The Screw That Promised Safety

Metaphorical Narrative

On a dusty workbench lies a single screw, kept for a decade. It has no place, no matching piece, no immediate use. Yet the hand hesitates—what if one day this is the very screw that saves me?

It is not the screw that holds power. It is the ancient whisper: “Keep everything, because one day you might need it.” The pile grows. The drawers overflow. The promise is safety, but the weight is silent bondage.

The screw becomes a monument to survival rehearsals long past, a little relic of fear dressed as preparedness.

Core Insight

Survival patterns are not random—they are hardwired rehearsals. At some point, keeping scraps, tools, or backup plans really did secure safety. The brain stamped it as “always useful.” Over time, the nervous system generalises this into every context, even when the threat is gone.

This is why people hoard broken parts, over-save documents, or cling to commitments “just in case.” The hidden logic is: If I am prepared, I cannot be blindsided.

The mechanism:

• Trigger → you see a leftover object.
• Ego voice → “better keep it, who knows?”
• Body state → subtle anxiety about future scarcity.
• Reinforcement → you keep it, nothing bad happens, the brain marks it as “safety code confirmed.”

Daily life examples:

• Holding onto outdated clothes because “I might wear them someday.”
• Saving useless emails “in case I need the info.”
• Saying yes to obligations just to “stay connected.”

Spotting cues: a little urgency voice whispering “what if…” + a brief jolt of anxiety when considering letting go. That’s not truth—it’s the old rehearsal firing.

The desensitisation is not deletion, but unpairing safety from the reflex. Each time you let go and see nothing catastrophic follows, the nervous system rewires. Safety shifts from “cling and prepare” to “adapt and source.”

Saturday Experiment

1. Pick one “just in case” item this week (a screw, an old cable, a shirt you never wear).
2. Hold it, name the promise aloud: “You’re trying to keep me safe by being there for some imaginary future.”
3. Thank it. Then let it go. Donate it, bin it, release it.
4. As the anxiety rises, don’t fight it—breathe, move, ground. Notice the world does not collapse.

Repeat weekly. One item is enough. The nervous system learns in small doses.

Sunday Reflection

• When I cling to scraps, what future threat am I secretly rehearsing for?
• What does this object/obligation promise me that I already have elsewhere?
• How does my identity change if safety no longer comes from clinging, but from trusting my ability to adapt?