If you asked me about the most valuable mental shift I’ve had in the past few years, I’d say this:

Everything will be okay — because I trust myself to figure it out.

That second part is the difference.

I’ve had my fair share of anxieties. I grew up in an unstable household where worrying felt like survival. It helped me anticipate a volatile parent’s moods and hustle through rough financial stretches.

So when friends told me, “It’ll be okay,” I couldn’t trust it. How would they know? It wasn’t okay the last time my parents’ income collapsed. It wasn’t okay when I couldn’t afford health insurance or a doctor’s visit.

Until recently, even small things could kick up that old survival script. If a logistical detail wasn’t nailed down, I’d spin: overplan, overoptimize, overthink. That pattern took a long time to see clearly, and it still shows up.

Today, though, I noticed the shift.

I’m traveling for work and need a hotel approved. My manager was OOO; now it’s the weekend; I have to check in tomorrow. This same thing happened a few days ago—by the time approval came through, the room was gone. My mind wants to spiral: Am I annoying my manager by following up? Getting on his bad side? Will he say it’s too expensive?

None of that actually matters.

I’ve learned to cut the thoughts closer to the root. I frame two things: the next step and the worst case. What’s in my control?

• Next step: text him again to ask for approval.
• Worst case: book the hotel on my own card.
• Worst-worst case: I pay out of pocket. Unlikely, but survivable.

There’s a quiet confidence there. I don’t need to plan every contingency, write imaginary defenses, or rehearse pretend conversations. That urge is just the old habit reaching for control.

A coach once mirrored my life back to me: in every tough situation, I found a way. Things worked out—not perfectly, but enough. Naming that ability to adapt changed the way I move.

We don’t need to architect every detail to be safe.

It feels like learning to dance with the universe. I still stumble. But I can move with unideal circumstances and treat them as part of the choreography, not proof that I’m in danger.

Rarely do things work out exactly as imagined. Often, they work out just fine.

When we trust ourselves to adapt when needed, we spare ourselves so much unnecessary suffering—and all the vain imaginings that pull us out of the present.