It is 7:00 PM on a Sunday. You are sitting on a comfortable couch. You are watching a movie you like. Your fridge is full of food. You are safe.
But your heart is racing. Your chest feels tight. You are miserable.
Why?
Because you are mentally living in Monday morning’s meeting. You are replaying a conversation that hasn’t happened yet. You are stressing about an email you haven’t received yet.
You are suffering for a crime that hasn’t been committed. You are bleeding before the knife has even touched you.
The Brain Is a Simulator
Your brain is a survival machine, not a happiness machine. It is designed to predict threats.
The problem is that your brain cannot easily distinguish between a real threat (a tiger in the room) and a vividly imagined threat (getting fired tomorrow).
When you sit on that couch and obsess over “What if I fail?”, your amygdala dumps the same cortisol and adrenaline into your blood as if you actually failed.
If the disaster does happen, you pay twice (once in your head, once in reality).
If it doesn’t happen, you paid for nothing. You burned expensive energy on a ghost.
We Suffer More in Imagination
Two thousand years ago, the Stoic philosopher Seneca noticed this glitch in human software. He wrote to his friend Lucilius: “We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”
There is a critical distinction here:
Pain is inevitable. (The car breaks down. You get the flu.)
Suffering is optional. (Spending three days worrying that the car might break down).
Stoicism isn’t about having no emotions. It is about having efficient emotions. The Realist doesn’t waste expensive adrenaline on fake scenarios.
The Vaccine: Define the Nightmare
Most people try to think positive to push the fear away. They say, “Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
This fails because your brain knows you are lying. The fear comes back stronger.
The Stoic move is to do the opposite. Look the tiger in the eye. This is called Premeditatio Malorum (the premeditation of evils).
In modern terms, Tim Ferriss calls this Fear Setting. Instead of vague worrying (“What if I lose my job?”), you write down exactly what happens if you fail.
Step 1: I lose my job.
Step 2: I have to move in with my parents for three months to save rent.
Step 3: I get a bartending job while I look for a new role.
Step 4: I survive.
Once you define the monster, it stops being a monster and becomes a Plan. You realize, “Oh, I could handle that.” The anxiety vanishes because the mystery is gone.
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