Curiosity Killed the Catastrophe: Turning the Uncertain into Opportunity

Curiosity is a good vibe in the face of the uncertain.

— Martin Baker

This blog post was inspired by a recent conversation with a friend who was feeling uncertain about a meeting she needed to arrange. After listening for a while, I suggested she approached it with a sense of curiosity. “Imagine you’re visiting a volcano,” I said. “You don’t know what will happen when you get there but you’re curious to find out.” It wasn’t a perfect analogy, but my friend got the meaning. (The conversation reminded me of another natural wonder analogy which Fran and I still use: that of visiting a waterfall and standing back so as not to be drenched or overwhelmed.)

When Is Curiosity Useful?

Curiosity might not be the most obvious response to a difficult or stressful situation, but Fran and I have found it helpful in a number of scenarios.

• Moving or anticipating the move from one phase of illness to another. For example from mania to depression, or from relative stability into depression or mania.
• Starting a new medication, changing dosage, or tapering off a medication. (All under medical supervision).
• Changing medical practitioner, for example when a professional retires or moves away.
• When concerned about other people’s ill health or financial situation. For example friends or family members.

The common factor in these situations, and the primary reason for our anxiety or distress, is the uncertainty about what will happen.

Curiosity and Catastrophising

When things are uncertain, it’s easy to catastrophise. Our brains tend to jump to the worst outcome we can imagine. As Fran puts it, “catastrophising is a well-worn path.” To some degree, it’s a protective instinct. By imagining the worst possible outcome, we feel we’re prepared for whatever happens. Then, if things don’t work out that bad, we can feel relieved. There’s a certain logic to this, but it’s not the healthiest approach to the uncertainties of life. There will always be things in our future that we can anticipate but not predict with any degree of accuracy. Living in a perpetual worst case scenario is exhausting at best, and profoundly unhealthy at worst.

There is a variant of this mindset that Fran’s prone to. Rather than contemplating the worst possible outcome for a given situation, she’ll come up with multiple “bad case scenarios” — each in its way awful to contemplate. I remind her that although it can help to think through alternate futures, only one future will, in fact, play out.

Letting Go of Expectations

Approaching life with curiosity allows us to take a step back and observe external events and our responses to them with compassion, humility, and even a little humour. So much of our response to life arises from the uneasy dynamic between our fear of what might happen and our expectations about what should. Between what we hope we’ve earned and what we fear we deserve.

Letting go of expectation, of anticipation, of needing to know what’s going to happen before it happens, can be profoundly liberating. It’s not a case of pushing our worries down, ignoring legitimate concerns, or failing to prepare. Curiosity allows us to move forward and respond appropriately to things as they unfold, learning as we go.

Curiosity doesn’t guarantee that bad things won’t happen. Rather, it accepts problems and disappointments for what they are, encouraging us to face the reality of them and move through them to the other side. As American TV host, comedian, and actor Conan O’Brien observed, “There’s nothing more empowering than your worst fear coming true, and realizing you are still okay.”

Why Does Curiosity Get Such a Bad Rap?

The familiar proverb “curiosity killed the cat” might be taken as a warning, but there’s more to the maxim than might appear at first sight. In its original form, what killed the poor feline wasn’t curiosity but care, in the sense of worrying or feeling sorrow for others. Budding Shakespearean scholars will recognise the following excerpt from Much Ado About Nothing (c. 1599).

What, courage man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Although there’s no mention of cats in our book High Tide Low Tide, Fran and I recognise how toxic worrying can be, both to the person worrying and the person being worried about. Don’t worry about me, care about me remains a central tenets of our mutually supportive friendship. The idea that curiosity has the potential to cause cats’ (or at least one cat’s) demise developed later. “They say curiosity killed a cat once” appears in an Irish newspaper of 1868. One alleged feline fatality, sad though it undoubtedly would be, hardly justifies the bad reputation curiosity has attracted over the years.

Was Schrödinger Curious About His Cat?

Schrödinger’s cat is a thought experiment about the logical abusurdities of quantum physics, suggested in 1935 by Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger. Simply expressed, he said that if you placed a cat and something that could kill the cat (for example a capsule of poison triggered by the decay of a radioactive atom) in a sealed box, you wouldn’t know for certain if the cat were dead or alive until you opened the box to look. Weirdly (according to the then prevailing Copenhagen interpretation of quantum physics) until the box was opened, the cat would be both dead and alive. In this — hypothetical — scenario, the observer’s curiosity can be taken as either fatal or life-affirming with respect to the cat.

