My life isn’t usually punctuated by dramatic, earth-shattering crises. Instead, it’s underscored by a persistent, low-level hum of worry, a soundtrack of “what ifs” and “maybe this will go horribly wrong.” It’s like having a tiny, perpetually anxious radio station playing in the background of my mind, broadcasting a never-ending stream of potential catastrophes and minor inconveniences blown wildly out of proportion.

This isn’t a dramatic, heart-pounding anxiety (though that makes an occasional guest appearance). It’s more insidious, a subtle undercurrent that colors my thoughts and tinges my interactions. It’s the nagging feeling that I’ve forgotten something important, even when I haven’t. It’s the mental rehearsal of every possible negative outcome in any given situation, from a simple phone call to a major life decision.

My brain is a master of worst-case scenarios. Give it a seemingly innocuous situation, and it will gleefully extrapolate a series of increasingly disastrous consequences. A slightly delayed email becomes a sign of professional failure and impending unemployment. A friend’s unreturned text morphs into a declaration of silent disapproval and the end of the friendship. It’s exhausting, this constant mental gymnastics of anticipating and bracing for the worst.

This hum of worry isn’t always loud enough to be overtly disruptive, but it’s always there. It leeches away my mental energy, making it harder to focus on the present moment and truly enjoy anything without a little voice in the back of my head whispering, “But what if…?” It makes even simple tasks feel slightly more fraught, like navigating a minefield where the mines are mostly imaginary but the potential for explosion feels very real.

I’ve tried to silence this internal radio station, believe me. Meditation apps, deep breathing exercises, the whole shebang. Sometimes they offer a temporary reprieve, a brief moment of static. But the signal always returns, that familiar hum of unease settling back into the background, a constant reminder that something, somewhere, could go wrong. And my brain, ever the diligent broadcaster, will be sure to keep me updated on all the terrifying possibilities.