Even if I don’t like the outcome, that doesn’t mean it’s not the right outcome. And that frees me to choose.
I’m no longer frantic. I check the forecast—with purpose this time. I check the traffic situation. I push back from the computer with a plan, and I leave a few hours later, twenty-two hours earlier than scheduled. It’s not ideal, but it works, and the decision is blessedly behind me.
It only rains a little on the way.
Next Steps
Take the following quiz to see if you are an overthinker.
Do you sometimes lavish mental energy on things that don’t deserve it?
Are there times when you can’t seem to think about anything else, even though you know your thoughts are better spent elsewhere?
Do you ever feel stuck reviewing something that happened in the past?
Do you frequently second-guess yourself?
Do you fret about the small stuff and spend too much time thinking about relatively insignificant issues or problems?
Do your thoughts sometimes keep you up at night?
Do you engage in thoughts you know to be repetitive, unhealthy, and unhelpful?
If you answered yes to some of these questions, you tend to overthink things. Keep reading, because you don’t have to keep doing it.
2
Work the Process
Nothing had just happened to her, she had made a choice, and then she had made another and another after that. Taken together, the small choices anyone made added up to a life.
J. Courtney Sullivan
I have a friend who is, by her own description, a chronic overthinker. She says she was born that way and it’s just the way she is. End of story.
She thinks it’s cute, actually—that we women love our families so much that we can’t stop ourselves from worrying about them. Because we’re committed to getting things right—whether in our homes, our work, or our relationships—it’s only natural to think about them all the time. We just can’t help ourselves, bless our hearts. Whenever her struggle with overthinking comes up in conversation, she always ends by asking rhetorically, “But what can you do?”
She assumes there’s nothing she can do. And it’s no wonder. When we look around, we see so many women who overthink, who believe these patterns of thought come naturally and there’s nothing they can do about them. It’s easy to think this is just the way it is.
This misconception is common, but it isn’t harmless. Regardless of the facts, my friend’s mindset makes change impossible. When we assume we can’t, it’s guaranteed we won’t. It’s true that some of us are naturally more decisive, more laid back, or more confident than others. Some of us are more inclined to overthink. But that is the starting point, not the last word. That is where we begin, not where we’re destined to end up.
You Have to Believe You Can Change
Overthinking has always come naturally to me. For me, not overthinking is not effortless. I’ve had to learn how to get my thought life under control, and even after all these years, I don’t expect to never overthink. But I’m happy to succeed a significant percentage of the time—so often, in fact, that from the outside it may even appear that not overthinking comes naturally to me.
But appearances don’t tell the whole story.
This idea was captured by advertisers in a long-running cosmetics campaign built around what is now the most recognizable phrase in 150 years of advertising: “Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s Maybelline.” When I was a kid, I loved these ads. They always showed a beautiful, well-dressed woman, prompting the viewer to wonder if her face looked like that when she woke up or if she relied on Maybelline makeup to get “the look.” (Although, even as a kid, it was clear the answer was Maybelline, every time.)
So it goes with overthinking—or, more accurately, not overthinking. Maybe we look at someone who appears to never doubt herself and think, I wish I could be like that. Or worse, I’ll never be like that. She never seems to get pulled into negative thought patterns or to second-guess herself, so why do we? We may assume she was born that way. But what if she wasn’t? What if she had to slowly learn, bit by bit?
I admire people who belong in the former camp, but I belong to the latter. It may look effortless now, but trust me—I’ve had to learn. And so can you. Perfection isn’t possible, but change totally is.
Begin to Describe Yourself Differently
In my first book, Reading People, I write about how the way we see ourselves has enormous implications for how we live our lives. “I’m the kind of person who _____” is a powerful statement, no matter what goes in that blank. A shift in our sense of identity—that is, a shift in how we fill in that blank—can cause massive changes in our behavior, almost instantly.
Beginning now, I don’t want you to describe yourself as a chronic overthinker. Don’t call yourself that, not even in your own head. Overthinking is no longer part of your identity, though it may be a behavior you’re engaging in right now. Instead, begin to describe yourself—if only in your head—as someone who:
Is capable of experiencing less decision angst and more joy and peace
Can learn to make confident, competent decisions
Doesn’t need to habitually second-guess herself
Is learning how to filter out the unimportant, unhealthy, and unhelpful
Is developing strategies for stopping overthinking in its tracks
Is becoming equipped to gracefully pivot when things don’t go as planned
Can put overthinking aside to welcome good things into her life
Shifting your mindset is just the first step, but it’s an important one. Now you’ve got some work to do. Improvement won’t happen on its own, and it won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.
How I Began to Change the Way I See Myself
Two years after I graduated from college, the Twin Towers collapsed. I wasn’t close to New York City when it happened; I was on an airplane headed that way from Prague. Hours after departing the Czech Republic, our plane was turned around and sent back to Europe, where, through an unlikely confluence of tragedy and simple bad luck involving 9/11, a bee sting, an allergy, and a German emergency room, I began suffering panic attacks for the first time in my life.
Weeks later, when I finally made it back to the United States, I followed up with my doctor. He told me my experience was common: my elevated stress levels after 9/11 made me susceptible to a full-blown panic attack, triggered by the bee sting. He said we needed to dial down my stress response, and fast, because panic attacks beget more panic attacks. With each one I experienced, I etched grooves in my nervous system that made it that much easier to have another—and another. I didn’t want my body to memorize that route.
My doctor prescribed anxiety and blood pressure meds and sent me on my way, but as we said goodbye, he made an offhand comment that changed my life. “The mental arena isn’t my area of expertise,” he said, “but I know this: your thoughts can be the enemy, or you can make them your ally.”