Tiny Buddha

Tag: overthinking

  • Relief from Relentless Thoughts: Reclaiming My Mind from OCD

    Relief from Relentless Thoughts: Reclaiming My Mind from OCD

    “Don’t believe everything you hear—even in your own mind.” – Daniel G. Amen

    This quote might sound like something you’d read on a coffee mug or an Instagram quote slide. But when your own mind is feeding you a 24/7 stream of terrifying, intrusive thoughts? That little phrase becomes a survival strategy.

    Sure, I have lots of strategies now. But they weren’t born from a gentle spiritual awakening or a peaceful walk in the woods. They were born out of a relentless, knock-down, drag-out fight with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A fight that started when I was a kid and stole years of my life.

    Let me be blunt: OCD is not quirky or cute. It’s not about liking things tidy or being “a little type A.” It’s a full-body, panic-inducing disorder where your brain screams, “You are in danger!”—even when there’s no actual threat.

    It’s counting in desperate loops. It’s having rituals you don’t understand but can’t stop doing. It’s fear that feels like a gun pointed between your eyes, triggered by nothing more than a thought. I know because I have OCD, or I guess I should say “had” OCD.

    Life with OCD: A War Inside My Head

    From the time I was young, my brain was hijacked by fear. Fears that something terrible would happen. That I’d lose people I loved. That I’d be misunderstood, unworthy, unforgivable. These thoughts didn’t just whisper—they screamed. And my body listened: sweaty palms, racing heart, shallow breath. Over and over, even though nothing was really wrong.

    To cope, I created rituals—compulsions that promised relief but never delivered. I’d roll my neck a certain way, flex my wrists, blink, swallow, count in rapid-fire succession—anything to feel right again. But it never really worked. Four was my magic number for a long time. I could fly through sixty-four sets of four faster than you’d believe. Still, the anxiety roared back every time.

    Want a picture of what this looked like? Here’s one from high school: I’m sitting at the kitchen table. I glance—again—at the round straw basket on the wall. I roll my neck, flex both wrists, blink, swallow. Damn it. Not right. I start the sequence again. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Again. And again. Four sets of four, done four times. Still not right. I’m drowning in invisible urgency while everyone else is just trying to eat dinner.

    I had objects in every room of the house, each one assigned to a ritual. A cherry wood clock. The edge of a curtain rod. A fluorescent light tile. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t even understand it. And I definitely didn’t enjoy it. OCD stole my time, my energy, and my sanity. If I didn’t do the rituals, I was consumed by dread. If I did them, they were never good enough. It was a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t existence.

    Thoughts That Terrified Me

    The content of my fears changed over time, but the intensity didn’t. Sometimes the dread was vague. Sometimes it was specific and disturbing—violent images, inappropriate sexual thoughts, blasphemous phrases. I obsessed that I’d pick up a knife and hurt someone. That someone I loved would die because I breathed the wrong way.

    I couldn’t write without rewriting. I couldn’t look in a mirror without fearing I’d become vain. I drew invisible lines on the floor to protect people. I had to sit a certain way, speak a certain way, think a certain way. And God help me if a “bad” thought popped into my head mid-ritual—I had to start all over again.

    At one point in college, while stuck in an endless loop of trying to put a piece of paper in a folder “just right,” I ended up stabbing a pencil into my thigh out of sheer mental exhaustion.

    I truly believed I was broken.

    Finding a Name—and a Way Out

    I didn’t even know it was OCD until I stumbled across a book and then saw a video showing other people’s compulsions. It was a holy shit moment. You mean someone else can’t fold a towel just once either?

    Once I had a name for what was happening, I could begin to untangle it. I learned that my brain was sending false messages—and that I didn’t have to obey them. A psychiatrist once explained it with a triangle: Most people’s thoughts bounce between points and move on. Mine got stuck in the triangle and just spun endlessly.

    Knowing that helped. But what really changed everything was discovering mantras.

    How Mantras Helped Me Rewire My Brain

    My mom—who also struggled with OCD—started making up little phrases with me to cut through the noise. The one that changed everything?

    “That’s a brain glitch. I don’t have to pay attention to that.”

    It sounds simple, but that phrase became a mental lifeline. It helped me step back, call out the OCD lie, and redirect my focus. It was a way to challenge the urgency of the thought without getting pulled into the ritual. And it worked—not overnight, but consistently, over time.

    Then I read Brain Lock by Jeffrey Schwartz, which broke down the exact same strategy: identify the thought, reattribute it, and refocus. I realized—I’d already been doing that with my mantras. They were helping me rewire my mind. That realization was empowering. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was retraining my brain.

    Mantras, OCD, and the Messy Middle of Healing

    Slowly, imperfectly, I stopped fighting my thoughts and started getting curious about them. I began to notice how fear hooked me—and how I didn’t have to take the bait.

    My mantras started piling up on sticky notes everywhere. They were grounding. Sometimes funny. Sometimes serious. Sometimes just sarcastic enough to cut through the noise in my head. But they worked. They reminded me of what was true. They gave me just enough space to respond differently.

    Because here’s the thing: OCD doesn’t run my life anymore. Sure, the tendencies still flare up under stress—but I have tools now. I have perspective. And I have mantras.

    Not the fluffy kind that pretends everything is fine. The gritty, scrappy, fiercely compassionate kind that says:

    • Yes, your brain is being loud right now—and you’re still allowed to rest.
    • Uncertainty is uncomfortable, not dangerous.
    • You are not your brain.
    • You can let go. Even if you have to do it a hundred times.

    If you’re someone who struggles with relentless thoughts—whether it’s OCD, anxiety, or just the everyday noise of being human—I hope this inspires you to craft your own phrases, rooted in your values and the kind of life you want to move toward, or mantras that remind you to ignore that harsh inner critic and the fears that lurk in your mind.