This yes-or-no, is-it-or-isn’t-it perspective is one I’ve experienced several times. It’s more than “I don’t know what’s happened.” It’s more the conviction that either/both scenarios are objectively true until I open the box to look. I described this with respect to the sold / unsold status of my childhood home in Schrödinger’s Fishing Tackle Box.

Unless or until I asked the house, my home from birth until the age of eighteen when I left for university, was simultaneously sold — and not. Curiosity may have killed the cat but Erwin Schrödinger’s feline remains alive and not-alive until someone looks inside the box and the entangled, quantum superposition states of live cat / dead cat collapse.

The blog post’s title refers to a wooden tackle box my father made for me when I was in my teens. I couldn’t remember if I’d rescued it from the house at some point when my mother still lived there. If so, it was safe, somewhere in my own home. If not, it was gone, disposed of along with everything else other people had deemed unworthy of preserving or passing on. Curiosity doesn’t have to mean actively going after the truth. It can mean being at peace with not knowing things for certain. I was content not knowing for sure about my tackle box. I still am. As I wrote, “It exists / notexists. Like so much else. And I find I am okay with that. With the unknowningness.”

Curiosity and the New Year

It’s a long time since I shackled myself with New Year resolutions. For a few years I shared lists of “Things I’d like to do in the next twelve months” but I stopped after the pandemic of 2020. That year reminded me how futile our expectations are in a universe that pays no heed to what we want or imagine we deserve. At the start of a new year, I’m making no predictions and have few expectations. I enter 2025 curious as to what it will bring, confident I’ll handle what happens as and when it does. In doing so, I’m in good company. Albert Einstein famously declared, “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”

I’ll close with an excerpt from a recent conversation with my friend Jen who asked what I was planning to write about next. I told her I had an idea for a piece about curiosity.

M: I think curiosity is a great way to approach things, but I’ve never actually written about it before, I don’t think.

J: Yeah. It’s good to be curious.

M: So we’ll have to see how this piece works out. I’m curious to find out.

J: Hee hee.

 

Photo of feral cats at Puerto Morgan, Gran Canaria, by Paul Longhurst at Unsplash.

No cats — feral, quantum, or otherwise — were harmed in the making of this blog post.

 

Sometimes We Need to Ask the Questions

“We don’t have the answers to everything, sometimes we just need to ask the questions.” (John Rotter)

The above quotation is taken from an article by John Rotter, Marketing and Communications Assistant at MHFA England. It expresses perfectly why asking questions is such an important aspect of mental health literacy.

This post was inspired by an open letter to me by fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson in response to an article I wrote recently about imposter syndrome, self-doubt, and legitimacy. In her letter, Aimee described how important it is to have people she can turn to for support.

Having gone through my mental health journey with my Mum being my main source of support, I think that I now know how essential it is to have the support of another person through your times of struggle and the challenges thrown at you. [....] The difficulty comes in allowing yourself to lean on another person or even to just admit that you need to lean on them!

Something she went on to say caught my attention.

I love that you ask me questions when I’m struggling because it’s much more helpful than you just sitting there and nodding along, pretending to understand.

That meant a lot, not least because Fran and I have long advocated asking questions in the context of caring, supportive relationships. But what kinds of questions are most helpful?

What Do You Need?

Asking your friend what they need is one of the simplest and yet most important questions you can ask. This came up recently in conversation with another mental health blogger, Laura Riordan. We were chatting about how we support friends who live with mental health issues, and Laura said:

Maybe I can just listen instead of making any suggestions. Some people desperately want advice [....] And some just want to be heard.

I agreed wholeheartedly.

Yes, Laura. I’m a believer in not pushing suggestions or advice on people unless they ask for it. What people often need is space to share, safe from judgement. The best thing is simply to ask: what do you need right now?

This is echoed in a line from our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder:

Supporting Fran means paying attention to her needs and not assuming I know best. This can be as simple as asking, “What do you need most right now?”

How Is It For You?

