"Catastrophizing" is the tendency to make a catastrophe out of any eventuality. I have that tendency.
In the time of COVID-19, it's surely bedeviling people everywhere. A correspondent from Italy said the virus is like a sniper. What if it draws a bead on you? What if a loved one falls under the crosshairs—worst possibility of all, one's child?
They say "worry is wasted emotion." You're spending energy fretting about something that hasn't happened yet, and might not! So what's the point of all that worry if the thing you're worried about never comes to pass? You've bathed your brain in stress 'n' strain over naught.
Catastrophizing in its elemental form is embodied for me in old New Yorker cartoons. The New Yorker will turn 100 in 2025, and was old when I was young. When I used to go visit my grandparents, in their elegant 1920s French Provincial mansion in Indianapolis, I would sleep in "the office," a charming and protected corner room which was apparently never otherwise used. Maids changed the sheets every night, and there was a mother-of-pearl button on the wall by the bed in case you needed to call a servant in the night. For the amusement of potential guests such as my wee self there were several bound volumes of old New Yorker cartoons on the nightstand, and as an inveterate reader of comic books I read them all several times over. One trope that recurred was the bearded and long-haired crazy fellow dressed in flowing Biblical-style robes standing on the busy city street corner holding a sign that said, "THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END."
Catastrophizing!
Chicken Little is another paragon, of course. A scant page and a half long, and overly repetitive even so, it's a horrifying little tale about murder most fowl, and bears rereading. At four my eyes widened when poor Henny Penny's squawks and feathers came from the fox-hole. Awful.
Mind control
Catastrophizing is the perfervid, even fevered belief that something is worse than it really is. Empirically, we must admit that humans are remarkably poor at predicting the future; so why do we believe we know in advance how things will end? On the other hand, humans also have their heads in the sand, and sometimes realists simply more clearly see the truth. For instance, with those New Yorker prophets of doom, the old men in robes on the streetcorners with the placards, even my pre-teen self had the wit to think, well, of course the world is coming to an end for you—you're old and you're gonna croak. What's the point in worrying? The world ends for us all, save maybe for one wandering Nazarene rabbi two thousand years ago. Although there are rationalist skeptics of that account too.
I can't claim to have enough control of my thoughts to not worry when worrying things happen to me. But one of my antidotes to my catastrophizing tendency is to think of Stefan Zweig. The most translated writer in Europe in the 1920s and '30s, born to great wealth, he shifted himself hither and yon as if he never felt quite...safe. "A friend once remarked that, no matter where you met Zweig, his manner suggested a half-packed suitcase in the next room," writes Leo Carey (in, well, The New Yorker).
Stefan Zweig (standing) in 1900
Despite having escaped Hitler, despite fame and fortune and a beautiful young wife, Zweig was so shaken by Hitler's evil and so beset with anxiety at the carnage rampant in Europe and the world in 1942 that he ate poison in that year, taking his beautiful younger wife with him—and so, in effect, played the fox to his own Henny Penny (you might call Nietzsche his Chicken Little). One writer (I can't find the citation) noted that by the act of his final decampment, Zweig deprived himself of the opportunity to witness Hitler's downfall and death and the slow restoration of Europe to a state of orderliness and normalcy. It was a catastrophe, absolutely. But things pass. Zweig last saw the world when all was upended, and he could have lived to see things put right again, his Nietzschean fears allayed.
CATastrophizing—get it?
When I was in my early twenties, I lived on a horse farm in Vermont, and aside from helping with riding lessons and trail rides and writing short stories for hours on end, I had little to do. The tenant of the farm (her father owned it, but I never saw him with my own eyes) had five cats, one of which was a gentle and superbly athletic short-haired grey female called Tweedles. She was the Simone Biles of cats—capable of astounding feats of agility. She was easily three times as adroit as Coach, her boon companion, a scruffy amber tabby male. We devised a game together, Tweedles and I, that involved a large cardboard box that was open at the top. I'd put her in the box, and wiggle a finger over the edge or through a hole in the box; she would leap or pounce at my wiggling finger, and I would withdraw it just in time. Or not; sometimes I wasn't quite quick enough.
Some time after that, I discovered a large lump under my armpit. My mind immediately leapt to one word—cancer!—a word which was even more of a death sentence then than it is now. Set my heart to thumping. Convictions of catastrophe flooded my brain. I was so convinced I had cancer that I glumly refused to go see the doctor for a week. What was the use? During that week I stewed in my own doom, certain I was soon to die. Finally, though, I did go to the doctor, who scoffed at my worries and diagnosed something called "cat scratch fever"—a swollen lymph node caused by all the tiny wounds inflicted by Tweedles with her lightning quickness. He told me to put a hot washcloth under my arm three times a day and stop playing with the cat.
