Why Overthinking Is the Mind’s Way of Protecting the Heart
This isn’t just something I see in clients—it’s something I’ve seen in myself.
I’ve caught my own mind looping through every possible outcome. Replaying conversations. Planning the “right” version of what I should’ve said. Bracing for what might come next. Not because I think I can predict the future. But because I’m scared of being unprepared for it.
And when I finally slowed down enough to ask, "What are you afraid of right now?" I realized something I hadn’t fully named before:
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Overthinking wasn’t about being thorough.
It wasn’t about being smart.
It was about not wanting to feel powerless.
That’s what so much of this comes down to, isn’t it?
Control.
Safety.
The fear of vulnerability.
Overthinking is often the mind’s attempt to protect the heart—from disappointment, from rejection, from the ache of uncertainty, and from the vulnerability of not being in control.
The World Is Loud Right Now
Let’s be honest: The world doesn’t feel very safe right now. There’s war, political division, economic instability, burnout, mass shootings, rising costs, climate anxiety, and grief on both individual and collective levels. We are being asked to function—to reply to texts, show up at work, care for our families—while carrying the weight of a world that feels increasingly unpredictable.
Of course, your brain is trying to keep you safe. Of course, your nervous system is overloaded. Of course, you’re looking for control in the places you can find it—even if it means spinning in your thoughts until 2am.
Your mind wants to help. It wants to make sense of what doesn’t make sense. It wants to turn the unknown into something manageable. But often, it does that by turning you into something that has to be managed.
That’s where the ache begins.
Why Overthinking Makes So Much Sense
Some people analyze every text message.
Some rehearse conversations for hours.
Some lie awake at night rehashing a decision they already made.
Not because they’re obsessive.
Not because they’re dramatic.
Not because they’re broken.
But because somewhere along the way, life taught them that being caught off guard is dangerous. And when the body has been through stress, trauma, or emotional rupture, it doesn’t forget. Even if you don’t recall the moment clearly, your nervous system is always listening. Mental exhaustion becomes the quiet hum you forget to notice because it’s always been there.
So your brain, doing what it knows how to do, starts running simulations:
"Let’s look at this from every angle."
"Let’s prepare for the worst-case scenario."
"Let’s stay ten steps ahead—just in case."
Overthinking is a form of bracing. It’s the cognitive version of flinching, a way to manage the unbearable before it even arrives. But what we rarely talk about is what it costs.
What It Feels Like to Live in Your Head
Living in your head might feel safer, but it comes with its own quiet ache:
The disconnection from your body
The exhaustion from never feeling "done" thinking
The way joy feels muted because you’re always preparing for what could go wrong
The way presence feels impossible because your mind is always two steps ahead
The symptoms of chronic anxiety, low-grade depression, and constant ruminating
The shame spiral when even "relaxing" feels like something you're failing at
You start to believe you're just wired this way. That overthinking is a personality trait instead of a symptom. That constant tension is your default state. That you'll never be someone who feels calm in their own skin.
But it's not true. This is your nervous system trying to help you. This is your mind trying to protect you. This is your fear—dressed up in logic and laced with self-doubt—doing its best to stay in charge.
What Overthinking Really Means
I’ve come to believe that overthinking is not a flaw. It’s a response. It’s what happens when your internal world doesn’t feel safe—and when your external world has taught you to expect the worst.
And the solution isn’t to "just stop." It’s not about forcing yourself into toxic positivity. If that worked, you would’ve done it by now.
The healing starts with curiosity.
Ask yourself:
What part of me feels scared right now?
What am I trying so hard to avoid feeling?
What would it take to let this moment be uncertain—and still be okay?
Because overthinking is rarely about the thing you’re thinking about. It’s about trying to find certainty in a world that doesn’t promise it. It’s about avoiding the drop of the unknown. It’s about trying to logic your way out of vulnerability.
How to Soften When You’ve Been Living in Armor
Knowing you're bracing is one thing. Learning how to stop—how to soften when you've spent years clenching—is something else entirely.
