The Hours You Lose to Things That Already Forgot About You

On caring more than the situation deserves.

Last week, I got an email from a colleague. Polite enough. But there was one sentence in it. Just one. Something like "I thought we had agreed on this already."

I rehashed that sentence for three days.

Three. Full. Days.

I reread the email at least twelve times, looking for hidden meaning. I drafted four different replies in my head and discarded them all. I wondered if she was annoyed with me. I wondered if she’d talked to other people about it. I considered whether I should clarify, defend, or just move on. I considered whether moving on would look like I didn’t care. I considered whether caring this much was the actual problem.

By day three, I was exhausted. She, meanwhile, had almost certainly forgotten she’d written those words.

Do you do this too? If you subtly nodded in approval, here's the thought that helps me most:

Our brain still operates on ancient software. It hasn’t updated.

---

Why your nervous system overreacts

For most of human history, social tension could actually mean exclusion. Exclusion meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant danger. A tribe that turned on you was a death sentence. There were no "other tribes" down the road. There was no "starting fresh somewhere new."

So your nervous system learned something very logical: threats to belonging are threats to survival. Treat them accordingly.

This wiring helped keep our ancestors alive. It’s awesome. It’s the reason we’re here.

But nowadays, the “threat” has turned into a delayed reply from someone, or one slightly cool sentence in an otherwise normal email.

And your brain still hits the same alarm button.

It doesn’t know the difference between a tiger in the bushes and a tense Zoom call.

So it catastrophizes. It insists this is urgent.

There’s something almost endearing about it. Your brain is trying to protect you. It just hasn't realized you live in 2026 and not 12,000 BC.

---

The reframe that helps me

When I catch myself spiraling, I sometimes pause and say: “Okay. What’s the actual threat here?”

And then:
“Not a tiger. Just an email.”

Sometimes I'll get more specific:

• "Not a tiger. Just a colleague who wrote that sentence in 30 seconds and moved on."

• "Not a tiger. Just one line out of an entire email that was otherwise fine."

• "Not a tiger. Just my own brain doing its overprotective ancestor thing."

That thought alone can lower the volume and make the situation feel proportionate again.

It doesn't make the discomfort magically disappear. But it gives me some healthy distance from it. Enough to keep living my day instead of losing three of them to one sentence.

Your brain may treat everything like life or death. But you don’t have to.

---

What's the most recent thing your brain decided was a tiger? Tell me in the comments. It helps to know we're all out here misreading our inboxes together👇🏼

---

If you've been spiraling about something for longer than the situation deserves, that's often when outside perspective makes the biggest difference. I work with a small number of 1:1 clients to help them deal with exactly this kind of noise. If that's you right now, here's how we'd start.

Liked this? Share it with one person whose brain also confuses emails for tigers. And if you're new here, subscribe for more reframes like this one, every Sunday ✨