One typical type of mental illness (which, of course, does not reveal itself as an illness to us because it is far too cunning for that) causes us to be constantly concerned about the future: bankruptcy, shame, physical collapse, and desertion.
What's poisonous about this form of worrying is that it picks up on true aspects of the present moment; it appears rational at first glance, but upon deeper inspection, it's evident that it isn't. There are always a few alarming things going on: there is some turbulence in the economy, things can go wrong with bodies, reputations rise and fall... but the duration, scale, and repetitiveness of our worries should eventually alert us to the peculiarity of our situation: we should learn to see that we are essentially worried all the time about something.
The focus may change, but our fear about our own existence remains constant. In such cases, a therapist can provide a very beneficial intervention by pointing out that the way we worry about the future is actually telling us a lot about our history. We're scared right now in a way that reminds us of the terror we felt as children; we're facing the challenges of adulthood with the defenceless panic of the child we used to be. In the process, we are exchanging the agony of remembering the painful past for a sense of foreboding about the future; the disaster we fear will occur has already occurred.
We project our memories ahead, where they greet us as apprehensions of what is still to come, rather than identifying themselves as legacies of uncontrollable past distress. The excellent therapist recognises the true source of the fear and does not lose sight of it. They will respectfully and kindly listen to our description of our current anxiety - what will happen at work? Have we done enough research? What if our adversaries band together against us? But then they'll try to gently turn the subject to the past to show us that the future appears to be so frightening because we're being counterproductively loyal to the horrors of a bygone era, which we now need to remember to feel sad about, then mourn and move on from.
We should be disloyal to those who raised us in a fearful environment in order to prevent what remains of life from always seeming doom-laden; we may be trying to stay close to them by panicking alongside them, but we owe it to ourselves to break the cycle of worry and to make our future different from the past by remembering, localising, and mourning what belonged to yesterday even as I write this.
To prevent what remains of life from continually looking doom-laden, we should be disloyal to those who reared us in a frightened environment; we may be attempting to stay connected to them by fearing alongside them, but we owe it to ourselves to break the cycle of anxiety.