsing every possible problem, we’ll somehow be more ready when something goes wrong. But here’s the paradox: worry doesn’t actually make us stronger. It drains the very energy we would need if real trouble ever does come our way.

Think about it this way: imagine your mind is a battery. Every “what if” thought that loops in your head uses up a little bit of that charge. If you’re constantly worrying, by the time a genuine challenge arrives, you’re already running on low power.

Why the brain loves to worry

From a psychological point of view, worry is linked to our brain’s survival wiring. Research shows that the human brain is naturally biased toward scanning for threats. Psychologists call this the negativity bias. It helped our ancestors survive when danger could lurk behind any bush. But in today’s world, this bias often leaves us overthinking, restless, and exhausted, even when there’s no immediate threat.

We all saw this play out during the pandemic. COVID-19 was a new and unknown arena. People felt anxious, and quite naturally, they turned to the news, believing that more information would bring relief. But instead of calming the mind, constant exposure to alarming headlines only heightened anxiety. The brain stayed locked in a loop: I feel anxious → I check the news → I see something frightening → I feel more anxious. That cycle drained energy without solving anything, leaving many people even more overwhelmed.

Cognitive-behavioral theory explains why this happens: worry tricks us into believing we’re taking action, when really we’re just going in circles. It’s like rocking in a chair, you’re moving a lot, but you’re not actually going anywhere.

A case example

One of my clients, let’s call her Meera, would spend hours worrying about her teenage son’s safety. She played out scenarios of him getting into accidents, making poor choices, or being hurt in ways that hadn’t happened. By the time her son walked in the door safe and sound, she was emotionally drained, unable to enjoy his presence.

Through therapy, she began practicing a small shift: instead of asking, “What if something terrible happens?” she tried asking, “What is actually happening right now?” Over time, this helped her anchor herself to the present, saving her emotional energy for real situations where her son might actually need her calm support.

Saving energy for when It matters

Another client, Rohan, who worked in a high-pressure job, described feeling constantly anxious about being unprepared for failure. His worry led to sleepless nights, which ironically made him less effective at work. Once he started learning grounding techniques and postponing his “worry time” to a short, scheduled slot in the day, he found that he wasn’t carrying the weight of worry into every moment. He began sleeping better, and with that rest, he felt more capable of dealing with actual work challenges.

These stories remind us that worry doesn’t prevent hardship, it only makes us less equipped to face it.

A different way of relating to worry

When I catch myself worrying, I try to pause and remind myself: This is energy I may need later. I don’t want to spend it now. Instead, I ground myself, sometimes with a few deep breaths, other times by shifting attention to something real and present: the feel of my feet on the floor, the sound of a nearby voice, the texture of what I’m holding.

The goal isn’t to eliminate worry completely (that’s nearly impossible), but to stop letting it drain us unnecessarily.

So the next time your mind spins with “what ifs,” try this thought:

I will save my energy for when I truly need it. For now, I choose presence over prediction.

Because when life does bring real challenges, as it always does, you’ll be steadier, clearer, and ready to meet them.