When Good Intentions Hurt the Anxious Mind
Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
— Ephesians 4:32
For those of us who live with mental health disorders, our brains do not always process life the way other people expect them to. We are all different, and not everyone understands how another person’s mind and nervous system work, even when they genuinely care. Sometimes the people we love most can hurt us unintentionally, not because they are bad, but because they do not know what to say in a moment that is intense, tender, or complicated. When life stacks up fast and heavy, the mind can flip into protection mode before we even realize it. That can look like urgency, intensity, and a flood of “what if” thoughts. Catastrophizing is when the mind jumps to the worst-case ending and starts treating it like it is already true. It can feel exhausting. It can feel embarrassing. It can feel lonely. But it is also something we can learn to work with, not by pretending it does not exist, but by building skills, support, and a system that holds.
In my own life right now, I have three big things happening at once, and I live with bipolar disorder, adjustment disorder, and chronic PTSD. Under stress, I notice my mind doing what it learned to do to survive. It starts scanning for danger, running scenarios, and trying to predict outcomes. Sometimes I say things out loud that are not what I truly intend. It is like my brain has to move through noise before it can find the thread of reality again. I do not like that this is part of my process, but I have learned that naming it honestly is often the first step toward calming it. Shame makes the spiral louder. Honesty makes room for help.
This is where the Therapy Pillar matters in a very practical way. I believe God often provides healing through the hands of gifted clinicians, and therapy can be one way we steward the minds God gave us. My therapist and I have been working for about two years on learning how to recognize these patterns, slow them down, and reshape them.
Here is the part that surprised me. We have realized that what looks like catastrophizing can sometimes be a step in the process toward stability. Not because the catastrophic thoughts are true, they often are not. Not because I am choosing drama, I am not. But because my brain is trying to locate safety. It throws possibilities on the table, and then, with support and practice, it can finally land on what is real, what is controllable, and what the next best decision actually is.
When I say psychotherapy, I mean it the way physical therapy works for an injured shoulder. It is training. It is repetition. It is strengthening. It is learning a healthier pattern and practicing it until it becomes more natural. I am learning how to notice the spiral earlier, how to name it without shame, how to regulate my body while my mind is loud, and how to choose a grounded next step instead of a fear-driven reaction. And even with all that growth, there are still moments when my brain goes fast, loud, and extreme. That does not mean the work is failing. It means the work is real.
If the mind is loud right now, this is a simple reset that can help create a little space. Pause and take one slow breath in, then a longer breath out. Name what is happening without judging it: “My brain is catastrophizing.” Ask one anchoring question: “What is true right now, in this exact moment?” Then name the next faithful, controllable step, just one. It might be drinking water, stepping outside for sixty seconds, writing down the real facts, or texting a safe person to say, “My mind is spiraling, can you stay steady with me for a minute?” The goal is not to make every fear disappear. The goal is to come back to the present and choose the next wise step.
I am not a scientist, but I do believe there is a biological reason this happens. When the body thinks danger is near, the brain tries to protect us first and explain later. Logic is not always the first thing online. That is why the way people respond to us in these moments matters so much. Relationships can become part of healing, or part of harm.
Some people hear intensity and panic, and they try to shut it down. They label it. They say things like, “You’re all or nothing,” or “You go from zero to one hundred,” as if that observation is helpful in the moment. I want to say this plainly. That kind of response usually does not calm the brain. It can escalate it. It can trigger shame, defensiveness, and deeper dysregulation. It can injure the very relationship that could have been a safe place.
For those of us who struggle with mental illness, it helps to remember we are not “too much” because our brains get loud under stress. We are not failing because our first thoughts are extreme. Our job is not to become perfect. Our job is to keep doing the work, keep building skills, keep staying honest about where we are, and keep choosing support over isolation. Sometimes we will need to process out loud before we can make a stable decision. Sometimes we will need a few minutes of spiraling before we can find clarity again. If we are doing that work in therapy, that matters. That is growth, even when it is messy.
If we love someone who processes like this, we can be mindful without being clinically trained. We do not need a degree to be helpful. We need humility and kindness. When someone is processing, we do not have to fix them. We do not have to correct every sentence. We do not have to argue them into calm. Often the most powerful thing we can do is stay steady, listen, and speak safety into the moment.
A phrase that can help is simple and human: “I can tell your brain is in processing mode right now. I am here. We do not have to solve everything this minute. What is one true thing we know right now?” One time, hearing something like that slowed me down. It did not erase the stress, but it reduced the shame. It helped me stop sprinting toward the worst case and return to the facts in front of me.
At the same time, compassion goes both ways. When someone responds poorly, it does not always mean they are cruel. Sometimes they simply do not understand our brains. Sometimes they were never taught what to do with intensity. Sometimes their own anxiety takes over. We can set boundaries and still have compassion. We can say, “That hurt,” and also remember, “They are learning too.”
This is where the Faith Community Pillar matters, because it reminds us we are all human beings in process. None of us are perfect. Faith helps keep us grounded in the kind of people we want to be even when our nervous system is loud. And this is where Jesus meets me personally. When my mind is racing, I try to pray a simple sentence, even if it is shaky. “Lord, be near to me right now.” I have learned that God is not offended by my struggle. He is patient while my body calms down. He does not shame me for being human. He helps me take the next faithful step.
Scripture calls us to patience, even when things feel tense: “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love” (Ephesians 4:2). In practice, this can look like pausing before replying to a hard text, taking one slow breath, and asking God for gentleness so the next words do not come from panic or pride.
Scripture calls us to compassion, especially when someone is struggling: “Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble” (1 Peter 3:8). In practice, that might mean choosing curiosity over judgment, and saying, “Help me understand what this feels like for you,” instead of, “You’re overreacting.”
And Scripture calls us to forgiveness, because bitterness will poison us: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). Forgiveness does not mean pretending something did not hurt. It means releasing the desire to punish, and choosing a path that keeps the heart free, while still holding healthy boundaries.
If the mind has been stuck in worst-case mode lately, there is no shame in getting more support. Consider one next step that strengthens your system. That might mean reaching out to a licensed therapist, including a clinician who shares your faith. It might mean asking a trusted pastor or care leader about a care team, prayer support, or a small group where it is safe to be honest. It might mean choosing a simple Bible reading plan in a Scripture app that focuses on peace, anxiety, or God’s nearness, and using it as a daily anchor. If you are not sure where to start, begin close to home by telling one safe person, “I could use support, and I do not want to carry this alone.”
Here is the takeaway that ties it all together. Catastrophizing can feel like the mind is sprinting ahead of the heart, but it is often the brain searching for safety under stress. Therapy can help retrain the pattern and bring us back to what is true and controllable. Loved ones can help by staying steady and speaking safety instead of labeling intensity. And God meets us in it, not with shame, but with patience, compassion, and a next step. If the mind is loud today, the goal is not perfection. The goal is honesty, support, and one faithful step forward.
If this resonated, consider sharing it with someone who loves a person with a loud, anxious mind, or saving it for the next time the “what if” thoughts start to flood in. And if you want to keep building a steadier support system, choose one small step this week that strengthens your Therapy Pillar and your Faith Community Pillar, then tell one trusted person about it so you do not have to do it alone.
To learn more about my journey and the lessons I’ve gained along the way, I invite you to explore the rest of my writing and follow the ongoing work I share to support mental health, healing, and rehabilitation with hope. These lessons can be found on my Pillar Posts page.