For someone like me with no lived experience to draw on, asking questions helps me understand what my friends are going through. That’s what Aimee was talking about when she said she loves that I ask her questions when she is struggling. On that occasion, we were talking about self-harm. I’d asked how it was that sometimes self-harm expresses itself for her as an overdose, sometimes as cutting, sometimes in other ways. Was there a difference, I wondered, in the kind of situations that led to her taking these different actions, what they represented for her, or the effect on her afterwards? Aimee was a little thrown by the questions. I don’t think she had been asked to think about it in quite that way before, but as she wrote in her open letter it was clearly of value to her:

In asking these questions, you’ve helped me to make a better sense of my self-harm and that, is one of the first steps in changing the behaviour and moving forwards in my recovery.

It also helped me learn a little more about what my friend lives with and how she handles things.

Getting Real

Asking questions is not a passive activity. A question invites a response, and you may not get back what you anticipated or are comfortable with. In addition to talking with Aimee about self-harm, conversations with Fran and other friends regularly touch on suicide and suicidal thinking. Things can get real very quickly. Depending on the circumstances, you might want or need to ask further questions or take action. If your friend appears to be struggling, be prepared to ask the important questions.

• Are you feeling suicidal, or thinking of doing something to harm yourself?
• Do you feel you are safe right now?
• Do we need to think about how to help you stay safe?

Also ask how your friend would like you to proceed if you become concerned for their safety. Respect their wishes and opinions, but be clear that you will involve other people or support services if necessary. That way you both know where you stand. We have a selection of crisis lines and support organisations on our Resources page.

Care and Understanding

Questions are not always about crisis, suicide, or self-harm, of course. Asking appropriate questions can let your friend know you are aware of their situation and needs. I described a few such situations in my article 5 Must-Read Rules to Help Your Friend with Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder for Bp Magazine.

I may not have a mental health diagnosis but I struggle too at times. I get stressed, uncertain, frustrated, and stuck. It’s happened quite a lot in the past few months. I’m blessed in having friends who are unafraid to hold things up to the light for me, and that includes asking the kind of questions that challenge me to explore what I think I know, my motives, and expectations. It really helps. Here is an example from a recent chat with Aimee:

Aimee: Hi Marty. How are you?

Marty: I’m OK. I was feeling a bit down over the weekend but am doing better today. I was very busy at work and there were train delays but I’m home now.

Aimee: Aw why do you think you were feeling down?

Marty: After feeling “stuck” for a while, as you know, my writing got going again recently. Our day out in Blyth and joint blogging ideas helped, and the Mental Health First Aid conference I went to. All that gave me a boost. I think what’s happened is that energy has run out of steam a bit. Does that make sense?

Aimee: Of course. Totally understand. Well here’s a little assignment for you...

Aimee invited me to contribute to an article she was writing and shared her draft with me. It helped me shift how I’d been feeling and generated some possible new ways forward. Later, I let her know how much I appreciated the support.

Marty: Thank you for asking if I knew why I’d been feeling down, Aimee. It helped me focus on what might have been behind it. Also, thanks for knowing that giving me a “little assignment” would help!

Aimee: Of course! This friendship isn’t just you being here for me when I’m struggling!

Ask Yourself First

It can be helpful to ask questions, but that doesn’t mean bombarding your friend with them all the time. It’s also important not to come across as insincere, patronising, or condescending. These are sure ways to annoy and alienate someone! If you are at all unsure, take a few moments and ask yourself a few questions before proceeding.

• What do I want to achieve by asking this question?
• Am I inviting my friend to do something, or to share something with me?
• Am I prepared for whatever kind of response I get back, be that positive, negative, partial, uncertain, none at all, or my friend asking me a question in return?

Finally, is this question, and my motive for asking it, kind in mind and heart?

Over to You

What is the best, most insightful question you have ever been asked? What kinds of questions do not help you at all? Have you asked someone a question that made a real difference? Are there times you feel questions are inappropriate or unnecessary? We’d love to hear from you.

 

Let’s Talk about Talking: Three Conversation Types for a Mutually Caring Relationship

I am grateful to Vikki Beat for our recent conversation at Caffe Nero which led to me writing this up.

