Overcome Rumination and Imagined Fears: Stoic Practices for Everyday Life

We often cling to the belief that other people are the ones ruining our lives. It is a seductive narrative, but the truth is much harsher and harder to swallow: it’s our own imagined scenarios that break us. The future is merely a guess we haven't met yet, and the past is already gone, yet we spend the vast majority of our time stuck in the void between the two, mistakenly calling it “reality.”

The most common defense mechanism we deploy is the phrase, “They made me do it.” Today, let’s drop that excuse entirely. What follows might feel uncomfortable at times—it might sting a little—but it serves a specific purpose: it can either harden you or force you to stop lying to yourself.

Control Is Not Power—It’s Clarity

Many people mistakenly believe that control means having power over everything in their environment. It doesn’t. Real control is knowing exactly what is yours to handle and what isn’t. The ancient Stoic Epictetus put it simply: we cannot control the wind, but we can adjust the sails. When we try to manage things that are biologically and physically beyond our reach, we crack under the pressure. However, when we focus only on what we can influence, we become free.

Modern psychology backs this ancient wisdom up with hard data. Julian Rotter described the concept of the locus of control. People with an internal locus—those who see themselves as the primary source of influence in their own lives—statistically experience less anxiety, greater resilience, and better outcomes overall. Conversely, those with an external locus view themselves as victims of circumstance.

Every time you say, “He made me angry,” “She broke me,” or “They forced me,” you are voluntarily handing over the steering wheel of your life. You allow someone else’s mood or actions to steer your day. In that moment, you become a puppet. True strength begins the moment you stop explaining your life with external reasons and start owning your reactions.

The Future Is Not Real—It’s a Fantasy

Seneca once wrote that we suffer more in our imagination than in reality. This is not just philosophical musing; it is biological fact. Our brains do not fully distinguish between a real, tangible threat and an imagined one. When you replay a frightening scenario in your head, your body reacts as if it is physically happening right now: cortisol levels rise, your heart races, and your breathing shortens.

Robert Sapolsky’s extensive research on stress demonstrates this clearly—an imagined danger triggers the exact same physical stress response as a real one. We prepare our bodies for battles that may never come, and in doing so, we exhaust the energy we need for the life we actually have.

Marcus Aurelius advised a potent antidote: don’t let the future disturb you—you will meet it with the same mind and weapons you use to meet the present. You have already survived every difficult day you have ever lived through. The fact that you are reading this proves you made it through losses, chaos, and pain. So why doubt you will handle tomorrow? The future is a hypothesis. You, the person who has already endured, are a fact.

The Past Is Ashes—Stop Breathing Them In

Marcus Aurelius also noted that we only ever live in the present moment—everything else is either gone or not yet here. Yet, many of us keep replaying old scenes we cannot change, looping them like a broken film reel: “I should have done this,” or “If only I had said that.”

Psychologists call this rumination—the act of repetitively going over past events. Research indicates it is directly linked to distinctively higher rates of depression and robs people of their ability to see new possibilities. It paralyzes problem-solving skills.

The Stoics didn’t suggest forgetting the past or pretending it didn’t hurt. They suggested reframing it—not as a disaster that defines you, but as raw material for growth. Painful experiences do not have to be chains; they can become your foundation if you choose to use them that way.

The Present Is the Only Place Life Actually Happens

Everything that is truly yours exists right now, in this fleeting moment. When we live in the future, we feel anxious. When we live in the past, we feel sad. When we stay in the present, we finally breathe.

This isn’t just poetic advice. Being present reduces activity in the brain’s fear center (the amygdala) and increases activity in the prefrontal cortex—the area responsible for clear thinking, emotional regulation, and decision-making. Marcus Aurelius said it is not what happens to you that matters, but how you interpret it. The world is not required to be comfortable, but you can choose to be steady. Resilience isn’t the absence of pain—it’s refusing to fall apart while the pain is there.

What to Do When Everything Feels Like It’s Falling Apart

When life seems to collapse around you, pause and ask one simple question: What part of this can I actually control?

If you can act—act. If you can’t—accept. Acceptance is not defeat; it is maturity. The Stoic practice of focusing on "what is up to us" mirrors modern cognitive behavioral therapy: there is always a small space between an event and your reaction. The more you train, the wider that space becomes—and in that space lies your freedom. Being betrayed is a fact. Choosing to remain a victim or to grow from it is your decision.

Daily Practices That Actually Work

• Face reality instead of running from it. Denial only delays the suffering; confronting it builds callousness and strength.
• Remember the boundaries of your control. Do not waste energy fighting battles that aren't yours to fight.
• Treat every difficulty as material for growth. Ask yourself: "What does this situation demand of me?"
• Return to the present moment. Notice physical sensations—the smell of coffee, the rhythm of your breath, the warmth of sunlight—to ground yourself when the mind wanders.
• Feel your emotions without suppressing them. Acknowledge them as signals, not enemies, and then let them pass.

A Story of Quiet Change

There was a man named Alex—young, capable, but constantly drained. Endless deadlines and pressure wore him down. One day he came across some reflections written by Marcus Aurelius and recognized himself in words written two thousand years earlier.

He began reading them each evening—not as motivation, but as a mirror. Over time he stopped snapping at colleagues. He grew quieter, but it was a deep kind of quiet. The stress didn’t disappear entirely, but it stopped controlling him. A year later he realized the external circumstances hadn’t changed much—what changed was him. And that changed everything.

The Choice Is Always Yours

You can keep explaining why things are the way they are, or you can look yourself in the eye and decide: enough. From now on, I drive. No one else will save you from yourself. Either you take the wheel, or you keep waiting for the storm to pass on its own.

References

• Rotter, J. B. (1966). Generalized expectancies for internal versus external control of reinforcement. Psychological Monographs: General and Applied, 80(1), 1–28.
  This foundational paper introduced the concept of internal vs. external locus of control and showed that an internal locus is associated with lower anxiety, higher resilience, and better life outcomes.
• Nolen-Hoeksema, S., Wisco, B. E., & Lyubomirsky, S. (2008). Rethinking rumination. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 3(5), 400–424.
  This review explains how repetitive focus on past negative events (rumination) prolongs and deepens depression.
• Sapolsky, R. M. (2004). Why zebras don't get ulcers (3rd ed.). New York: Holt Paperbacks.
  The book details how anticipated or imagined threats trigger the same stress response (elevated cortisol, faster heart rate) as actual dangers, causing unnecessary physical and emotional wear.