Some fleshy trivia to feast on:

Did you know some body parts are redundant?

Take wisdom teeth. My extensive research on Google tells me that back in the days of cave dwellers and mammoth chasers, wisdom teeth were useful for grinding tough plants and chewing raw meat.

Nowadays we're not gnawing raw meat quite so much.

The tailbone is another example. Tailbones are long lost remnants from when our ancestors had tails. 

Another redundant body part?

The male nipple. As far as science can tell, nipples serve no purpose for men.

So far, so good.

But get this:

Worry is exactly the same. 

Your worry, my worry and everyone else’s worry is redundant. It serves no purpose.

This might seem like an off-the-wall statement, but let’s consider the evidence:

1. Does worrying help us prepare for when disaster strikes?

Well, I don’t think it does. I’m not saying we don’t need to prepare sometimes. But what I'm saying is that preparation doesn’t require worry, nor is it aided by worry. If anything, I prepare better when I'm thinking clearly, not worrying.

2. Does worrying stop disaster from striking in the first place? Is it preventative in some way?

Well, how would that work? Worrying is just repetitive thinking. As far as I can see, there’s no mechanism linking what happens in my head with what happens in the world. Worrying about whether I’ll miss my flight has no bearing on whether I will.

3. Does worrying show we’re a responsible, selfless, loving, caring human?

I don’t see the link here either. 

Somewhere along the way, we've confused caring with anxious thinking.

In fact, when I cast my mind back to some of my biggest worries, I can see how my worry was really all about me (i.e. my own fears or need to be in control), even if I told myself I was worrying about someone else. 

4. Does worrying motivate us to take action?

Sure, it can do. I’ll give you this one. 

But what if it didn’t need to? What if we could live our lives from a place of inspired, aligned and authentic action, rather than using worry as our compass? Wouldn’t that be a more peaceful way to go through life? Wouldn’t that make worry redundant too?

(by the way – if I’ve missed a reason why worry isn’t redundant, hit reply and let me know)

If someone had told me three or four years ago that my constant fretting was redundant, self-defeating or just my ego talking, I would’ve felt REALLY misunderstood. Tough love like that might’ve come across as dismissive or out of touch too.

Yet here I am, three or four years later, with my worry at an all-time low.

Not at zero, mind you. 

But night and day vs how it used to be. 

And I can honestly say the biggest thing that’s allowed me to turn down the dial on my own catastrophising and self-doubt is realising my worry is surplus to requirements. 

In fact, the only difference between my left nipple and my worry (apart from one being a body part and the other being an emotion) is this:

I was born with my left nipple. But I wasn’t born with my worry.

No-one is born with worry.

Worry is a behaviour we learn as we start creating stories and attach meaning to random events. Scroll up and you’ll see four of these stories in action.

The good news is what’s learnt can be unlearnt. What’s been added can also be subtracted.

If you’d like to get started, nip over here:

https://waitinglist.followingfulfilment.com

To fulfilment,

Tom