When Worry Lives in the Future, Ask What Is Wrong Right Now
Shrink the spiral to the room you are in, then sort facts from guesses and take one small step.

Jay Shetty, who counsels listeners on anxiety, says one question changed his own relationship with worry more than anything else. He puts it this way: "What problem actually exists right now?"
The question works because worry relocates you. Physically you might be at home with coffee, out with the dog, commuting, or in bed, while mentally you are weeks ahead, rehearsing a talk that is unscheduled, a test result that is pending, or a turndown that might never arrive.
Take a hiring decision. The nervous mind races from a no to money troubles to letting relatives down to never working again. Shetty urges a return to the immediate scene. In that moment, the task is simply awaiting word. Discomfort is real, but you have not been turned down. There is no career to overhaul this evening, only the hours you are actually living.
When something tangible does need attention, narrow it to the closest useful move. Worry demands the whole destiny be fixed tonight. Life more often calls for a single practical move, like placing a call, speaking one candid line, settling a choice, or giving a task undivided attention for a while. As Shetty puts it, "planning works with reality, while anxiety works with imagination." Planning leads to action and worry wears you out.
Then get it on paper in two columns. On one side put confirmed facts. On the other put guesses. The guess column is often dramatically longer, and seeing the split helps because the mind delivers both with the same urgency.
Look at the confirmed side and ask what each item calls for. An unanswered note from a friend might call for patience. An error at the office might call for saying sorry and fixing it. An upcoming clinic visit might call for noting concerns to raise. That brings you back to what the facts require of you.
Questions people ask
What if something really is wrong right now, not just in my imagination?
Then use the same question on a smaller scale. Name the concrete piece in front of you, like a bill that is due, a conversation that needs to happen, or an application that has to be submitted, and do the next available action. Action counts as planning, while rehearsing the whole future counts as anxiety.
Why write two lists instead of just thinking it through?
Writing turns vague fears into something you can check. On paper you can see which items have evidence and which are guesses starting with maybe. That separation makes the next step clearer.
How do I keep the assumption list from becoming another worry spiral?
Keep the facts brief and checkable, like what happened, when it happened, and what was actually said. If you cannot point to evidence for it right now, move it to the assumption side. That physical move is the point, because the mind tends to deliver both in the same urgent tone.