Thoughts have geography. There is a version of your life that exists only in a bathroom at half past two, and it is not the version that exists in a kitchen at nine with the radio on.
Same person, same facts, radically different conclusions, which tells you something about the conclusions. Anything that cannot survive daylight, or company, or a meal, was never as solid as it felt at the time.
This is more use than trying not to have them. You cannot govern what turns up. You can notice where you are standing when it does.
If a thing looks unbearable in a dark hallway, it is allowed to wait until it can be looked at somewhere else.