Rewriting the Future: Why We Need Positive Stories

“Positive versions of future stories only, please.”

That’s what I told myself as I unfolded my 2025 goal list. It was supposed to be a moment of clarity, of setting intentions for the year ahead. One of the goals I’d written down was simple: visit family.

At first, I thought, “Yeah, that’s a good one. It’s something I really want.” But then my brain—doing what it does best—took a sharp left turn into disaster-ville.

When Your Brain Thinks It’s Helping

Within minutes, I was spiraling. My brain was sure I’d end up evicted, homeless, and on the road with my kid, trying to piece together a life with no home, no bedroom, and no sense of stability.

Then it threw in my car for good measure. “You can’t drive an old car all over the country,” it told me. “Maybe you could give it to your mom since she needs one.” But even that didn’t feel good. My mom drives cars until their last breath, and suddenly, I was picturing my car in some kind of hospice, waiting to die.

Here’s the thing: My brain wasn’t trying to ruin my day. It was trying to prepare me. Somewhere deep in its wiring, it thought it was being helpful, running these worst-case scenarios to figure out how I might handle them if they ever happened.

And I get it—this is probably a survival mechanism. Imagining the worst and planning for it is how we’ve managed to adapt to tough situations throughout history. But while it’s well-intentioned, it’s also exhausting and, in most cases, unnecessary.

Hitting Pause on the Spiral

That’s when I stopped myself and said:

“Positive versions of these future stories only, please.”

I won’t lie; it felt weird. For a second, it was like chewing broken glass—so uncomfortable it made me laugh. But I needed that laugh because it reminded me: Why am I doing this to myself?

Why do any of us do this? Why do we let our brains drag us through every terrible what if scenario like it’s an obligation? Especially when history tells us most of those scenarios never actually happen.

Recognizing the Fear Beneath It

When I thought about it, I realized these spirals are all about one thing: fear of the unknown. My brain doesn’t like not knowing what’s next, so it tries to fill in the blanks. And instead of filling them with neutral or hopeful possibilities, it paints everything in the darkest colors it can find.

But here’s the thing: I’ve been through enough to know that dark futures aren’t the whole story.

• We’ve been through tough times.

• We’ve faced loss, uncertainty, and even indignity.

• And we’ve always found a way forward—together.

The truth is, our brains think that imagining the worst will somehow protect us from being blindsided. It’s like they’re saying, “Hey, if you can handle this in your head, you’ll be ready for anything.”

But the problem is, living in those dark futures—even mentally—takes a toll. It drains your energy, saps your hope, and keeps you from seeing the opportunities right in front of you.

Rewriting the Script

Here’s what I’ve learned: Letting your brain run wild with worst-case scenarios doesn’t actually prepare you. It just makes you miserable.

What does help is stepping in and reminding yourself:

• The unknown isn’t automatically bad.

• Your track record is proof that you can handle hard things.

• You don’t need to live through every possible disaster in your head to be ready for the future.

When I catch myself spiraling, I remind my brain that I hear it. “Thanks for trying to help,” I say. “But I don’t need to imagine all of this right now. Let’s focus on what’s actually in front of us.”

Choosing Hope Over Fear

Now, when I look at that goal—visit family—I remind myself why it matters. It’s not about fear or loss; it’s about connection. It’s about showing up for the people I love, no matter what else is happening.

And when my brain starts to veer off into a parade of disasters, I gently steer it back. “Positive versions of future stories only, please,” I tell myself again.

Because here’s the truth: we can’t control the future, but we can control how we think about it. We can choose stories that energize us, remind us of our resilience, and give us the courage to keep moving forward—even into the unknown.

So if your brain tends to spiral like mine does, take a moment to hit pause. Recognize that it’s trying to help, thank it for its effort, and then rewrite the story. You don’t have to chew broken glass to prepare for the future.

Let’s choose hope instead.