Sometimes it feels like my head never takes a break. This constant circling of thoughts – what's now called "overthinking" – is an everyday reality for many living with mental illness. A jumble of thoughts. A carousel of thoughts. I've often told my doctors or therapists: I don't know what others think, but sometimes I feel like I think too much. Many good things, but also a lot of nonsense, and especially a lot about topics and situations that don't actually concern me at all.
When the mind never rests
Even in quiet moments, when nothing is really happening, my mind rarely finds peace. A brief glance from someone who seems "odd" after I've said something is enough – and bang, the thought engine starts up. Then it's off to interpreting, brooding, questioning. My therapist once said: "You're like a sponge." I absorb a lot around me, and a huge labyrinth of thoughts arises from it.
Thought Carousel in Everyday Life: Brooding Knows No End
A trivial example? A WhatsApp message. I see it pop up – and my head immediately starts spinning all sorts of horror scenarios. What did I do wrong? Why are they writing like that? Then I hesitate, don't read the message for ages, out of fear of its content. Or I don't answer the phone because I don't know what to expect - what the call might do to me.
And all of this doesn't come without consequences. These thoughts trigger feelings. These feelings sometimes drive me to actions that are not good for me. An apology message, even though objectively nothing happened – but my mind was convinced again that I had said something wrong. I'm tired of this constantly running engine up there, even though therapy has helped me better understand why I feel and think this way. But understanding alone is often not enough to switch it off.
Between Self-Protection and Self-Doubt
What makes the whole thing so difficult for me, and perhaps others feel the same way: I often struggle with whether I even want to get rid of it. Because this way of thinking – the extra question, the constant reflection – is also a part of me. If a flatmate closes the door too loudly, I immediately think of the third person sleeping in the next room. I'm not even directly involved, but I empathize. And that's often where my empathy arises, or in other situations, creativity. These thoughts define me – even if they burden me at the same time.
If I wanted to get rid of them, I would probably have to let go of a part of myself. But I'm often so uncertain about who I actually am anyway. Questioning myself even more would probably make me even more insecure about my personality.
