The Worry List: Because Apparently My Brain Has a Full-Time Job
A simple practice that helps me stop carrying tomorrow's problems into today.
I come from a long line of worriers.
Not genetically, as far as I know. Nobody has ever handed me the family tree and pointed to a branch labeled “Chronic Overthinkers,” but if worrying were an Olympic sport, I suspect several relatives would have medaled.
I worry about normal things.
My kids, my wife, my business.
Whether I remembered to lock the front door. Whether I forgot to remember to lock the car door. Then there are the less normal worries.
I once spent 20 minutes wondering whether a headache was due to dehydration, lack of sleep, allergies, or the opening scene of a medical drama.
I’ve worried about retirement, the economy, my cholesterol, whether my dog is truly happy, and why bananas seem to go from green to brown in roughly six minutes.
The human mind is a remarkable instrument. It can solve complex problems, create art, invent technologies, and somehow convince you at 2:17 a.m. that an awkward comment you made in 2014 is about to ruin your life.
For years, I treated worry like a game of Whac-A-Mole. Every time an anxious thought popped up, I’d try to smash it back down with logic.
“Everything is fine.”
“Stop thinking about it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The problem is that worry loves attention. The more you argue with it, the more it assumes it must be important, but then I stumbled onto one of the simplest practices I’ve ever used.
The Worry List.
It’s exactly what it sounds like. You sit down with a piece of paper and write down every single thing that’s bouncing around inside your head. The big stuff. The small stuff and the embarrassingly irrational stuff.
Business concerns? Write them down. Health concerns? Write them down.
That weird noise your car made three weeks ago? Congratulations, that’s on the list too. No pretending you’re above worrying about whether that email sounded passive-aggressive.
Just write.
What surprised me wasn’t the number of worries. It was how repetitive they were.
After a while, I realized my brain wasn’t generating new content. It was basically playing the same greatest hits album over and over.
Track 1: What if things go wrong?
Track 2: Are you sure things are okay?
Track 3: Have you considered a completely unlikely disaster scenario?
Track 4: Let’s revisit Track 1.
Getting those worries onto paper does something powerful. It tells your brain, “Message received. You don’t need to keep sending it.”
The worries stop floating around like invisible fog and become visible objects. Tangible, finite, and manageable, and once they’re written down, something else becomes obvious.
Some worries require action while others require acceptance. Many require absolutely nothing.
Which brings me to one of my favorite sayings:
Action is worry’s worst enemy.
If there’s something you can do, do it.
Make the phone call.
Schedule the appointment.
Have the conversation.
Create the budget.
Send the email.
Take the walk.
But if there’s nothing you can do today, carrying the worry around won’t improve the outcome. It will only make you tired. Trust me. I’ve tested this extensively.
Professional worrier. 35-plus years of field research.
The Worry List hasn’t eliminated anxiety from my life, but it has taught me that I don’t have to carry every thought my brain hands me.
Some thoughts deserve action, while some deserve attention, and some deserve a spot on a piece of paper where they can sit quietly and wait their turn.
Because life is hard enough without serving as the unpaid intern for every anxious thought that wanders through your head, and if you’re worried this advice won’t work for you?
Congratulations.
That’s probably the first thing on your Worry List.