How I Stay Calm When the Market Is Going Down

Everyone Says to Focus on What You Can Control, But How?

You check your phone, and the market's tanking—down 500 points in an hour. Headlines are screaming. Financial Twitter’s in meltdown mode. And your portfolio? Not great.

Even if you’re a once-a-year investor like me, it’s hard not to flinch. Volatility is constant now—geopolitics, inflation, Fed moves. There’s always something.

Our brains aren’t built for this. They crave control. But when we’re staring at something as unpredictable as the stock market, that need turns into a feedback loop of anxiety. I’ve caught myself checking my investment app five times in an hour, like my stare might somehow reverse the trend. (It doesn’t.)

And knowing that this reaction is normal? It helps. A little. But it’s not enough. It’s like being told to ignore an itch while your hands are tied.

What works better—at least for me—is finding somewhere else to put that energy. Not distraction for its own sake, but real, purposeful momentum. Something I can shape. Something that feels like progress when everything else is spiraling.

That’s how I stay steady. Not by ignoring the chaos, but by focusing on something I actually control.

Why We Struggle to Stay Calm

10,000 years ago, our ancestors survived by scanning their surroundings constantly. A rustle in the grass? That could be dinner—or death. Missing a signal wasn’t a small slip. It meant you were done.

So their brains stayed on high alert. Always looking, always solving.

We haven’t evolved past that. When the S&P 500 dips 2%, my brain still flips into full-alert mode like a tiger is hunting me. I know I’m in it for the long game. I know daily swings don’t matter. Doesn’t stop the pulse spike.

Last year, when the market dropped hard, I tried to unplug. No news for 24 hours. I lasted three. When I checked again, it was down another percent. The mix of emotions? Relief, guilt, helplessness.

That’s when it hit me: knowing it’s irrational doesn’t turn it off. The part of my brain lighting up wasn’t built for financial planning. It was built for survival.

So instead of fighting it, I needed a better outlet. Something real I could do. Something with an outcome I could shape.

Our Mind Needs Constant Momentum

Powerlessness feeds anxiety.

Even though I only touch my investments once a year, my brain still wants to act. So I give it something else to work on. Something useful. Not just busywork—something aligned with what matters to me.

One outlet is reading. I lean into dense books that stretch my thinking—like Thinking, Fast and Slow by Kahneman. Reading about how we overreact to short-term pain while I’m feeling that exact thing? Wildly clarifying. It’s not just passing time. It feels productive.

Another outlet: conversations that bring perspective. I was catching up with a friend over coffee—not even talking about money—and somehow the topic veered into how chaotic the markets had been. He shrugged and said, “I stopped checking. I’ve got 30 years.” That offhand comment stuck with me. It wasn’t advice, but it hit harder than any article or expert take. Just a reminder that time is on my side—and I haven’t done anything wrong here.

And then, the big one: writing. I’ve been working on a book about psychology. It’s slow. Some days are just staring at the screen, trying to untangle a thought. But every sentence I write is a win. Last week I rewrote a paragraph for an hour. When it finally clicked, it felt like a fist bump to the chaos.

The market can tank all it wants. It can’t take that away.

That’s the move: do something you care about that you can control. One page. One conversation. One idea that sharpens how you think. That’s real progress. It matters more than pretending your anxiety will vanish if you just check the news one more time.

Conclusion

Markets will keep lurching.

Our brains will keep itching for control.

That’s the setup.

I don’t fight it anymore. I let my investments ride. And I stay busy building something that’s mine.

Buffett said, “The stock market is a device for transferring money from the impatient to the patient.” I think about that every time the urge to act creeps in.

Patience isn’t sitting still. It’s choosing the right kind of action.

So the next time panic creeps in, ask: What can I do right now that actually moves me forward?

Write something. Call someone. Learn a thing.

Start small. But start. That’s momentum.

I’ve stopped waiting for calm to arrive. I build my own. You can too. Just pick something in reach—and begin.