This isn't about becoming unguarded in unsafe places. It's about learning to stop bracing against everything. Including the moments that are safe. The pauses. The people who want to meet you with care.
Because as author and mindfulness teacher Cory Muscara puts it:
"If you don't let go of control, life will always feel like a battlefield. You'll brace for impact even in moments of peace. Control promises protection, but delivers exhaustion. We aren't meant to live with a clenched jaw and guarded heart."
So how do you begin to unclench?
1. Start Noticing Your Micro-Bracing
Before you can let go, you have to notice what you’re holding. Are your shoulders tense? Are you holding your breath before replying to a message? Are you mentally preparing for conversations that don’t require preparation?
These are signs of micro-bracing. And they’re invitations to soften.
Try this: breathe out slowly. Let your shoulders fall. Let your belly move with your breath. Just notice what shifts. Nothing drastic. Just less armored.
2. Journal the Fear Beneath the Thought
When you're stuck in a loop, pause and ask: What am I afraid will happen if I don't control this?
You might find:
"If I don’t prepare for everything, I’ll be blindsided."
"If I stop performing, I won’t be loved."
"If I don’t carry this, it will fall apart."
That's the first layer.
Go a few layers deeper, and it often sounds like this:
"If I’m blindsided, I’ll look stupid—and people will lose respect for me."
"If I stop performing, they’ll realize I’m not worth staying for."
"If I don’t hold everything together, I’ll fail. And if I fail, I’m a failure."
It stops being about the situation and starts being about your identity. Not just what could happen, but what that would mean about you.
This is where control turns into a survival strategy. If being imperfect feels like it threatens your worth—your lovability, your safety, your right to just be—then control becomes armor. It becomes the way you convince yourself you're safe, even if it comes at the cost of peace.
Let the writing reveal what's underneath. Let it surprise you. Let it be honest.
3. Practice Interrupting the Loop with Mindfulness
🧠 A Note on Neural Pathways
When we talk about "rewiring the brain," we're talking about neural pathways. These are the connections your brain builds between thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. Think of them like trails in a forest: the more often you walk a path, the more familiar and automatic it becomes. The same goes for your thoughts.
Overthinking, for many people, is a deeply worn trail. You've practiced it. Not because you're broken, but because it once served a purpose. And now, with intention and repetition, you can begin to carve new trails—ones that lead to self-trust, presence, and peace.
Every time you pause. Every time you breathe. Every time you choose curiosity over control—you're creating a new path. This isn't about being perfect. It's about being gentle and consistent.
Your brain is capable of change. And so are you.
Mindfulness isn’t about being perfectly calm. It’s about catching yourself mid-loop and remembering: This is the moment I’m in.
When the urge to overthink shows up, try this:
Place one hand on your chest or belly.
Breathe in slowly. Feel your breath move.
Say silently: "This moment doesn’t need to be solved."
That’s all. No big ritual. Just a pattern interrupt.
4. Give Yourself a New Script
If your inner voice says: "Be careful. Think harder. Don’t mess up."
Try:
"I can handle uncertainty."
"I am not behind."
"I don’t need to figure it all out right now."
"I can be present without having the outcome guaranteed."
You’re not trying to fake positivity. You’re offering your nervous system a new rhythm. A new narrative to walk alongside the fear.
5. Practice Letting Go of the Outcome
This might be the hardest one.
We cling to control because we think it guarantees something. A specific reaction. A specific result. A specific future.
But often, clinging keeps us from living.
Letting go of the outcome isn’t about giving up. It’s about allowing space. For grace. For uncertainty. For the unexpected.
Let someone else take the lead. Let yourself not re-read the email one more time. Let yourself be held without overthinking whether you deserve it.
Tell yourself: This isn’t a moment I need to get right. It’s a moment I get to be in.
And see what softens.
You’re Allowed to Let Go
You’re allowed to stop overthinking. Not because everything is okay. But because you are allowed to be okay, even when everything isn’t.
If this resonated, I hope you’ll sit with it for a while. Not to analyze it. But to feel what it stirs in you.
And if you’re tired of trying to think your way to peace—I’d love to help you find a different way.
