There is a particular kind of tiredness that comes from worrying. It is not always the kind that leaves us physically exhausted, although it certainly can. It is the tiredness of carrying possibilities around in our minds all day long. What if something goes wrong? What if they are upset with me? What if I have forgotten something? What if something happens to the people I love? What if I cannot cope? What if something bad is about to happen? When worry becomes part of our everyday experience, it can feel as though our minds are constantly searching for the next problem to solve, even when nothing is actually wrong. Learning how to stop worrying about everything is therefore not simply about trying to think positively. It is about understanding why our minds worry in the first place and learning how to respond differently. The difficult thing about worry is that it often feels as though it is helping us. If we think about every possible problem, perhaps we can prevent it. If we anticipate what someone might say or do, perhaps we can protect ourselves. If we stay alert to everything that could go wrong, perhaps we will never be caught by surprise. But worry is not the same as preparation. There is a difference between thoughtfully considering a problem and repeatedly rehearsing possible disasters in our minds. One can help us take action, Â the other can leave us living in a future that has not happened yet.
Worry is, in many ways, the mind’s attempt to create certainty, order and security in an uncertain world. We naturally want to know that the people we love are safe, that our relationships are secure, that our health is okay and that tomorrow will be manageable. Yet life cannot offer us complete certainty and perhaps one of the most important things to learn is that we do not have to know exactly what is going to happen in order to feel safe enough in the present moment. For someone who worries about everything, this can sound easier said than done, telling yourself to “stop worrying” rarely works. In fact, the harder we try to force an anxious thought away, the more attention we can give it. The mind can become caught in a cycle of thinking about the thought, questioning the thought and then worrying about why we are worrying. Instead, the invitation is to begin understanding our worry rather than fighting it. We ask yourself what the worry is trying to tell you, what are you afraid might happen and what are you trying to control. Most importantly, ask whether there is something you can actually do about the situation. If there is, take the next small step. If not, practise allowing the thought to be there without allowing it to take over.
One of the most difficult forms of anxiety is worrying about other people. When we care deeply about others, it is natural to become concerned about their wellbeing. you may worry about your children, partners, friends, family members or colleagues. you may find yourself thinking about whether somebody is happy, whether they are making the right choices, whether they are struggling or whether something might happen to them. Caring is not the problem. It is when caring becomes the responsibility for another person’s emotional life that worry can begin to consume us.
Learning how to stop worrying about other people does not mean becoming uncaring or detached, it means recognising the difference between compassion and control. You cannot live somebody else’s life for them, or make every decision on their behalf, prevent every disappointment or remove every difficulty they may encounter. You can support, listen encourage and love, but you cannot control another person’s journey. Sometimes you need to recognise that your responsibility ends where another person’s choices begin.
When you find yourself worrying about someone else, it can be helpful to ask whether they have actually asked for our help, whether there is something practical you can do, or whether your mind is simply creating scenarios about what might happen. If there is something you can do, you can do it. If there is not, you may need to gently return your attention to your own live. This can be particularly difficult for people who have learned, often early in life, to monitor the emotional states of others. If you grew up feeling responsible for keeping the peace, anticipating other people’s moods or making sure everyone was okay, you may have become exceptionally good at scanning your environment for signs that something might be wrong. You may notice a change in somebody’s voice, a facial expression or a slight shift in their behaviour and immediately begin wondering what it means.
That ability may once have been useful, it may have helped you navigate difficult circumstances or relationships. But something that helped you feel safe in the past can become exhausting when you continue to use it long after the original circumstances have changed. You can become so accustomed to looking outward for signs of danger, you forget to ask yourself whether you are actually safe in the present moment.
This also helps us understand why anxiety can sometimes seem contagious. Can being around someone with anxiety give you anxiety? In a sense, yes. We are highly responsive to the emotional states of those around us. We naturally notice facial expressions, tone of voice, body language and changes in behaviour while our nervous systems are constantly taking in information about our environment. Being around somebody who is highly anxious, particularly for long periods, can therefore affect our own emotional state. We may begin to feel tense, vigilant or unsettled ourselves, and we might even start anticipating the same problems they are anticipating.
This does not mean that anxiety is literally being transferred from one person to another like an illness. Rather, another’s energy can influence our emotions, our nervous system responds to the environments and relationships we inhabit. If you regularly spend time with someone who is anxious, it can be helpful to develop healthy emotional boundaries. You can care about their experience without taking it on as your own. You can listen without becoming responsible for making their anxiety disappear. Recognising that another person’s fear belongs to them can create an important internal boundary between empathy and emotional absorption.
