I once hated overthinking. I cursed it as the cause of many of my ills. I blamed it for holding me back when I wanted to advance. I numbed it with substances so it would no longer cripple me. I’m confident I am not the only one.
Overthinking presents itself when life is not going as we expect. It sends us bounding through endless scenarios to figure out the best route. That means it always emerges at the most challenging points of our lives. It’s there when we face challenges with family, relationships, friends, and work. Often, it paralyzes us. On occasion, it helps us see a better way.
I have always tried to cope with overthinking. I sought ways to stop it or at least control it. In that search, I realised doing either was futile. Overthinking is a core part of who I am – who we are. We will never be able to stop it. But we can understand it – and learn to wield it.
What is ‘overthinking’?
By definition, overthinking means thinking too much or for too long; it murmurs into life when we have a decision to make. Depending on the choice, a range of emotions will inevitably present themselves. Sometimes the decision makes us anxious. Other times we worry. Occasionally they will even excite us. Ultimately, in every situation, we want to make the best decision.
As those emotions arise, so does the risk of overthinking. When we become anxious, we want to resolve the source of that anxiety. When we are worried, we want to relieve that worry. When we are excited, we don’t want it to end.
The path is not always clear when there is a decision to be made. When it’s unclear, we play multiple scenarios through our minds to try and work out the best route forwards.
In situations with multiple paths to choose from, none of which are the clear best, we can be left in a state of paralysis – better known as overthinking.
What happens to us when we overthink?
Most of us will be familiar with what overthinking feels like, but less so with what happens in the brain when it has us in a vice.
The feeling we experience when we are anxious or excited results from a physiological response being triggered. Like when we experience fear, the brain releases neurochemicals into the bloodstream. The sensation this gives us is what we know better as emotion. The exact concoction we experience depends on the trigger. For example, an immediate threat (such as a lion) sets off a neurochemical reaction that prepares us for immediate action – otherwise known as an ‘active response.’ Meanwhile, a distant threat, such as a bill we must pay soon, incites a reaction that makes us more alert – this is known as a ‘passive response.’
The exact concoction of chemicals requires further study. We know that the brain releases a cocktail of epinephrine and GABA upon triggering to prepare for the threat. Our hearts begin to race, our palms sweat and our pupils dilate.
Regardless of whether it is an active or passive response – the body’s reaction is similar. Our awareness increases, and our senses sharpen; this evolutionary design places us in the best position to handle the threat we have sensed.
What is important to note is that the response is consistent. The brain’s reaction remains the same whether we are worrying about a work dispute or escaping a predator.
Our biological inevitability is a key point I will refer back to. When we overthink, what happens beneath the skin is consistent each time.
The problem of analysis paralysis
With family, friends, work, and home – wherever it may be – overthinking arises daily.
Regardless of the situation, we always try to make the correct decision. Take an issue with a friend as an example. Do we confront them directly on the matter? Or do we allow it to slide? Perhaps we even raise the subject with a mutual friend?
As we ponder, our brains instinctively evaluate each option. This process usually leads to an obvious decision – and we think little of it.
But every now and again – the right choice is not clear.
Despite all the options laid before us, there is no easy answer. Very quickly, we become paralysed, and when we do, the anxiety builds. As the brain’s passive response takes hold, epinephrine and GAMA continue to seep into the bloodstream. These neurochemicals prepare us for the potential threat we sense – however, they don’t make the decision any easier.
The longer we are paralysed, the more hormones are released and the greater the intensity of the feeling. Before long, analysis paralysis leaves us wrought with that feeling – something most of us identify with as anxiety.
However, overthinking and anxiety are not one and the same. In truth, anxiety warrants an examination of its own. For the remainder of this post, we must separate the two. Anxiety is an emotion, a feeling derived from our mood or circumstance. In contrast, overthinking is part of our passive response – a process for anticipating a threat.
Appreciating overthinking
Emotions are unpredictable and can arise with little indication as to why. Overthinking, on the other hand, is more straightforward to anticipate.
