I can’t pretend to know the answers to this question, but I can offer a few insights via the Stoics.
In a nutshell, the Stoics believed that fear is an irrational emotion that arises from false beliefs about what is good or bad for us. We wrongly perceive an object or event as harmful, and thus come to fear it. Our misleading conclusions often result from unjustified expectations. We fret over remote possibilities and exaggerate their alleged consequences. Our exaggeration feeds our uncertainty, which feeds our proclivity for fearing the uncertain (i.e., the future)—hence fear.
Yet, the Stoics retained a staunch optimism: it’s possible to overcome fear by changing our beliefs and attitudes toward what we fear.
The first attitude the Stoics despise is unneeded anticipation, as it’s the most visible root of irrational fears. As Seneca wrote, "we suffer more often in imagination than in reality" (Letters from a Stoic, Letter 13). And a few sentences below,
The mind at times fashions for itself false shapes of evil when there are no signs that point to any evil; it twists into the worst construction some word of doubtful meaning; or it fancies some personal grudge to be more serious than it really is, considering not how angry the enemy is, but to what lengths he may go if he is angry. But life is not worth living, and there is no limit to our sorrows, if we indulge our fears to the greatest possible extent.
In other words, we ought to notice our projections and remind ourselves that they are just that; imaginative fancies with no real counterparts. Sometimes I find that my biggest “fears” are nothing but empty projections with which I try to capture an open future. I fear being a bad son and brother; losing my job; harming myself and others; and so on. Yet my fear does not provide the slightest inkling of evidence for believing that I’m presently being a bad person who’s justifiably worried about losing his job.
Why think about fear when there’s nothing in your immediate circumstances that’s provoking fear? Taming this impulse is way easier said than done. But the few times I’ve felt able to tame it, it’s made a huge difference, and fear often fled as quickly as it came.
On a similar note, Epictetus tells us that “it is not death or hardship that is a fearful thing, but the fear of hardship or death" (Discourses, 2.1). Hardship is inevitable; that’s something the Stoics emphasized regularly. Death marks the pinnacle of hardship. But if we ponder it closely, we realize that death itself is not particularly dreadful. Our concern about death stems from anticipating it—thinking about the end, and the people we’ll lose, and the sights we’ll forever abandon. The event itself is an event like any other, except that it’s the final one. What evokes unease and anxiety is our prediction of its occurrence. For the Stoics, fighting against this predictive impulse is an effective antidote against irrational fears, and thus a channel to tranquillity.
This commitment to avoiding unnecessary expectations follows closely from a second Stoic attitude: accepting what we cannot control and devoting our attention and efforts to what we can control. Epictetus famously remarked on the futility of concerning ourselves with what we cannot control. What should we do before the overwhelming array of possibilities that lie ahead? “Make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it occurs” (Discourses 1.1).
Crucially, the Stoics suggested that the only thing under our control is our mind; our thoughts and the actions they inspire. External events and circumstances (i.e., the weather, other people’s actions, etc.) are beyond our control. Only by focusing on what we can control, then, can we overcome our fears and achieve tranquility.
For example, I often find myself (and notice others) complaining about the weather. It’s been a harsh winter with loads of snow. Blankets of clouds have eclipsed the sun for months. Gloomy is the norm. But what could I ever change by inveighing against this abnormal season? Would cursing the clouds make me feel better? Not a bit. The result—gloomy weather—is the same. No amount of effort on my part will change it. Yet, coming to terms with the results is up to me. I can choose to fret incessantly about how bad I had it this year. Or I can wake up every day and strive to make the best out of my circumstances. Of course, I’ll fail. It won’t be as easy as saying “I can do it” out loud in front of the mirror. But if well-being is my aspiration, I better adopt the second option and keep trying.
Marcus Aurelius said that “If you are grieved about anything external, it’s not the thing itself that afflicts you, but your judgment about it; and it is in your power to correct this judgment and get quit of it” (Meditations 8.47). I’m not sure this is always the case. But sometimes it is. And even if it starts from something as small as practicing determination before stormy weather, this approach might eventually translate into a reflex, a habit, and an attitude that permeates every facet of our lives; from mundane trivialities to consequential events.
All that said, this is hard stuff. It’s not something we can assimilate into our daily endeavors after reading a few quotes once. It takes strenuous practice, disciplined meditations, and acute self-awareness. I’m way far from behaving like a Stoic. And I suspect the Stoics were quite far too. Yet, their words have given me solace and encouragement, and I hope they’ll do the same for you.
Further reading:
Letters from a Stoic, Seneca
Discourses, Epictetus
A Stoic Response to Fear, Daily Stoic
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