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This past week I caught myself mentally rehearsing a conversation that might happen later in a recovery meeting. The interaction itself had not happened. There was a decent chance it would not happen at all.
But that didn’t stop my mind from building the whole thing anyway.
Within seconds, I had left the moment I was actually in and moved into a conversation that existed only in my head. I could hear the tone. I knew what they might say. I had my responses ready.
What caught my attention was how real it felt in my body. I could feel irritation building. Defensiveness too. A little anger starting to rise over something that had not actually happened.
No one had said anything to me. No one was even in the room. I was standing in my kitchen alone, already agitated by a conversation that had not happened.
That still amazes me sometimes. Not because I think I should be past this, but because of how fast it can happen.
One small possibility was enough, and my mind was off and running. It started filling in blanks, guessing what might be said, and trying to get ready for something that had not even happened.
Underneath all of that, I think, was a very human hope: if I could prepare enough in my head, maybe I would not be caught off guard later. Maybe I could stay calm and say the right thing. Maybe I could avoid feeling hurt, frustrated, embarrassed, or unsettled.
But while all of that was happening in my head, the actual day was still happening around me. The room I was standing in. The sounds in the house. Real life that had nothing to do with the conversation I was mentally preparing for.
Instead of living the day I was in, I had started living in a future version of the day that might never happen.
I used to call this overthinking. Or preparing. Or being responsible.
Now I can see there was fear mixed in too. Not dramatic fear. Just the everyday discomfort of not knowing how something is going to go and wanting very badly to get ahead of it.
The strange thing is that life almost never follows the script my mind writes anyway. Sometimes the conversation goes differently. Sometimes it turns out to be nothing. Sometimes it never happens.
Meanwhile, I’ve spent part of my day reacting to a story I made up in my own head.
There’s something humbling about seeing that clearly, especially when the possible conversation was in a recovery meeting room, where I spend so much time talking about presence, honesty, mindfulness, and staying grounded.
Maybe that’s part of the work for me now. Catching it sooner. Realizing I’ve wandered into a future that doesn’t even exist yet, and coming back before I lose the whole day there.
