By this time tomorrow, we’ll know one of the two teams competing in the World Cup Final. For now, it’s all speculation. And conjecture. And bias after favoritism shrouded as expertise about what is going to happen. But we don’t really know anything, do we? I mean, if we really think about it, we can’t even guarantee the semifinal games will even be played. We expect them. We plan for them. But we just cannot predict the future. And that is terrifying to me.
One of the recurring topics which comes up in therapy for me is this lack of control over the future. There are things we can control, things we can try to control, and then there are things we didn’t even think about trying to control. And probably couldn’t if we tried. This year’s World Cup matches have been a great example of preparing for the expected and getting continually surprised by the outcomes. Morocco in the Final? After seeing how they defended against both Spain and Portugal, it’s definitely not impossible. And if you told me that over the summer, I definitely would have questioned your mental stability. Yet, here we are. But let’s look at a few other examples of where this constant uncertainty causes me anxiety, shall we?
Earthquakes. Now, I grew up in Florida, and the most common natural disaster we see there is hurricanes. And we get to see those coming from miles away. Literally. So, we stock up on supplies, make sure there’s gas in the car, and move all the lawn furniture off the pool deck to settle in for a few days without power. With earthquakes, though, your survival kit needs to be at the ready all the time because there’s no telling when one will hit. You can control the prep, but you can’t control the prediction. And that makes me feel helpless.
These two examples are big, and could change the lives of thousands — maybe millions — of people. But unpredictability can happen at a moment’s notice, and just to you. Let’s say you’re biking to work tomorrow morning. You have on all your safety gear: helmet, flashing lights, reflective neon vest. You’re obeying every law, taking the safest route, and watching out for any hazards. But there’s still the off chance that a distracted driver could unknowingly drift into the bike lane and change your life forever. When I think about this, it’s terrifying. But I can’t live my life that way, can I? None of us can. We’d never leave the house. Or shower. Or eat anything which we may choke on. We can’t eliminate all risk, but we can minimize and prepare for a lot of it. And I’m trying to get comfortable with that.
Basically, this is a handful of paragraphs which could have been more succinctly put like this: Nobody knows anything. Instead of dreading that, thought I’m trying to embrace it. We’re having some uncertainty at work right now, too, and I think that may be amplifying my already heightened anxiety. But I’m trying to get more comfortable with the discomfort, telling myself I’ve never learned anything new from my comfort zone. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of convincing myself of that that, though. I’ll keep trying.
Superunknown
12 December 2022
Window addressing.
By this time tomorrow, we’ll know one of the two teams competing in the World Cup Final. For now, it’s all speculation. And conjecture. And bias after favoritism shrouded as expertise about what is going to happen. But we don’t really know anything, do we? I mean, if we really think about it, we can’t even guarantee the semifinal games will even be played. We expect them. We plan for them. But we just cannot predict the future. And that is terrifying to me.
One of the recurring topics which comes up in therapy for me is this lack of control over the future. There are things we can control, things we can try to control, and then there are things we didn’t even think about trying to control. And probably couldn’t if we tried. This year’s World Cup matches have been a great example of preparing for the expected and getting continually surprised by the outcomes. Morocco in the Final? After seeing how they defended against both Spain and Portugal, it’s definitely not impossible. And if you told me that over the summer, I definitely would have questioned your mental stability. Yet, here we are. But let’s look at a few other examples of where this constant uncertainty causes me anxiety, shall we?
Earthquakes. Now, I grew up in Florida, and the most common natural disaster we see there is hurricanes. And we get to see those coming from miles away. Literally. So, we stock up on supplies, make sure there’s gas in the car, and move all the lawn furniture off the pool deck to settle in for a few days without power. With earthquakes, though, your survival kit needs to be at the ready all the time because there’s no telling when one will hit. You can control the prep, but you can’t control the prediction. And that makes me feel helpless.
These two examples are big, and could change the lives of thousands — maybe millions — of people. But unpredictability can happen at a moment’s notice, and just to you. Let’s say you’re biking to work tomorrow morning. You have on all your safety gear: helmet, flashing lights, reflective neon vest. You’re obeying every law, taking the safest route, and watching out for any hazards. But there’s still the off chance that a distracted driver could unknowingly drift into the bike lane and change your life forever. When I think about this, it’s terrifying. But I can’t live my life that way, can I? None of us can. We’d never leave the house. Or shower. Or eat anything which we may choke on. We can’t eliminate all risk, but we can minimize and prepare for a lot of it. And I’m trying to get comfortable with that.
Basically, this is a handful of paragraphs which could have been more succinctly put like this: Nobody knows anything. Instead of dreading that, thought I’m trying to embrace it. We’re having some uncertainty at work right now, too, and I think that may be amplifying my already heightened anxiety. But I’m trying to get more comfortable with the discomfort, telling myself I’ve never learned anything new from my comfort zone. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of convincing myself of that that, though. I’ll keep trying.
See you tomorrow?