From Meltdown to Mellow: Evicting Your Inner Alarmist

We’ve all been there. You visit your childhood home, and watch a decade's worth of therapy evaporate like a puddle in the desert. Someone sends a slightly terse email and suddenly your heart is racing, your jaw is clenched, and you’re mentally drafting your resignation letter to go live in a yurt. Or, the barista gets your coffee order wrong and for a split second, you consider launching a full-scale Yelp campaign titled “The Great Latte Betrayal of 2025.”

Where does this come from? Why do we sometimes react like a startled cat in a room full of rocking chairs?

Turns out, it might not be about the coffee.

Often, our biggest overreactions are just our inner kid having a meltdown in the grocery store of life. Picture this: Little You, age 8, is just trying to express a need or a feeling. But the grown-ups around you are inconsistent—like a Wi-Fi signal in a basement. One minute they’re loving, the next they’re threatening to “donate you to the circus” because you left a sock on the floor (a totally reasonable consequence, obviously).

So Little You learns some survival skills: hyper-vigilance (constantly scanning for sock-related threats), quick anger (to scare off perceived danger), and a deep belief that being “too much” might get you returned to sender.

Fast forward to now. Your nervous system is still running that old, glitchy software. It sees a vaguely dismissive store manager and sounds the alarm: “RED ALERT! THIS IS JUST LIKE THE SOCK INCIDENT OF ’92! DEPLOY SASS! ACTIVATE EYE-ROLL!”

Your body can’t tell the difference between a real tiger and a mildly irritating paper tiger. It serves you the same full-course adrenaline meal for both.

So, How Do We Upgrade the Software?

Step 1: The “Wait, Am I Actually On Fire?” Check.

When you feel that familiar heat rising—maybe because someone used the wrong font in a presentation—PAUSE. Ask the most grounding question known to humankind: “Am I, at this very moment, in physical danger?”

Is a bear chasing you? Is the building collapsing? Did someone replace your chair with a whoopee cushion? (Okay, that last one is emotionally dangerous, but not physically).

If the answer is “No, the only thing collapsing is my patience,” congratulations! You’ve identified an emotional trigger, not an actual threat. This is your cue to kindly tell your inner alarm system, “Thank you for your concern, but we are not being attacked by Predator. We are being mildly inconvenienced by a shipping fee. Stand down.”

Step 2: Meet Your Cast of Inner Characters.

Inside each of us is a whole sitcom ensemble:

• The Drama Queen/King: Always expects the worst, ready to write a strongly worded letter to the universe.

• The Rebel Kid: Arms crossed, saying “You can’t tell me what to do!” to anything resembling authority (including GPS directions, and often your own rules, too).

• The Scared Little Kid: Just wants a hug and to feel safe.

  
  

When you’re triggered, the Drama Queen has snatched the microphone from the sensible, adult you. Your job is to gently take it back and say, “I’ve got this from here, sweetie. Why don’t you go have a juice box and lie down?”

Step 3: Rewrite the Script (No Award Speech Necessary).

That voice that whispers “See? You don’t matter” when you’re ignored in a meeting? That’s an old, boring script written by a tired, scared kid. It’s not fact, it’s historical fiction.

Your job as the adult is to be the editor. Cross out the line “I am unworthy of a refund/respect/that last piece of pizza.” Write in the margin: “NEW DRAFT: I am a capable adult who can handle frustration without turning into a human tornado. Also, I deserve the pizza.”

Your Homework (The Fun Kind):

1. Pause & Pose. When triggered, strike a superhero pose for 10 seconds. It’s hard to feel victimized when you look like Wonder Woman. Science says so (kind of).

2. Write a Silly Letter. Pen a note to your inner kid from your adult self. “Dear Little Me, I know you’re scared of being ‘too much.’ Just FYI, I paid the bills today and called to dispute a charge without crying. We’re gonna be okay. P.S. I bought us some Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

3. Schedule a Meltdown. Seriously. If you feel tears brewing during the day, give yourself permission to have a designated “scream in the shower” session later. It’s like making an appointment with your emotions so they don’t crash your work meeting uninvited.

   
   

Growth isn’t about getting rid of your inner kid or your reactions. It’s about promoting yourself from the scared star of your own drama to the calm, slightly amused director.

The past may have written the first few chapters, but you hold the pen for the rest of the story. And I suggest making the next chapter a comedy.

Ready to fire your inner drama queen and hire a more grounded, humorous inner guide? Let’s write your next chapter together.