Trust the Overthinker.

I saw a quote online the other day that read: “Trust the overthinker who tells you they love you. They have, most assuredly, thought of every reason not to.” I felt this so hard. I am, after all, a prime time overthinker. I spend most of my time trying to figure out what people are thinking and why they do the things that they do and why they don’t do certain things and so on and so forth. I could tell you that I recognize this behavior is an absolute exercise in futility, because it is, but that doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t. At the end of the day, in the moment, I am thinking, and I don’t reserve that brain power for thinking about why I should still my thoughts.

I’ve spoken about this affliction before, so what’s the difference? Why are we revisiting? Well, because I feel more harmed by it lately. I could describe all the brutal people that are in my life, personally and professionally, and along those lines, paint a picture that would shift my pain and the blame outside of me. Except that I have gotten to a place where I am comfortable knowing this is a me problem.

If it feels bigger lately and I acknowledge that I am the one causing the heartache, then the simple solution is fixing it, no? Well, yes, but also, no.

The problem is that I’m not just an overthinker. That would be challenging enough. I’m also an empath. I sense and feel, deeply, others’ pain and discomfort and dissatisfaction. You get it, no? I feel others’ unhappiness and spend a lot of time wondering if I did something to cause it. I sense quiet or unrest and I ponder. I sense anger and I agonize.

This is a waste of energy, for sure, but I have trouble finding my way free of this paradigm. And people seem to have trouble concerning themselves with how they come across to others. My discomfort is basically irrelevant. Or anyone else’s for that matter. I’ve definitely spoken about this whole situation before, have I not? People just let their shit hang out and to the extent it causes others grief or creates unease, that’s irrelevant.

So, is this entire piece going to be a regurgitation of what I’ve already said? No. It’s not. Rather, I’m going to describe a shift. Not one that I’ve completely made, but one that I feel myself starting to think about.

My go-to in the types of situations that I’m describing above would be to move in close. That’s the truth. I’d be solicitous. I’d want to get as close as possible to make things nice. I’d want to see if I could secure enough information to make sense of the thing. Maybe apologize. Perhaps distract. I’d probably get a few ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ (s). I’ve done this for a long time, so it’s practiced for me. It’s my second nature. Even if I feel angry or hurt or put off, I make nice. No matter the stakes. No matter the cost to myself and my security. I just tell myself that I will feel better if there’s peace. No matter what.

I’ve come to realize that this is not the case. I mean, yes, in the moment I feel more at peace. I do. I feel calmer and less anxious. But in the long run, this behavior takes a toll. I find myself growing resentful. Impatient. More anxious. This is somewhat self-defeating, no? It’s a short-term solution for a long-term problem. Or more accurately, a short-term solution that causes a long-term problem.

Therefore, I’ve started to do something that’s really scary for me, but I feel confident will serve me better in the long run. I’m starting to take a step back. Not a huge step. Nothing monumental. Just a teeny baby step back. Like half a footstep. A shuffle, behind me.

This does so much for me, but before I describe the benefits, I want to explain how it makes me feel in the immediate.

Like shit.

I know. Maybe you didn’t expect that. It’s true though. I feel itchy, like I’m crawling out of my skin. I feel the particular sense of unrest that comes when you are breaching your own comfort zone walls. I feel terrified being so exposed. I feel exhausted. I feel sad. I feel very, very disappointed. I’m worried.

And yet, it feels important to do what I’ve advised others that they should do. I sit in the discomfort. Because that kind of distress passes. It doesn’t necessarily move outside of me as quickly as I’d like it to, but it does move, eventually. And once I have cleared that initial time, I feel a sense of peace that unquestionably surpasses anything that I feel when I immediately look to “fix” something. It feels stronger and more long-lasting. It feels real in the purest sense of realness.

I don’t have to massacre anyone, either. I don’t have to bad mouth them or create a narrative. I don’t have to undergo a full reconciliation. Sometimes these situations are as simple as telling myself that whatever that connection has been, no longer serves me. I forgive myself that I don’t have the skill set to sit in the thing and also, react appropriately. I grant myself grace for coping in a way that’s manageable for me.

Does all of this mean that my circle is getting infinitely smaller? It does. That’s the truth. I make shorter the list of my people with every moment that passes, and while that can sound scary and unappealing, I can also explain that those who are left standing at the end of the day are my true people. Not perfect people, but perfect for me. Not people who tip toe around me or look to make everything good all the time. Nope. Just people who are willing to consider that sometimes people have feelings and if you care about them, those feelings are worth consideration.

I’ve spent a lot of my life wondering why I’m different. I’ve spent a lot of time wishing that I could march to the same drummer as everyone else. But for the first time, I’m just sitting with my own melody and seeing what that feels like, what that sounds like.

And I’ll tell you something, it’s not half bad, because at the end of the day, I’m working on loving myself, and trust me, I’ve explored every reason not to.

Xo

L.