When I talk with clients about worry, we often come to the same conclusion: most worry is not particularly useful.

Worry tends to be the mind’s attempt to prepare for danger by imagining a future catastrophe that usually never arrives. We spend precious emotional energy rehearsing painful scenarios, only to discover that reality unfolds quite differently. In that sense, chronic worry can feel like a wasted life—one foot stuck in an imagined future instead of fully living in the present.

In therapy, I often encourage clients to become curious about their worries rather than simply trying to eliminate them. Beneath the surface of worry is usually a deeper fear: I am worthless. I am a failure. I won’t get what I need. Someone wants to hurt me. I won’t be able to cope.

Once we identify the underlying belief, we can examine it using tools such as thought records and cognitive restructuring. Is this thought accurate? Is it a distortion? Is it worth investing our emotional energy in?

While worry can provide valuable information about what matters to us, I was recently reminded that it may have something more to offer.

While reading Reasons Not to Worry: How to Be Stoic in Chaotic Times by Brigid Delaney, I was intrigued by how the ancient Stoics approached uncertainty.

The Stoics did not simply try to avoid worrying. In fact, they sometimes planned for it.

One of the central ideas in Stoicism is that peace of mind comes from focusing on what is within our control and letting go of what is not. Many people assume that being stoic means suppressing emotions, but that is a misunderstanding. The Stoics were deeply interested in emotions and human suffering. Their goal was not to eliminate feelings but to avoid becoming enslaved by them.

One Stoic practice was called premeditatio malorum, or “the premeditation of evils.” The Stoics would intentionally imagine a possible future difficulty and mentally rehearse how they would respond if it occurred. They would picture themselves walking through the challenge, drawing on their strengths, using available resources, seeking support, and eventually emerging on the other side.

This approach transforms worry from a helpless prediction into a resilience-building exercise.

Fear often loses some of its power when we realize that even if the worst happened, we would find ways to endure it.

That said, the Stoics often imagined very serious losses and hardships. I am not convinced that everyone benefits from dwelling on worst-case scenarios. For some people, especially those who struggle with anxiety, that approach may simply become another form of rumination.

However, when I combine Stoic thinking with breathwork and modern therapeutic approaches, I arrive at a practical exercise that many people find helpful when managing worry.

A Practical Exercise for Managing Worry

If you have a persistent worry about a past or future event, try the following:

1. Find a quiet space where you can be alone for a few minutes.
2. Gently bring the worry to mind and allow your anxiety to rise to a manageable level—perhaps a 4 or 5 out of 10.
3. Begin taking slow, deep belly breaths, allowing your body to settle.
4. Use balancing thoughts that feel believable to you:
   • “That is not happening right now.”
   • “That event is over.”
   • “That outcome is unlikely.”
   • “I am safe in this moment.”
5. Then add a Stoic perspective:
   • “Even if that did happen, it would be difficult, but I would get through it.”
6. Spend a few moments imagining how you would cope. What strengths would you use? Who would support you? What practical steps would you take? Imagine yourself moving through the challenge and eventually emerging on the other side.
7. Now use your self-calming skills to bring your anxiety all the way back down to a 0 out of 10.
8. Then deliberately bring the worry back and raise your anxiety to a 4 or 5 again. Practice calming yourself back to a 0.

Repeat this process several times. Each repetition teaches your nervous system an important lesson: anxiety rises, but it also falls. You are not trapped in it, and you have the ability to influence your emotional state.

Notice how this shifts the conversation. Instead of asking, “What if something terrible happens?” you begin asking, “How would I handle it if it did?”

The goal is not blind optimism.

The goal is confidence in your ability to cope.

Building New Habits Around Worry

Interestingly, this idea connects to a principle discussed in the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. Clear argues that changing habits is often easier when we add a new behaviour to an existing habit rather than trying to eliminate the old habit altogether. He calls this process habit stacking.

Rather than trying to stop worrying—a strategy that rarely works—you can attach a new response to the worry. Every time the worry appears, it becomes a cue to practice breathwork, balanced thinking, Stoic resilience, and nervous system regulation.

Over time, the old habit of worry becomes linked with a new habit of self-soothing and self-trust.

Perhaps Worry Is Neither Friend Nor Foe

Perhaps worry is neither friend nor foe.

Perhaps it is a messenger.

We do not have to believe everything it tells us. We do not have to follow it wherever it leads. But we can listen for the information it carries, challenge what is not true, and then add something new: the reminder that we are often far more capable than fear would have us believe.

The next time worry knocks on your door, you do not necessarily have to slam the door shut. You might simply invite it in long enough to hear what it has to say, calm your body, remember your strengths, and remind yourself that whatever comes, you will find your way through it.