Throughout much of my existence, an unrelenting internal alert mechanism dominated my thoughts, refusing to deactivate. I perpetually anticipated calamity lurking at every turn—economic ruin, career setbacks, medical emergencies, public embarrassment, and profound bereavement. This pattern of catastrophic thinking transcended mere routine; it masqueraded as duty, as watchful caution, as essential self-preservation.
In my role as a documentary filmmaker, foreseeing potential mishaps is integral to the profession. We train ourselves to fixate on every conceivable pitfall: technical malfunctions, unpredictable weather patterns, fluctuating emotions from subjects, revoked authorizations, safety hazards, or irreplaceable opportunities vanishing into thin air. We hone our skills in threat detection, preemptively strategizing against disasters before they manifest. This isn’t mere anxiety—it’s professional expertise, rigorous preparation, the very mechanism that sustains our projects.
However, at some juncture, the adaptive survival instinct that bolstered my career started infiltrating my private world. My physiological stress response transformed into a nonstop crisis alert channel. Even outside of production schedules, I remained perpetually on guard—moment by moment, day after day, night upon night. Rather than safeguarding me, this pervasive anxiety began eroding my well-being from within.
And I had no idea how to interrupt this cycle.
The Pivotal Moment
Not too long ago, following several grueling months marked by battles for disability accommodations amid worsening eyesight from macular degeneration, persistent financial pressures, assistance to my grown children, and round-the-clock care for my ninety-six-year-old mother, I hit an emotional nadir. I felt utterly drained, emotionally bankrupt, and gripped by dread toward what lay ahead.
One particular morning, as I sat alongside my mother, an unforeseen event unfolded. We were both utterly fatigued, and the atmosphere hung thick with unspoken weariness. Suddenly, she erupted into laughter—a genuine, radiant, youthful burst of joy that seemed to emanate from a different era of her life. It permeated the space like a beam of warm sunlight breaking through clouds.
In that instant, a profound internal transformation occurred.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a novel inner voice emerged—soft-spoken, soothing, and entirely foreign to my usual mindset. It whispered clearly:
“Something positive is on the horizon.”
I resisted it instinctively. I attempted to dismiss it. My ingrained defensive patterns countered swiftly:
Don’t dare hope. Gear up for catastrophe. Shield yourself at all costs.
Yet the voice persisted, unwavering and serene:
“No. Truly. Something wonderful is approaching.”
It resembled that first liberating inhale after prolonged submersion.
Distinguishing Useful Fear from Its Excess
In the past, catastrophic thinking proved advantageous. During a documentary shoot, when emergencies arise, swift reflexes can rescue an entire production. There’s no luxury for breakdown; you respond decisively, improvise effectively, and press forward.
Yet a crucial distinction exists between mere reaction and thoughtful response.
- Reaction equates to frantic panic.
- Response embodies mindful presence.
- Reaction stems from raw fear.
- Response arises from keen awareness.
- Reaction involves physical tensing.
- Response fosters mental expansiveness.
For years, I operated in reaction mode—to life’s challenges, mounting pressures, personal losses, and pervasive unknowns. I was forever tensed in anticipation. I confused this rigidity with resilience.
Filmmaking, ironically, reminded me of a vital truth I’d overlooked: True success in the craft demands complete immersion in the present—not rigidity, not terror.
A filmmaker learns to embrace disorder without succumbing to it.
Similarly, every individual must cultivate this capacity.
Cultivating the Discipline of Hope
Ever since that enlightening exchange with my mother, I’ve adopted a straightforward yet powerful routine. Whenever anxiety surges and threatens to overwhelm, I intentionally halt and pose this question to myself:
“What if a positive outcome unfolds instead?”
This isn’t wishful delusion or evasion of reality—it’s an invitation to consider genuine potential.
As the typical spiral of dire predictions commences, I acknowledge it aloud:
“I appreciate your intent to safeguard me. However, I’m opting for hope at this moment.”
Gradually, a remarkable shift is taking place: I’m retraining my mind to anticipate positivity rather than impending doom.
Observable Transformations
On the surface, my circumstances remain unaltered—for now. Financial stability is precarious. My eyesight continues to deteriorate. Caregiving responsibilities persist unabated. Uncertainty about tomorrow lingers.
Internally, however, a complete overhaul has transpired.
I’ve ceased the constant vigilance. I’ve abandoned mental rehearsals of downfall. I’ve rejected presuming the bleakest scenarios.
In fear’s stead, a fresh element is emerging: a realistic, modest, hard-won sense of hope rooted in experience.
This mindset now guides my choices—from opportunity rather than alarm: endorsing my son’s educational journey to Spain despite strained budgets; persisting with submissions of my manuscripts and books amid repeated refusals; championing disability accommodations with composed determination over frantic pleas; embracing faith over foreboding; and crafting my words from vulnerability instead of fortification.
I sense myself poised at the threshold of an unfolding era. Perhaps this very sensation heralds the onset of that promised goodness.
A Message for Fellow Over-Thinkers
If your thoughts habitually gear toward apocalypse, know that I empathize deeply—I inhabited that space for decades.
Yet here’s the revelation unfolding for me:
- Enduring isn’t equivalent to truly thriving. Anxiety doesn’t equate to sagacity. Readiness doesn’t mirror hysteria.
Hope isn’t childish naivety. Hope isn’t frailty. Hope isn’t recklessness.
Hope represents deliberate selection. Hope demands consistent practice. Hope stands as defiant opposition.
Thus, this is the regimen I’m embracing currently:
Daily Hope Ritual
Morning Reflection
What single positive event could grace this day?
Evening Review
In what subtle instances did hope manifest today?
During Challenging Intervals
“Something uplifting is forthcoming. I elect to embrace that belief.”
The brain’s wiring can be reshaped. The spirit can rediscover openness. Our inner story can evolve.
And with utter conviction, I now affirm: Something truly good is on its way.
I’m prepared to receive it. You possess that readiness too.
