Introduction
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, because I’m hearing it from so many people right now.
The world feels heavy. Not in one specific, nameable way, but in that low-grade, persistent way that’s harder to shake because you can’t quite point to it. There’s a lot to hold. A lot to process. A lot that feels uncertain and just slightly out of reach of our control. And for many of us, that background hum of stress has a way of showing up not as obvious distress but as a mind that simply won’t stop.
If you’ve noticed your thinking getting louder, your sleep getting lighter, or your ability to actually rest getting harder to access, you’re not imagining it. And you’re not alone.
What I want to talk about today is what’s actually happening when the mind goes into overdrive, because understanding it tends to be the first thing that loosens its grip.
What’s Actually Happening Underneath
Overthinking rarely announces itself. It doesn’t show up when things are chaotic or demanding. It shows up in the in-between moments. When you finally sit down at the end of the day. When the house gets quiet. When there’s nothing urgent pulling at you.
That’s when the spiral begins.
You replay a conversation from three days ago. You second-guess a decision you already made. You run through imaginary versions of something that hasn’t happened yet. Even though part of you knows this isn’t helping, another part keeps going anyway, convinced that if you just think about it a little more, something will click into place or you’ll figure that thing out.
Here’s what I want you to understand: that part of you is not being irrational. It’s trying to protect you.
Overthinking isn’t a flaw in your thinking. It’s your nervous system doing what it was wired to do. When something feels unresolved, uncertain, or emotionally incomplete, your brain keeps the file open. It keeps scanning, reviewing, and problem-solving, not because you’re anxious by nature, but because somewhere along the way you learned that staying one step ahead was how you stayed safe.
For high-functioning people especially, this pattern runs deep. You developed a sharp, reliable inner analyst early on, and in many areas of your life, it has genuinely served you. But in a world that currently offers a near-endless supply of things to worry about, that same capacity can go into overdrive. The system designed to help you prepare and protect is now running almost continuously, without a clear off switch.
The problem isn’t that your brain is trying too hard. The problem is that it’s trying to hold too much at once. Open loops, unprocessed emotions, unspoken fears, all spinning into what feels like productive thinking.
It isn’t. It’s noise masquerading as clarity.
What Overthinking Is Actually Asking For
When you’re caught in a loop, the instinct is to try harder. To reason your way out. To make a list, talk it through one more time, or Google the answer at midnight.
But overthinking doesn’t respond to more thinking. It responds to safety.
What your nervous system is actually asking for in those moments isn’t more information. It’s reassurance that you’re okay. That you don’t have to figure everything out right now. That you can set something down without it falling apart.
The mental loops that keep you stuck are almost never about the content of the thought itself. They’re about what the thought represents underneath. The worry about the email you sent isn’t really about the email. It’s about whether you’re respected, whether you said the wrong thing, whether you’re too much or not enough. The replaying of a difficult conversation isn’t about finding the perfect reframe. It’s about a part of you that needs to feel heard, or safe, or certain, before it can let go.
This is why logic alone rarely works. You can talk yourself through the rational explanation and still feel unsettled ten minutes later. Because the part of you that’s spinning isn’t listening to logic. It’s listening for something to shift in your body, your breath, your felt sense in that moment.
What Actually Helps
The first step is the one that feels most counterintuitive: instead of trying to stop the thoughts, get curious about them.
Not to analyze them further. But to ask, gently, what they’re trying to do for you.
When you approach that spinning part of yourself with curiosity rather than frustration, something interesting happens. It slows down. Not because you’ve solved anything, but because it finally feels noticed and understood. Beneath most mental spirals is a part of you that has been working incredibly hard and hasn’t felt heard yet.
From there, the work becomes less about controlling your mind and more about creating the conditions where your nervous system can actually settle. Here’s a simple sequence I come back to often, both personally and in my work with clients. You don’t have to be in meditation to use it. It works in the middle of a busy day, in the car, or at two in the morning when the thoughts won’t stop.
Six Mindfulness Practices for When Your Mind Won’t Quiet Down
- Notice where your mind went: When the spiral starts, pause and simply name it: past or future. Not the content of the thought, just its direction. If you’re replaying something that already happened, your mind is in the past. If you’re rehearsing something that hasn’t happened yet, it’s in the future. That’s all you need to notice. You’re not trying to stop the thought or solve it. Just name where it went. And here’s why that matters: a moment ago you were inside the thought, carried along by it without realizing it. The simple act of naming it means you’ve become aware of it, which means you’re no longer completely fused with it. You can’t notice something and be fully consumed by it at the same time. That small gap is where the practice begins.
- Name the topic without following it: Once you notice the direction, name the theme loosely. Planning. Replaying. Worrying. You don’t need to solve it or understand it. Just acknowledge it the way you might nod at a neighbour. It doesn’t need an invitation inside.
- Thank it for what it’s trying to do: Whatever the mind is turning over, some part of you brought it up for a reason. A quiet “thank you, I see what you’re trying to protect me from” is enough. This isn’t about agreeing with the thought. It’s about not fighting it. Resistance keeps the loop going. A moment of genuine acknowledgment loosens it. This is counterintuitive like a Chinese finger trap.
- Come back to the anchor: Return to the breath or the body, not as an escape from the thought but as a landing place. One conscious breath. The weight of your hands in your lap. The feeling of your feet on the floor. You don’t need to feel calm. You just need something real to come back to.
- Let the mind know ‘no action is needed right now’: This is the step most people skip. After returning to the breath, gently say to yourself: nothing needs to be figured out right now. Not forever. Just right now. Your nervous system is listening, and it takes permission more seriously than you might think.
- Sink your attention into physical sensations in the body: Not thinking of the breath as a concept. Physical sensations. The specific temperature of the air as it enters your nostrils (coolness on the inhale, warmth on the exhale). The subtle rise and fall of your chest or belly. The texture of whatever your hands are resting on. Let your awareness get small and specific. The more concrete and physical your attention, the less fuel the spiral has to run on.
This sequence won’t solve everything in one sitting. But with practice, it becomes a reliable way to interrupt the loop before it builds momentum. You stop trying to think your way out of overthinking. You start recognizing the feeling underneath it, and that recognition becomes its own kind of relief.
A Note on What’s Coming Up
If this is resonating and you’ve been curious about building that kind of practice in a structured, supported way, I want to let you know that my 8-Week Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy program runs again this fall, beginning at the end of September.
MBCT is one of the most well-researched mindfulness training programs available. It was developed specifically to address the kind of ruminative thinking patterns we’ve been exploring here, and it combines mindfulness practice with a deep understanding of how thoughts and emotions interact. Over eight weeks, you build a foundation that doesn’t just help you feel better in the moment but genuinely changes how you relate to your own mind over time.
If you’ve been thinking about doing something like this, fall is a good time to start. Spots are limited and tend to fill early, so if you’re interested, I’d encourage you to reach out soon.
And if individual therapy feels more like what you need right now, I’m always happy to connect. You can book a free consultation through the portal to see if we might be a good fit.
As always, I’m glad you’re here.