I did not, on that occasion, perish. But I can still conjure the needless feeling of dread, and the great but pointless grief over my imminent loss of the whole world, that I inflicted on myself during that week.
And I still struggle with my tendency to assume things are worse than they are. We joust, my worries and I, and sometimes, like recently, it gets the upper hand. But then sometimes I do. I'm making progress. I see the tendency now as merely a character defect, a habit of mind I should shed.
Try not to worry until you know you need to. It's a tall order, but a worthy goal.
Mike
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Featured Comments from:
JimF: "Don't watch, listen to, or read any news. Their business seems to be catastrophizing everything."
Mike replies: Yes, it's interesting, isn't it? I'm quite sure our attitude used to be exactly the opposite of what it is today. To name a trivial example, I distinctly remember when I was a kid in that we took snowstorms in stride and only grudgingly closed schools. A really big snowstorm, like a foot or more, could close things down, but not for very long, and, to your point, nobody made a big deal of it. Decades later, if a weather system is coming, the news will work everyone into a froth of dread and alarm over it...and then we'll get six inches, or sometimes three. I saw this happen more than a few times.
99% of the things we worry about never happen.
Posted by: Paul in AZ | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 11:58 AM
Mike,
I recently watched/listened to an episode of Joe Rogans podcast where he had an ex-Navy Seal on named Andy Stumpf, and when asked about how people make it through hell week of their BUDS training he said the trick is to “keep your world small”. Only focus on making it to lunch, then to dinner, etc... Now while that may be a bit extreme for the current situation I think the concept applied and may help. Seems very similar to addiction management (congrats btw).
Mark
Posted by: Mark Johnson | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 12:06 PM
I'm rather like you, a serious catastrophizer (if there is such a word). I can't count the times I've assured myself of my own doom, and I'm in my mid 70's. I've become obsessed, according to my spouse, with people avoidance and mask wearing. The news depresses me beyond belief. How can people be soooo stupid? Those in charge at the top seem to be uniquely blind to the risks they encourage others to take, even to the terrible example set by our own VP. Sorry to be political, but this virus can't tell a republican from a democrat from a communist to a fascist. The rich are fiscally able to enjoy more luxury than the poor when socially isolated but while we're not all in the same boat, some are a lot nicer than others, we're all in the same ocean. We catastrophizers probably would benefit from that the Car Guys called a "dope slap." But it seems like it's a part of our basic world outlook. I believe George Will once said, "The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised."
Posted by: Eric Brody | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 12:25 PM
My wife and I go back and forth on this. She is the family worrier. I once threatened to write a book entitled, "One Thousand and One Things that Might Happen (but Won't)" She was not amused.
Posted by: Duncan | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 12:33 PM
I wasn't treated to bound volumes of New Yorker cartoons when visiting my grandparents but I did get to read Fortune Magazine -- I liked the ads.
And when our school had its annual magazine subscription sales drive, I got my grandfather's Fortune order -- the most expensive one on the order form. Life was much simpler then.
Posted by: Speed | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 12:39 PM
An appropriate level of worry is healthy. It keeps one from doing foolish, potentially life-threatening activities, like taking photos on train tracks, or flying a helicopter in zero visibility conditions. On the other hand, worrying about things that you have no control over is wasteful and nonproductive.
Posted by: R. Edelman | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 12:53 PM
“For all those finding it difficult: the sun will shine on you again and the clouds will go away”
Captain Tom Moore, 100
My new hero
https://people.com/human-interest/captain-tom-moore-veteran-raised-money-coronavirus-relief-turns-100/
Posted by: Dave Hodson | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 01:44 PM
Well I understand that Anxiety is a real thing and the pain it can cause for some folks is just as real. My dear wife has that tendency as well, and I have watched her deal with it for many years. Notice I didn't say helped, because though I have tried, it turns out, the help comes from within. Her best antidote is to be busy, she cleans , organizes, gardens, re-arranges, and polishes. We recently removed every book from every shelf, and cleaned my Library.
I'm amazed by her. Productivity is her antidote. Not a total one I am sure, but I admire her greatly for how she deals with a difficult thing.
Our youngest daughter is 2 weeks away from childbirth, which she will have to do in a hospital , so there is real reason for concern, I'm just doing my best to try to be helpful.
I on the other hand, while certainly not immune from worry, or empathy for those who need help, was born believing things will be ok--especially if you work at it.