It’s no secret that Fran and I spend a lot of time talking together but it took a while for me to recognise that not all conversations are the same. Different people have different ways of talking, of course, but aside from that there are distinct types of conversation depending on what the people involved need at the time. Here are three distinct types we have found useful. I’d love to know if they resonate for you – or if they don’t! Let’s talk!

“My Turn, Your Turn.”

This is the type of conversation that comes most naturally to me, whether face-to-face (in person or on a video call), on the telephone, or in online chat. It consists of short alternating exchanges, one person speaking for a moment or two then letting the other take a turn. It works well (at least for me) where you are “shooting the breeze”, making plans, or sharing things on a fairly surface-y level. What I had to learn is there are situations where it isn’t necessarily appropriate or helpful.

“It Will Be Your Turn in a Minute.”

The “my turn, your turn” approach doesn’t work for Fran if she is trying to share something detailed or important. From her point of view, my wanting to speak every minute or so means I am constantly interrupting her train of thought. Once interrupted, she finds it next to impossible to pick up again.

This was especially so early in our friendship when Fran was in mania. It was hard enough for her to slow her thoughts to a pace and into an order where she could share them with someone else. She needed me to let her speak for a while without interrupting. Then I could take my turn, whether to comment on what she had shared, ask a question, or take things in a new direction.

This felt very unnatural to me at first – and I still find it hard sometimes – but I’ve learned that slowing things down like this (essentially conversing in short monologues rather than exchanging sentences) can be incredibly valuable whether you have difficulties marshalling your thoughts or not.

“I Need to Talk Right Now.”

There are times when we want and need to just let the words flow, to “dump” (although I hate that expression), to express whatever it is we are feeling or thinking without being interrupted, questioned, or judged. It is what Thich Nhat Hahn has called deep listening:

Deep listening simply means listening with compassion. Even if the other person is full of wrong perceptions, discrimination, blaming, judging, and criticizing, you are still capable of sitting quietly and listening, without interrupting, without reacting. Because you know that if you can listen like that, the other person will feel enormous relief. You remember that you are listening with only one purpose in mind: to give the other person a chance to express themselves, because up until now no one has taken the time to listen. (Thich Nhat Hanh)

This is important work and carries a degree of responsibility. As the listener you may feel any number of things: pain, hurt, joy, pride, love, anger. You might yearn to interrupt with advice and suggestions. It’s okay. You get to feel it all – and you get to keep it to yourself. Your input, suggestions, and opinion may be welcome later but right now your role is to be wholly present, to STFU, and to listen. It is NOT easy. At least, I do not always find it so. Persevere. It is perhaps the greatest gift you can offer another human being.

Vikki and I joked how maybe we ought to make some flags we can hold up to let the other one know what type of conversation we want or need. That might be taking things a little too far (though it would be fun!) but it is important in any relationship that both people can express what they need in the moment. As far as conversation types go this can be as simple as holding up your hand to indicate you’ve not finished talking yet, or saying “I need you to listen right now while I get all this out, okay?” Our ability to do this – and to accept that we still sometimes get it wrong – is why Fran and I work so well.

When two people are open and honest with each other and come together to share words, space, and time, it can be a truly beautiful thing.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

~ Rumi

 

Not to Punish but to Understand

Sometimes it happens that you read or hear or experience something so sharp, so surprising, so out of left field, so TRUE that it stops you in your tracks. That’s what happened the other day when I came across this quote on social media.

Imagine meeting someone who wanted to learn your past not to punish you, but to understand how you needed to be loved. (Author unknown)

There is personal relevance in the words, for me and others in my life right now. But that’s not what I want to write about. What I want to explore — and I am writing as much for me as for you, dear reader — is why it would ever be otherwise. Why are those lines so shocking? Ought not every person we meet — certainly every person we allow in close — approach us in such a way?

Perhaps. Well, yes, in fact. But for a whole heap of reasons silence and stigma and shame remain powerful forces in society at large and in the smaller, more immediate communities in which we live out our lives. Wherever we meet — in our families, schools, colleges, places of work and of worship — the response to us, to our stories and histories, so often falls short of the caring curiosity for which we yearn.

Sadder still, we punish ourselves for what we have done or said, or failed to do or failed to say; the times we believe we have let ourselves or others down. How rarely do we approach ourselves with compassion?

What would it feel like if we did? How would it feel to explore our own stories wanting not to punish but to understand how we need to be loved?