What's the Worst that Can Happen?

This may come as a shock, but I am a pessimist. I always assume the worst possible outcome will happen (the Broncos will lose, my book will never be published, the plane I'm on will crash), and I'm stupefied when my predictions are wrong. With the exception of plane crashes (so far) and the donks two Super Bowl victories, I think I'm usually right about these things, to a certain degree.

My mother spent my entire childhood battling my negative tendencies. As the queen of positive thinking, she wanted desperately to instill in me a sense of optimism and self-worth. Well she failed miserably.

Though not as passionate about staying positive, Steph tends to dismiss my predictions of despair and demise as needless worry, though she herself is often plagued with a similar perdition. Recently she picked up the book, "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living", a book that claims to reveal time-tested methods for conquering worry. In it, the author tells his reader's to use the following formula when faced with worry-

1) Ask yourself, "What is the worse that could possible happen?"
2) Prepare to accept this outcome if you have to.
3) Calmly proceed to improve on the worst. (or in other words, imagine yourself moving on from this terrible calamity that makes you fret so, and even gaining from the experience).

Since learning of this magic formula, I've started using it whenever I'm burdened by the fear of the future, and with great success. Well sort of. I do step one anyway. Steps 2 and 3 are complete bull shit, and in my opinion, impossible.

Currently I am applying the magic formula (step 1) to my worry that I will soon be fired. I don't want to go into all the details, but suffice it to say I screwed up and the bank is not pleased. But should I really be tossing this possible scenario around in my head all weekend long? I have to ask myself, "What's the worst that can happen?"

Well, First Bank could fire me, and I could get hit by a truck on my walk home from work. That would suck. But it's not very likely. I'm pretty good at spotting trucks and avoiding them.

How about this? First Bank fires me, and for weeks I fail at finding another job. Eventually, filled with self-loathing and disgust, I am forced to apply to McDonalds, the only place that will hire an unpublished writer with a Psych BA. Embarrassed by her husband and his lowly career aspirations, Steph divorces me, forcing me to move in with my brother and mother. Eventually the three of us move up to the shack my uncle lives in in Idledale, where I finally cross over from a semi-habitual drinker to full blown alcoholic, thus leading to my death from liver disease a few years later.

Of course, there's always the possibility I won't be fired. Perhaps, just perhaps, First Bank will find a way to forgive me, thus delaying my death by liver disease by at least a month or two. I'm crossing my fingers.