A World Record in Worrying (And I Think I Might Be Winning)
Yesterday, I became convinced I might have broken a world record.
Here are two more pieces you can dip into whenever it feels right:
Not for running.
Not for swimming.
Not for eating biscuits (though I will be honest, I could give the pros a run for their money there 🍪).
No, I think I may have achieved a personal best for the sheer number of worries, what-ifs, predictions, recollections, and entirely uninvited mental visitors entertained by one brain in a single day.
Now, before anyone rushes to hand me a trophy, I want to be clear: this isn’t because the worries weren’t real. Some absolutely were. Some related to people and things I care deeply about, and some carried enough weight to stop me right in my tracks.
If you're a fellow fretter, you already know that worries don't come neatly color coded with little labels saying “Important” and “Not Important.” When they’re bouncing around your head, they all feel urgent. They all step forward, waving their arms and shouting, “Me next!”
What stuck with me yesterday wasn't any particular worry. It was simply the astounding volume of them.
Because somehow, while doing perfectly ordinary everyday things, my brain was hosting a fully catered, three-day international conference of concerns. I could be making a cup of tea while simultaneously consulting the mental archives, over-analysing the present, and conducting a full structural safety inspection on about twelve different hypothetical scenarios.
The variety and the sheer stamina it took!
At one point, they were arriving faster than I could even hand out name tags. Some were brand new. Some were old favorites making a triumphant comeback tour. Others seemed to show up simply because there was a spare seat available.
And the domino effect? Phenomenal. We all know a single worry rarely travels alone—it arrives with friends, extended relatives, and an entire support team. One stray thought becomes three, three become seven, and before long, it's standing room only.
All of this is happening while you're emptying the washing machine or looking for the television remote.
If the Olympic committee ever introduces Mental Multitasking as an event, I suspect many of us would be serious medal contenders.
To most people, multitasking is answering an email while holding a conversation. Hah!
Then there are those of us simultaneously replaying an awkward conversation from six months ago, catastrophising about next week, unearthing a forgotten worry from yesterday, and drafting brand-new crises to stress over by the weekend.
And we’re doing all of this while unloading the dishwasher. That, my friends, is elite-level performance.
Don't get me wrong. I know how heavy it can get and how quickly it can knock the wind right out of you. It's not like I asked for this mental treadmill.
But sometimes—after the storm passes and the dust settles—I actually find myself weirdly fascinated by it all. When I look at the sheer volume of what my brain just managed to process while I was staring blankly into the fridge, I have to admit: the stamina is kind of impressive.
Because it is quite something.
You have to hand it to the human brain—it’s an overachiever. Exhausting, yes, but endlessly creative. Who knew an ordinary Wednesday could hold an entire ecosystem of thoughts? Or that your mind could log enough mental frequent flyer miles to circle the globe three times, all while you’re just sitting on the sofa?
If you’re reading this after one of those days—when your brain has spent hours leaping from one concern to the next, please know this: you're not alone.
When the mental gymnastics get a bit ridiculous, just pause for a second and ask:
"What world record am I attempting today?"
Because if your brain is currently juggling seventeen different imaginary scenarios while you try to remember why you walked into the kitchen, you might as well own it.
Just check your stopwatch. You might even be setting a new personal best.
Think of it like trying to parallel park a clown car while twelve different sat-navs are all shouting conflicting directions at top volume. You might not win a gold medal for calm, especially after the sixth attempt and ending up three feet from the kerb, but you definitely deserve a trophy for sheer passenger capacity.
The Comedy of Catastrophising: Why My Brain Writes Ridiculous Disaster Scripts
The Strange Logic of My Over-Achieving Brain: When Your Mind Turns Moths Into Monsters
Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all.
