“Being Human” — Catastrophizing

Though I have talked a lot about reductive thinking in this series, catastrophizing feels perhaps anything but reductive. Certainly, it does not feel like underthinking, and is admittedly most recognizable as a version of overthinking a situation. While I hold there are reductive elements to the process, I concede the notion of overthinking for catastrophizing because the subject of the series is the individual, and in catastrophic thinking the individual specifically is doing too much.

I’m ahead of myself. How on theme.

There’s the turn of phrase — “to make a mountain out of a molehill.” Generally, the phrase refers to the notion that a small problem is made to seem much larger than it is. This is likely the simplest way of imagining or explaining catastrophic thinking, though it’s not entirely true. The other idiom that comes to mind is the idea of a “slippery slope,” which is predominantly used in the context of logical fallacy. The “slippery slope” describes an argument or point that if accepted cedes bigger and often more threatening ramifications.

A very different slippery slope that you should avoid in person at the very least.

For example, prior to the legalization of gay marriage in the US, there were arguments against it stating that allowing two men or two women to wed would “open the floodgates” eventually leading to legal pedophilia, bestiality, and of course robo-marriage. The fallacy in the “slippery slope” is that the imminent threats usually have little or no actual connection to the primary argument, and the tactic is mostly hyperbolic sensationalism or fear mongering at its core. It’s possible to see this process in the framework of “making a mountain out of a molehill,” because there’s an amplification in effect. A single problem is blown out of proportion by association with a litany of largely unrelated problems.

That’s catastrophic thinking. It’s a slippery slope.

Except in catastrophizing, you’re not arguing or discussing against another person. Catastrophizing is a form of internal (and sometimes externalized) storytelling where we decide that a small event will trigger a cascade of bigger and bigger ramifications, ultimately leading to something truly grandiose. The name even gives it away — catastrophizing or catastrophic thinking belies how this form of overthinking takes small problems and turns them into catastrophes.

A classic example of catastrophizing is the “late to work” process.

I wake up late.

That means, I’ll get to work late.

That means my supervisor will be upset.

That means my supervisor will take action to punish my tardiness.

That means I might get fired.

That means I might not be able to pay rent.

That means I’ll be homeless.

That means I’ll suffer and die.

Woah.

This person is going to suffer and die. In the comfort of her own curated home.

For varying levels of anxiety, one might stop at any place along this slippery slope — not everyone falls all the way down to death every time. There is definitely a level of reason that ties all of these events together, but there’s also a cascading assumption that leads a small mishap to snowball into a huge fiasco. It’s almost enough to notice that these events are actually quite separate and rely on a host of other factors. You wake up late, but you have some control over what an adjusted morning routine looks like and how you get to work. You may show up late, but your supervisor is their own person with their own feelings and interpretations of events. They may be upset but this might be your first strike. You might get fired, but you might also find another job swiftly.

Catastrophizing takes an impossibly wide set of possible realities and reduces all of those universes into a single, load-bearing story that can be very stressful on the individual.

See, it ends up being reductive after all.

To be clear, while catastrophizing has a negative connotation and is perhaps easiest to think of in the negative, it works the same way with “positive” events as well.

My friend brings up they know someone at the place I want to work.

I might be able to meet that person.

I might be able to get an internal reference.

I might be able to get the job I want.

I might get paid more at this great job.

I might use that money to get the stuff I’ve been wanting a while.

I might be actually happy.

The assumptions are there, the story-telling is there. It IS catastrophizing, even if there’s no catastrophe to speak of. In the positive context, it seems a bit more obvious why we might engage in this behavior. Story-telling, especially in this way, incentivizes us toward action that might improve our lives. In the more traditional catastrophic context, the motivation is survival; crafting a worst-case scenario and strongly bonding it to a banal circumstance sets up harsh expectations for us to behave certain ways. In that way, catastrophizing to any degree is one of the greater acts of unkindness we have for ourselves. We wield our biology against ourselves, demanding that we survive situations that only exist in fantastical hyperbole.

I see hope there. Catastrophic thinking is something we do to ourselves, and in my opinion there is no healthy version of it. It borrows unhealthy behavior from fortune-telling and sets up expectations based on assumptions of others and as-yet unseen circumstances. But it’s ours, and so we can act autonomously against it.

Really, we do it to ourselves.

The simple solution is “be when and where you are.” Do what you will with what you have. It’s not about giving up, and it’s not about ceding power to the universe. It’s about noticing and constructing a healthy boundary around what is and isn’t within your control. Further, it’s about acting on your control rather than giving time to story-telling. Even if the action is “this mishap derails me too much and so I will yield for now,” combatting catastrophic thinking means learn to make decisions that are more in tune with the constraints of your current, real situation.

If I’m being less pedantic or idiomatic about it, there’s a process of mindfulness at work here.

1. Recognize the stress and the resulting behavior.
2. Stop.
3. Call out the source as best you can.
4. Establish a small set of immediate actions.
5. Table any internal monologue of fallout or future for later.
6. Take action from the small set.

Steps one through three are key components of mindfulness in general. As a practice, becoming more aware of your mental and emotional stress will afford you more control over when you stop and start worrying about it. Stopping will allow you to recognize the stressors more genuinely, which means you can address them more finely when you have the time.

For catastrophic thinking, step four is perhaps the most important and unique. There’s an idea that mindfulness is all about being present — which is largely true. In the context of catastrophizing, mindfulness seeks to minimize the scope of our worry by acting against our desire and ability to “see the future.” Flatly, we can’t see the future; que sera, sera (whatever will be, will be). I don’t like touting this version of mindfulness because it’s the ideal and so it betrays the fact that mindfulness is something to be practiced. For catastrophic thinking, the mindfulness ideal is that you think and act exclusively in the present. More human-ly, the present is impossibly ethereal and it feels reductive and silly to say “only act in the present.”

Step five is worth calling out as well, because it’s an imperative statement. It’s a call to action for one to make a choice. You have to choose to push off ruminating and act in the present. As with all of this, the choice is yours but debating yourself and storytelling are the first steps down the slippery slope. Choosing to engage them later, if at all is a step away from the catastrophe.

You are already doing it. The work of the work is recognizing that you’re already doing it.

You only have so much energy to give to actions and thinking.

You will naturally give it to the present.

So, when you can see yourself begin to slip, try to trust your body more. You are already acting.

Sincerely Not Slippery,

August