The Real Reason Your Brain Won’t Shut Up
It has nothing to do with “being prepared,” and everything to do with a lack of self-trust.
For a long time, this is exactly what the inside of my head felt like. It is how my outside world felt. Like waves crashing on rock in a storm, my overthinking and rumination were endless, immortal, chaotic, and never satisfied.
Today, that same image brings me serenity rather than chaos. The awareness I needed may be the one you need, too.
I have been a massive overthinker my entire life, so when I finally figured out what raises it and what eases it, waves of relief washed over me.
What you already know is that overthinking is exhausting. The endless ping-pong in your head is putting you into massive amounts of mental debt, and it’s probably why you’re tired all the time. I certainly was.
You probably also know—although this is harder to accept—that as much as you intend for that cycle to be helpful in preparing you for the unknown, it just isn’t.
Don’t believe me?
Because, of course, you think that if you just spend enough energy trying to figure out every possible outcome, you can perfectly prepare for the moment so nothing will go wrong. It is a way to control what happens in that unknown world.
You tell yourself that you’re just thinking ahead to solve a problem. And if you could just find an answer and be done with it, that would be fine. But the trap of overthinking is that you are never actually satisfied with the solution, so the process never stops.
When was the last time you said, “Hmm. Okay, that sounds like enough thinking.” And then you put the idea to bed and moved on? It doesn’t happen.
Because instead of being satisfied with a “good enough” answer, you look for that one perfect, pain-free solution within a cognitive minefield of a million other disastrous ones.
So here is how we think differently. Let’s trace the logic back to the root:
You overthink to perfectly prepare for every possible outcome. You need that perfect answer because the unexpected feels dangerous. And the unexpected only feels dangerous because you do not trust yourself to handle it.
Even I have to take a breath after that one.
The unexpected only feels dangerous because you do not trust yourself to handle it.
When you stop trusting yourself, your overthinking rises. When you start trusting yourself, it lowers.
So I want to be clear about what trusting yourself looks like, because even I need this reminder.
Self-trust just means you believe you can handle whatever comes your way. That you don’t need every answer. That in the moment, even when you don’t have something figured out, you are still going to be okay.
If this idea sounds scary to you, then I have some great news—amazing news.
You have already done this time and time again.
You have handled the unexpected, the imperfect, and here you are. You made it. And you may not believe it right now, but you have the evidence you need to prove that you have handled and can handle what comes your way.
Here’s what you need the next time you recognize you’re overthinking:
Ask yourself how to handle or approach whatever this situation is. Your first or second answers will be good enough. That’s step 1.
Step 2 now, is to stop trying to solve the problem.
Stop trying to solve it.
Stop.
Breathe into that discomfort.
My favorite take on this comes from Dr. Michael J. Greenberg, who describes rumination as a treadmill we step off of.
He makes the distinction that ruminating is an effort we make; not-ruminating (although with its challenges) is the act of not making effort. And so he describes it as stepping off a treadmill. He says, “Directing attention is like mentally holding onto something. You don’t need to grab onto something else, just to let go.”
The idea is simple, but not always easy. That’s why you must also be kind to yourself, because this is going to take some time and practice before you start to know you’re safe enough to feel like you can completely stop.
But at some point sooner than you expect, you’re going to be satisfied with the first “good enough” solution that comes into your head.
The answer is in the silence.
This same coast, violent and chaotic, looks entirely different to me today. I imagine sitting on a rock by myself with waves crashing around me, and I am serene.
I trust in myself not to know the answer, but to handle what comes my way.