Breaking the Scan Cycle
For most of my life, my mind has behaved like a radio stuck in scan mode. It would sweep through every possible frequency: my to-do list, imaginary conversations, worst-case scenarios, anything that could go wrong. As an engineer, spotting problems before they arrive feels like part of the job. But as a human, that habit slowly turned into fuel for anxiety.
Somewhere along the way, the scan never stopped. I wouldn’t land on a single channel long enough to actually hear anything. It wasn’t just during the day—3 a.m. would roll around and the mental loop would fire back up, determined to out-think every possible outcome so I’d never be caught off guard. The mission was simple and impossible: control everything.
And sure, sometimes it helped. Sometimes it made me organized and prepared. But without any intention or structure, it stopped serving me and started running me. The tail was definitely wagging the dog.
The worst part wasn’t the exhaustion—it was the disconnection. I wasn’t really with the people I cared about. I was physically there, mentally projecting into a thousand imagined futures. That kind of constant scanning pulls you out of your body and traps you in your head. It’s a cognitive prison disguised as responsibility.
Planning isn’t the enemy. Simulating possibilities can be useful. The problem is when mental planning replaces real planning, and even more so when it becomes obsessive. Writing things down, scheduling tasks, using tools outside your own brain—those are more useful forms of organization. Without them, I was just reacting to whatever happened to float to the top of my mind. Even useful thinking patterns become anxiety when they have no boundaries.
Taking a step outside my thoughts and observing my runaway thinking patterns is where things started to change.
Morning journaling helped me take the contents of my mind and put them somewhere else—like clearing a queue. Avoiding my phone for the first 45 minutes prevented me from fueling the cycle before I even got out of bed. Ten minutes of meditation, twice a day, gave me space from the noise instead of trying to fight it.
Long walks—three or four miles at a time—became medicine. But even that could be slippery. Once the fog cleared and fresh air lessened the tension, work thoughts would creep in, and suddenly I’d be on the phone solving problems instead of letting myself be. Presence can disappear fast if you aren’t guarding it.
Breathwork helped, too. Deep, fast cycles followed by long holds—Wim Hof style—pulled me back into my body when my mind was spinning out. It’s not everyone’s method, but it was an interrupt switch I could rely on.
All of those tools worked. The real challenge was discipline. I could build robust systems at work, yet somehow never apply that same engineering mindset to my own well-being. It took a long time to realize that my personal life deserved structure, too—not just my career.
I’m still a work in progress. We all are. But the scan is quieter now. I can land on a channel. I can hear people. I can hear myself. I wish I had learned these habits sooner, but I’m grateful I get to practice them now—today, tomorrow, and the day after that. It’s a daily design problem, not a one-time fix.
This is part of why I’m building MindfulEE. Because a lot of us live in that same loop—overloaded, overstimulated, under-supported. And if you feel that way, you’re not broken. You might just be stuck in scan mode.
We can design better systems. For our work, for our minds, and for our lives.
Author: Nathan B.