The stricken feeling of analysis paralysis gives overthinking a lousy reputation. A descending spiral of multiple scenarios and outcomes traps us as we seek clarity on how to proceed.
However – what happens if we never allow ourselves to become paralysed?
Imagine you are climbing up a mountain, aiming to reach the peak. It’s been a straightforward climb, and then you come to a narrow section with 30-foot drops on either side. The route forward is a knife edge of rocks. Your passive response kicks in, and worry builds. You consider turning back – but peering behind, the path ahead looks steeper now you have reached the top. Both approaches appear dangerous. You could call for mountain rescue – but you need to get down one way or the other. By this point, your body has flooded with hormones, and anxiety is taking hold. Before long, you are filled with regret simply for coming this far, ready to crumple down into a ball.
Up here, there is no option to stop and little opportunity for anxiety to take hold. You must choose one of the options, and it can be easy to become overwhelmed as your brain considers all the potential risks.
Overthinking does this because it is part of a defence mechanism to help keep us safe. Unfortunately, it does not discriminate on the situation. Whether we like it or not, it’s crucial to who we are.
It exists to try and help us make the right decisions – rather than to fly instinctively down any path. It’s the logical side of our brain taking control.
When overthinking takes hold like this, we ultimately have two choices. Either we stop and let anxiety consume us. Or, we commit to the best option available – and see where it leads, for better or worse.
On the other side, we quickly see how unfounded so many of our fears and thoughts were.
Becoming familiar with the unknown
There is no way to stop overthinking – nor should we want to. Instead, by embracing it, we can turn it to our advantage.
For me, the key to becoming familiar with it lay in hiking. My passive response is everpresent, considering the numerous hazards that could lead to a broken ankle or worse. As the climb’s difficulty increases, moments of paralysis become inevitable.
The same neurochemical process begins in my brain when I reach an impasse where the route forward is unclear. There is only one option – to keep moving forwards. This scenario will play out tens if not hundreds of times throughout a hike. The vast majority of times, I’ll only be stuck at an impasse for a few seconds. On a rare few occasions, it’s more like minutes.
Because of the number of times the nervous feeling in my gut kicks in, it’s no longer estranged; I expect it. Despite no clear route ahead, I now understand it’s my body preparing me for a threat that may not even exist.
By now, I realise most hazards are mere figments of my imagination. 99.9% of the time, when I look back, the impasse always looks far more daunting in my head.
It has helped me appreciate the fact that the perfect choice rarely exists. Sometimes we must choose the best of many seemingly poor options to move forward.
But by moving forward, I always gain a new perspective. In moving away from the spot I was in, I see my original position in a new light.
Choosing an imperfect route has its risks. However, it is often only a risk because we lack information.
If we always commit to taking risks, we gain information that either validates that risk (and therefore, we won’t choose it again) or disarms it (and consequently, we won’t worry about it again).
Therefore, we are better equipped to choose instinctively when similar scenarios arise again.
Taking risks feeds more information into our brains to make better decisions. In doing so, we also reduce the number of scenarios where overthinking arises – simply because it is no longer needed.
Becoming comfortable with risk
Undoubtedly, the neurochemical response beneath overthinking serves an essential function. It’s part of an instinctive reply to deal with threats.
However, the kinds of threats we face today differ from those our ancestors faced thousands of years ago.
We have the luxury of choice. As a result, the choice can become overwhelming – and when it does, other neurochemical functions, such as anxiety, take hold.
We must become familiar with what lies beyond those choices to master overthinking.
By doing so, we build an understanding that the threat is more manageable than we feared. Our passive response tends to go into overdrive when it kicks in, considering every risk – even those with a low chance of occurring.
The information we gather by doing then informs us when we are in similar situations in the future. For better or worse, the knowledge we gain makes us better prepared for the next time.
Taking more risks is easier said than done, though here is what I push myself to do.
- Acknowledge when my passive response kicks in.
- Realise this is the beginning of overthinking
- Allow it to do its thing briefly
- Assess the options available
- Commit to one, knowing analysis paralysis will soon follow if I don’t
- See the consequences for myself, and reflect on the perceived threats that never existed