Find a project, make space in the barn for your Pool Table, even if is useable only 8-9 months a year..... that would be worth it, don't you think?
Posted by: Michael J. Perini | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 01:47 PM
A tall order indeed. In these times I vacillate between happiness and worry. I do not like this but, in retrospect, we do this constantly in our normal lives. The chasm is much wider now and that alone is unpleasant. Suicide is the coward's way out. Great post.
Posted by: Malcolm Leader | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 01:52 PM
"I discovered a large lump under my armpit. My mind immediately leapt to one word—cancer!—a word which was even more of a death sentence then than it is now."
In the USA, the five year survival rate is currently about 70%. As someone who has seen, biopsied, diagnosed, many cancers, your chances are pretty good. (Unless it is pancreas, etc.) Although the lockdown is devastating in denying early diagnosis and treatments at present.
Posted by: Trevor Johnson | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 02:14 PM
Thank you for that, may you live to 120.
Posted by: Richard Alan Fox | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 02:49 PM
I always thought that the double suicide pact was a shocking act of selfishness on his behalf. I suspect she didn’t feel as strongly about the situation as he did.
He was mourning the loss of old Europe, for want of a better expression. What would his wife know about this? His autobiography is full of elegiac grieving for a world that may or may not have existed. I found it a bit rich and gave up on it.
Joseph Roth felt much the same, as Zweig, and drank himself to death.
Also, I thought the thing that tipped Zweig over the edge was hearing the news of the suicide of his friend Toller (sp) in New York. However, I’m struggling to find a reference to this.
I’m only interested in him as a subject because he wrote the story that Letter from an Unknown Woman is based on, one of my all-time favourite movies.
Posted by: Andrew Lamb | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 03:20 PM
Lovely piece, Mike. And I can relate. I also had the lump-under-the-arm experience in my 20s. I was in nursing school at the time,
learning the full panoply of deadly afflictions, which predisposes one to a special kind of hypochondria. Additionally, I was acutely aware that my dad had died in his early 30s of Hodgkin's Disease, a cancer of the lymph nodes then largely untreatable. The cause of my lump was finally traced to the use of antiperspirants, but I had some uneasy weeks. I have heard catrastophizing called "awfulizing"--same idea. "it's awful, it's awful, it's awful."
Posted by: Bill Poole | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 05:50 PM
Hi, Mike add this: an old Australian bush poem to brighten your day http://www.cattlefacts.com.au/Poem%20Said%20Hanrahan.asp
Posted by: Bruce Hedge | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 06:00 PM
Seneca had something to say about needless worry.
With best regards.
Stephen
[Indeed....
https://www.brainpickings.org/2017/08/27/seneca-anxiety/
--Mike]
Posted by: Stephen S. Mack | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 06:20 PM
I’m a contrarian, can’t help it. So, my thinking is more like “if this thing is so bad, why are only three million people out of six billion infected?” Of course, I’m not stupid and I do follow the lockdown and protect myself. Still, despite my lack of outright anxiety, which I’m normally quite capable of, I must admit that I find myself not driving as fast as I usually do and less interested in some things I’m usually interested in. It took me three weeks to pick up a book again that I was reading quite happily until I went into self-isolation. So, I do know something is bugging me on a deeper level, despite my relativism. It being Spring definitely helps, though. Can’t imagine this happening as the weather turns dark and nasty. Also helps to have grown up during the Cold War, with instant demise constantly hovering over us. We learned to live with that...
Posted by: John | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 07:15 PM
As I understand it, humans are the only high order animal that can plan for future events in order to survive. With age, we apply more of our experience to possible outcomes and set parameters to lessen mistakes. In hyper-projecting, one can lose the effects that the tools of experience provide. I think it was Lao Tzu who said, “one must fumble with error to separate it from the truth. It is long as you don’t choose error hungrily because of it’s pleasanter taste.”
Posted by: Bob G. | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 07:16 PM
You're the only other person I've ever heard of who had cat scratch fever. I had it in 1957 when I was 7 years old. I was kept in the hospital for a few days at Mass General where I was poked and pricked and prodded and tested and I couldn't go ice-skating that winter because of the swollen gland in my groin.
As for worrying, my mother used to say think of all the things you ever worried about. Did they ever come true? And no, most of them did not. But still, we worry.
Posted by: Sara Piazza | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 10:08 PM
There is needless worry, but sometimes it's worse to try and do something to avoid what wories you.
In 455 BC, Aeschylus, the playwright known as the Father of Greek Tragedy, had been staying outdoors as much as he could on account of worrying about a prophecy that he would be killed by some sort of a falling object. He was said to have been killed by a tortoise which was dropped by an eagle.
