In the previous column, we explored how confronting fear – by hyping ourselves up or fixating on high stakes – often backfires, triggering the brain’s threat response and fueling avoidance. In this installment, we’ll examine how that avoidance can surface in subtler forms beyond plain procrastination.
Engaging in aimless activity creates the illusion of progress, allowing us to sidestep decisive action that could expose us to failure. For example, we might endlessly plan without ever beginning, bury ourselves in busywork instead of tackling what truly matters, or continually refine a project without ever finishing it.
These actions create a false sense of accomplishment while shielding us from the risks of true commitment and potential setbacks. (It’s interesting to note here that when people become fearful, they often regress to soothing, even infantile, behaviors and animalistic drives to distract themselves from their fears. This is the psychology behind the typically high-sugar, high-fat, or salt-laden “comfort food” choices.) These foods provide a feeling of fullness instead of emptiness and tend to elevate our mood. They create a fleeting sense of well-being by stimulating the brain’s reward system, temporarily dampening emotional distress.
This pattern repeats under a fog of mind-numbing rationales. The Land of Tomorrow becomes our favorite place to escape. The perils of procrastination are emphasized throughout Ramchal’s Mesillas Yesharim:
Rather, when the time of its performance comes, or when it happens to present itself to him, or when the thought of performing it enters his mind, he should hurry and hasten to seize hold of it and perform it, and not allow time to go by in between. For there is no danger like its danger.
As we’ve learned, the more time, energy, and attention we give anxious thoughts, the more anxious we become. The same principle applies to irrational fears – only in reverse. The more we distract ourselves or delay facing them, the more overwhelming they grow. The faster we run, the bigger the monster appears, feeding off each act of avoidance. This cycle unfolds in three predictable stages: (a) we experience brief relief as tension subsides when we step away from the stressor; (b) the perception of the threat is legitimized and magnified – “This is too much for me to handle”; and (c) the resulting guilt and shame ferment into frustration or anger – directed at ourselves or others – making it even harder to move forward and invest in our well-being.
Self-esteem fuels both the desire to invest in ourselves and the energy required for self-discipline. When self-esteem is low, our focus shifts from long-term goals to immediate gratification – if it feels good, we do it, regardless of the consequences. The less we value ourselves, the less willing we are to suffer temporary discomfort for future gain. After all, why sacrifice, struggle, or strive for someone you don’t even like? Moreover, productive living is the strongest expression of our trust – in the future, in Hashem, and in ourselves. When a person is too afraid to make long-range plans or invest in life, he sends a clear message to his subconscious: he lacks bitachon.
Fear Doesn’t Listen – But It Learns
The amygdala is often referred to as the brain’s “alarm system” because it plays a central role in fear and anxiety responses. When we encounter a potential threat, sensory information is sent simultaneously to the amygdala and to the brain’s sensory-processing centers. The amygdala’s reaction is faster because the route the information takes is shorter – it’s a more direct path. This allows us to initiate a rapid, instinctual – and sometimes lifesaving – response before the sensory areas of the brain (like the prefrontal cortex) have fully processed the information. Hashem designed the brain this way because physical safety often depends on immediate action, not thoughtful reflection – like jumping away from a falling object without first calculating its weight, speed, or trajectory. This quick-reactive system is highly effective for physical danger, but for emotional or psychological threats, it often does more harm than good.
We’ve learned that we cannot control or redirect this part of the brain: it is hardwired to be self-contained and single-minded, resistant to both distraction and reassurance. Reasoning with the amygdala is impossible. It perceives only threats, hijacks our worldview, and turns its perspective into our reality. We can’t reason with fear, but we can retrain our response to it. The amygdala doesn’t learn through insight or logic – it learns through behavior. And there’s only one way to regulate its response: by taking action that runs counter to the fear.
When we move forward despite discomfort, the brain begins to rewire itself. The amygdala forms new neural connections, weakening old fear-based circuits and reinforcing a more adaptive network that gradually overrides them.
Change doesn’t happen immediately, and in the next column we’ll see how to accelerate the process.
To be continued.