Another form of fear that affects many people is social anxiety, most of us feel self-conscious from time to time. We might worry before giving a presentation, meeting new people or entering an unfamiliar social situation. Social anxiety, however, goes beyond ordinary nervousness. If you are experiencing anxiety, social situations can provoke an intense and persistent fear of being judged, embarrassed, rejected or negatively evaluated by other people. There may be a feeling that others are watching, noticing or criticising you, even when there is little evidence that this is actually happening. Understanding these symptoms can sometimes help people recognise what they are experiencing. The symptoms can be emotional, physical and behavioural. You might experience a racing heart, sweating, trembling, blushing, nausea, dizziness, muscle tension or a feeling of panic. You may find it difficult to make eye contact, speak in groups, eat in front of others, use the telephone or enter situations where they feel exposed.
There can also be a strong tendency to avoid social situations altogether. You may decline invitations, avoid making phone calls, keep quiet even when they have something to say or choose situations where they feel less visible. This avoidance can provide short-term relief, but it can also reinforce the belief that social situations are dangerous or that we cannot cope with them. Anxiety is not necessarily confined to the social situation itself. The mind can continue replaying conversations long afterwards. You may wonder why you said something, whether somebody thought you sounded foolish, why they responded in a particular way or whether you embarrassed yourself. The brain can become a kind of courtroom in which we are constantly putting ourselves on trial.
Yet other people are usually far less focused on us than our anxious mind tells us. Most people are busy navigating their own insecurities, thoughts and concerns. What feels like a glaring mistake to us may not have registered with someone else at all. Learning to challenge the assumption that we are constantly being evaluated can therefore be an important part of reducing our anxiety. We can begin to notice when our mind is making assumptions about what other people are thinking and remind ourselves that we cannot know another person’s thoughts simply because we feel that they are judging us. Then there is perhaps one of the most unsettling experiences of all. Why do I always think something bad is about to happen? You may not even know what the something is. There may be no obvious danger, yet something inside you says that you need to be careful because something is not right. This can be frightening because the sensation itself feels like evidence. However, anxiety can create a very convincing sense of impending danger even when there is no immediate threat.
Our nervous system has evolved to detect potential danger and prepare us to respond. When our brain perceives threat, whether physical or psychological, the body’s stress response can become activated. Your heart rate may increase, breathing can change, muscles can tense and your attention becomes more focused on detecting possible problems. When this system becomes overly sensitive, it can begin responding to uncertainty as though uncertainty itself is dangerous. This can leave us constantly scanning the horizon. You may notice a sensation in our body and immediately wonder what it means. You may analyse somebody’s tone of voice, worry because they have not replied to a message or become concerned about an event that has not even happened. The mind starts looking for evidence that its fears are justified, and because the world is inherently uncertain, it will always find something that could potentially go wrong.
This is one reason anxiety can feel so convincing, is the anxious brain is designed to notice threats, not to prove that everything is safe. If you are already worried, you are more likely to notice information that confirms our concerns. A harmless physical sensation can suddenly feel significant, and a delayed message can become evidence that somebody is angry. An ordinary change in someone’s mood can become a sign that something terrible has happened, unfortunately, the more attention you give these possibilities, the more important they can begin to feel. Reassurance can sometimes provide only temporary relief, we may ask someone whether everything is okay, receive reassurance and feel better for a little while. Then another possibility appears and the cycle begins again. We may search online, ask another person, check something repeatedly or mentally review a situation in an attempt to achieve certainty. Unfortunately, certainty is often impossible, and the search for the answer can become part of the anxiety itself.
The solution is not necessarily to achieve absolute certainty, it is to develop a greater tolerance for uncertainty. Instead of asking ourselves how we can make sure nothing bad ever happens, we can begin asking how we can trust ourselves to cope if something difficult does happen. We cannot guarantee that life will never hurt us and we cannot prevent illness, disappointment, rejection, change or loss. But we can develop resources, relationships, resilience and self-trust. We can learn that difficult feelings rise and fall. We can discover that we have survived things we once believed we could not survive. Perhaps the goal is not to create a life without uncertainty, but to become less frightened by uncertainty.