Posted by: hugh crawford | Sunday, 03 May 2020 at 11:27 PM
I suppose Mike, that it is possible that we could pay more attention to the old aphorism:
"Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves."
In other words, by not consuming scant local resources merely because one can, the future will be more secure for our descendents.
Thar's gold in them thar hills, but maybe we should leave some for later.
etc..
Posted by: Stephen J | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 02:32 AM
At the moment I am reading David Quammen’s page turner Spillover. About all you need to know about zoonoses, the diseases that jump from animals to humans. Did not read anything about cat scratch fever but there is a lot to worry about. Most worrying is that we don’t know what to worry about. First published in 2013, but the most recent print contains a chapter on SARS-CoV-2.
Posted by: s.wolters | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 02:54 AM
Seems like calling it catastrophizing already puts a negative value on thinking about this rationally. If we had pondered (and by we, I mean he) had pondered the worst case scenarios initially as suggested, we would be in a radically better situation.
But we are still looking optimistically at something that doesn't have any good outcomes.
I should say for the most part I'm having a decent time. I have food and shelter and time to practice music. I'm a ER nurse but ironically jobs are scarce. Hospitals emptied out and I am between contracts. But for the most part I am calm.
But it's a catastrophy. So I'm not sure that judging catastrophizing as being somehow not appropriate makes sense.
It's like trying to look on the bright side of being in Poland during World War II. And the thing is, I'm sure there were plenty of bright sides and things to be happy about. And likewise, I value every positive human interaction I have these days. But I'm also aware of how fragile everything is right now.
Posted by: Paul McEvoy | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 06:22 AM
Don't watch, listen to, or read any news.
Their business seems to be catastrophizing EVERYTHING.
Posted by: JimF | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 07:47 AM
A collary to catastrophizing is "awfulizing" (as we call it in our family). It happens when you wake up in the middle of the night and start thinking about a worrisome issue and then toss and turn until dawn, building it into the ultimate catastrophe in your mind. Only to fall asleep and wake up at your usual time and wonder what all the fuss was about. Sleep lost for nothing!
The remedy for awfulizing is to recognize when you wake up at 3 AM, that the trap is there, that things are REALLY not as bad as they appear at that moment in the dark, and that you can just roll over and go back to sleep. It works for me.... most of the time.
Posted by: Richard Nugent | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 09:30 AM
In case of emergency, try this: https://miguelmarquezoutside.com/post/172822466253/in-case-of-emergency
But then, after realizing that it really is too late, go full bore and join the "End of the World Rehearsal Club" (all welcome). https://miguelmarquezoutside.com/post/171008271973/end-of-the-world-rehearsal-club
Posted by: Dave Sailer | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 12:01 PM
“The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one'.... (The man who first said that) was probably a coward.... He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he's intelligent. He simply doesn't mention them.” ― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
Posted by: Peter | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 01:15 PM
I let data provide me with insight about actions I need to take in these situations.
Posted by: Stephen Scharf | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 02:27 PM
Michael J. Fox, who has had his own battle with early-onset Parkinson's Disease for many years, has a great philosophy about worrying. I'm paraphrasing here, but it goes something like this: He says he never worries about what might happen ahead of time. He figures if something bad is going to happen, he'll worry about it when it's a reality. This way he saves himself from the possible stress of worrying about it twice (both before and during.)
And a favorite line of mine, from a song by one of the great poets of our time, Tom Petty: "Most things I worry about never happen anyway."
Posted by: Tom Hassler | Monday, 04 May 2020 at 02:56 PM
There might be some truth to what you write about Zweig, but he did take his own life in 1942, before the world came to know the detailed fate of millions of European Jews, Romani and other so-called 'non-Aryans'. He was 60 when he died, and it is doubtful he would have lived until 1990s, when he would have been nearly 100 years old, when Germany did indeed emerge from its memory of the war as well as its (and Europe's) prospect of a nuclear holocaust. So I don't know if the collective sadness would have left him, perhaps even would have hurt him more than it did when he had ended his life.
Posted by: Animesh Ray | Tuesday, 05 May 2020 at 08:55 PM
Gone through it once in 2003 (SARS) and this is the second round. Given the northern country way of governance, I would expect a third times before I kick the can if I were lucky.
Posted by: Dennis Ng | Tuesday, 05 May 2020 at 11:00 PM
Really this a crucial moment as a product photographer I'm upset. Thanks for sharing it
Posted by: MR Karim Reza | Wednesday, 06 May 2020 at 12:42 PM