Let the Intrusive Thoughts Win // Variant Perception #55

We all know those unwanted intrusive thoughts that ambush our minds without warning. The ones that prey on our worst fears and often leave us wondering, "Why am I thinking of this horrible thing? What's wrong with me?"

C’mon don’t lie I know you think them too.

For years, I ignored these thoughts when they came, often ashamed of their intrusion. Becoming a parent only amplified the opportunity for more fears to bubble up about my son's safety and my family's well-being. Then, in a moment of inspiration, I asked myself a different question: "What else can I do with these thoughts other than try to ignore them?"

In this inquiry I recognized these thoughts as fierce reminders of what matters most. When that gut-wrenching fear of losing my son surfaces, it's actually showing me the depth of my love for him. These thoughts push me into remembering how precious each moment with him truly is.

Our deepest fears reveal our deepest loves. When these thoughts surface they're actually highlighting what matters most to me.

What I fear most indicates what I love most. And feeling that fear, the fear of losing my son or my wife or my own health, actually brings me closer to life.

That big feeling of fear pops me into the present moment. It's my fuel I bring with me to cherish life even more. Love and fear are tied together. After all, we only grieve what we love.

The other day I was on my morning walk and the thought popped in of losing Hawk. I had just heard a story of a toddler around Hawk's age drowning. I can't imagine the heartwrench of that experience. Just thinking of it creates really big emotion in my body. But it's these thoughts that I now use as a fuel source for presence.

That night when I was putting Hawk to sleep I held him and loved him fully. No distractions, no thinking about all the other responsibilities in my life. Because I know that the alternative, the reality of that intrusive thought materializing, is real. The chance of it isn't zero. I pray it never happens but if it did I wouldn't want to miss one minute with my son with my heart and mind elsewhere.

This revelation has transformed how I view these challenging thoughts. Instead of fighting them, I've learned to use them as compass points, directing me toward what truly matters in my life. They've become unexpected guides to deeper presence and appreciation.

The raw material of life isn't always pleasant. And that's ok. These moments with Hawk taught me something profound about our darkest thoughts. Each intrusive thought, however unsettling, carries within it a hidden gift: a fierce reminder of what we hold most precious.

You might recognize some of these thoughts in your own life:

What if I left the gas stove burning and return to find my house reduced to ashes?

What if I freeze up during my presentation and don’t get the promotion I've worked towards for three years?

What if I miss a note while performing and can’t remember the song as everyone watches?

What if I'm on a rainy drive home and crash?

Each of these fears, when examined closely, points to something in our lige we deeply value that maybe needs more presence.

That fear about your house burning down? It reveals how much you value the home you've created and the safety it provides your family.

That anxiety about freezing during your presentation? It shows how much you value performing well at work and maintaining others' trust in your capabilities.

That fear of missing notes during a performance? It points to your deep commitment to excellence and the desire to be recognized.

That fear of a car crash on a rainy night? It highlights how much you value your life and the people waiting for you at home.

Intrusive thoughts are often negative expressions of positive values.

Maybe it's an evolutionary adaptation. Maybe it's a family neurosis that kept your lineage going. The how doesn't really matter.

The why does. And that's what you get to control.

This isn't about merely tolerating these thoughts. It's about learning to see them as signposts pointing toward what we cherish most. When we understand this, we can use even our darkest thoughts as catalysts for deeper presence and appreciation in our lives.

Of course, when these thoughts become overwhelming professional help is essential. But for most of us, these unwanted visitors can become unexpected guides.

What begins as a point of shame can transform into a beacon, illuminating what deserves our deepest attention and appreciation. In my case, those painful thoughts about losing my son have become reminders to hold him closer, love him fuller, and live more completely in each precious moment we share.