One simple way to begin is to separate a fear into two categories, something that requires action and something that requires acceptance. If you are worried about an upcoming appointment, you can prepare. If you are concerned about an important conversation, you can think about what you want to say. If you have forgotten to pay a bill, you can check and pay it. These are actionable worries because there is something within your control that you can do. But there are many worries that cannot be solved through thinking. What if my child gets hurt one day? What if my relationship ends? What if I become ill? What if someone doesn’t like me? What if something goes wrong in the future? Thinking about these questions for another three hours will not make us safer.
Sometimes the gentlest response is to recognise that we simply do not know what the future will bring. It can feel uncomfortable initially, particularly if we have become accustomed to using worry as a way of trying to stay in control. Discomfort is NOT danger. Learning to sit with a little uncertainty, without immediately trying to resolve it, can gradually teach the nervous system that we are capable of experiencing the unknown without needing to escape from it. It can help to bring us back into the present moment. Fear and worry always live in the future. We try to second guess events that have not happened. Grounding brings us back to what is actually happening now. We can notice our feet on the floor, feel the chair beneath us, take a slower breath and look around the room. We can notice what we can hear and allow our shoulders to soften and we can ask ourselves what is actually happening in this moment rather than becoming lost in everything that might happen later.
Sometimes the answer is surprisingly ordinary, we are sitting in a room, breathing. We are going about our day, there is nothing that needs to be solved immediately. This does not mean ignoring genuine concerns. Anxiety should never be used to dismiss our intuition or legitimate problems because there are times when something does require our attention. The skill is learning to distinguish between a problem that needs action and a fear that is asking for certainty that life cannot provide. Perhaps one of the most important parts of learning how to stop worrying is learning to be kinder to ourselves. Many people who worry excessively become frustrated with themselves. There internal dialogue tells themselves that they should be stronger, calmer or more rational and they become angry when their mind starts racing again. But anxiety is not a personal failure, it just maybe that your mind may simply have become very good at trying to protect you.
If your mind has spent years scanning for danger, it will not suddenly stop because you have told it to. It needs repeated experiences of safety, patience, balance and calm to respond differently. Instead of asking yourself why you are like this, perhaps ask what you need right now. Sometimes you may need rest, connection, movement or reassurance. Sometimes you may need a boundary and sometimes professional support.
Therapy can be particularly valuable when worry has become persistent, interferes with everyday life, affects relationships or prevents us from doing things we want to do. Therapy can help us recognise patterns of anxious thinking and develop different responses and help us to explore the deeper emotional experiences that may sit underneath our anxiety. There is no single route to wellbeing, and finding the right support can be an important part of learning to understand ourselves rather than simply trying to silence our symptoms. Because underneath the question, “How do I stop worrying about everything?” there may be another question, how do I learn to feel safe enough to live my life?
We do not have to stop every anxious thought, and we don’t have to become completely fearless or to know what tomorrow will bring. We can learn to notice a thought without automatically believing it and we can care about other people without carrying their emotions. We can be around someone else’s anxiety without making it our own and enter social situations without demanding perfection from ourselves. We can experience the sensation that something might go wrong without automatically assuming that it will.
Most importantly, we can learn to return to the present moment, because life will always contain uncertainty, there will always be things beyond our control, and there will be days when worry returns, even after we thought we had moved beyond it. Perhaps wellbeing is not about reaching a place where we never worry again, it is about developing a different relationship with our fears, one in which we can hear it without allowing it to run our lives. The aim is not to silence our mind completely, it is to develop enough trust in ourselves that we no longer need to listen to every fearful thought as though it were a warning. We can acknowledge our fears, take action where action is needed and then allow ourselves to return to the life happening around us, and begin to understand that a thought is not a prediction, a feeling is not always a fact and uncertainty does not automatically mean danger.
Sometimes the greatest freedom comes from realising that we do not have to solve tomorrow today, we can meet life as it comes, one moment at a time, knowing that whatever the future brings, we will have the opportunity to meet it then. For now, we can breathe, soften, look around us and allow ourselves to be where we are.
Learning how to stop worrying about everything is not about eliminating every anxious thought or creating a life where nothing ever goes wrong. It is about learning that we can experience uncertainty without being consumed by it, care for others without carrying everything for them, and recognise anxious thoughts without allowing them to dictate our choices. With patience, self-awareness and the right support, it is possible to create more space between a thought and our response to it, and sometimes, that space is where peace begins.