    You’re not alone.

    Your thoughts are not always true.

    And you are allowed to let go of thoughts that do not serve you.

    Even if you have to let go over and over and over again. That’s okay. That’s the work.

    Don’t believe everything you think. But start believing that you can heal.

  • How I Stopped Overthinking and Found Inner Peace

    How I Stopped Overthinking and Found Inner Peace

    “You don’t have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you.” ~Dan Millman

    For as long as I can remember, my mind has been a never-ending maze of what-ifs. What if I make the wrong decision? What if I embarrass myself? What if I fail? My brain worked overtime, analyzing every possibility, replaying past mistakes, and predicting every worst-case scenario.

    Overthinking wasn’t just a bad habit—it was a way of life. I’d spend hours second-guessing conversations, worrying about things beyond my control, and creating problems that didn’t even exist. It felt like my mind was running a marathon with no finish line, and no matter how exhausted I was, I couldn’t stop.

    But one day, I reached a breaking point. I was tired—tired of the mental noise, tired of feeling anxious, tired of living inside my own head instead of in the present moment. I knew I had to change.

    The Moment I Realized Overthinking Was Stealing My Peace

    It hit me during a late-night spiral. I had spent hours replaying a conversation, obsessing over whether I had said something wrong. My heart was racing, my stomach was in knots, and I couldn’t sleep.

    In that moment, I asked myself: Is any of this actually helping me?

    The answer was obvious. My overthinking had never solved anything. It had never prevented bad things from happening. It had only drained my energy and made me miserable.

    That night, I made a decision: I would stop letting my thoughts control me. I didn’t know how yet, but I knew I couldn’t keep living like this.

    How I Learned to Quiet My Mind

    Overcoming overthinking didn’t happen overnight. It took patience, practice, and a willingness to let go of control. But here are the key things that helped me find peace:

    1. I stopped believing every thought I had.

    For years, I assumed that if I thought something, it must be true. But I started noticing that most of my thoughts were just stories—worst-case scenarios, exaggerated fears, self-doubt.

    So I began questioning them. Is this thought a fact, or is it just my fear talking? More often than not, it was the latter.

    By learning to separate reality from the stories in my head, I loosened the grip overthinking had on me.

    2. I created a “worry window.”

    At first, I thought I needed to stop worrying completely, but that only made me stress more. Instead, I set aside a specific time each day (ten to fifteen minutes) when I allowed myself to worry as much as I wanted.

    Surprisingly, this helped a lot. Instead of overthinking all day, I trained my brain to contain my worries to one small part of the day. And most of the time, when my “worry window” came, I realized I didn’t even need it.

    3. I practiced “letting thoughts pass”

    One of the biggest shifts came when I stopped trying to force my thoughts away. Instead, I imagined them like clouds in the sky—passing through, but not something I had to hold onto.

    Whenever I noticed myself overthinking, I’d take a deep breath and say to myself: I see this thought, but I don’t have to engage with it. And then I’d let it go.

    4. I focused on the present moment.

    Overthinking is all about living in the past or the future. So, I started grounding myself in the present.

    Simple things helped:

    • Focusing on my breath when my mind started racing.
    • Noticing small details around me—how the sun felt on my skin, the sound of birds outside, the smell of my coffee.
    • Reminding myself: Right now, in this moment, everything is okay.

    The more I practiced this, the easier it became to step out of my mind and into my life.

    How Life Changed When I Stopped Overthinking

    I won’t pretend my mind is quiet 100% of the time. Thoughts still come, but they no longer control me.

    Now, instead of analyzing every possible outcome, I trust that I’ll handle whatever happens. Instead of reliving past mistakes, I remind myself that I am constantly learning and growing. Instead of worrying about what others think of me, I focus on how I feel about myself.

    Most importantly, I’ve found something I never thought was possible: peace.

    A Message for Anyone Struggling with Overthinking

    If you’re stuck in an endless cycle of overthinking, I want you to know this: You are not your thoughts.

    Your mind will always try to keep you safe by analyzing, predicting, and controlling. But you don’t have to engage with every thought that comes your way.

    Peace isn’t about never having anxious thoughts—it’s about learning to let them pass without letting them rule your life.

    And trust me, if I can do it, you can too.

    While these tools can be powerful, it’s also important to recognize that overthinking doesn’t always come from everyday anxiety. If your thoughts are tied to past trauma or feel too overwhelming to manage alone, please know there is no shame in seeking help. For those living with PTSD or deep emotional wounds, professional support from a therapist can offer safety, healing, and guidance tailored to your experience.

    You don’t have to go through it alone—and needing support doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

  • Lessons from a Former Overthinker: How to Start Really Living

    Lessons from a Former Overthinker: How to Start Really Living

    “Rule your mind, or it will rule you.” ~Buddha

    I used to be trapped in a cycle of overthinking, replaying past mistakes, worrying about the future, and mentally holding onto every thought, just as I physically held onto old clothes, books, and my child’s outgrown toys.

    The fear of letting go—whether of physical items or persistent thoughts—felt overwhelming. But I didn’t realize that this habit of mental hoarding was keeping me stuck in place.

    The Anxiety of Letting Go—My Last Day of School

    One of my earliest experiences with mental hoarding happened on my last day of school in 1996 before my tenth-grade board exams. When my class teacher wished us “All the very best, children, for your board exams,” I suddenly realized—it was my last day in school. This thought had never crossed my mind before, and it hit me hard.

    I’d spent over a decade there—eleven or twelve years—growing up, laughing, learning, crying, sharing tiffins, and living through every moment with my friends. The idea that I would never return to that life left me feeling overwhelmed with anxiety and sadness.

    On that day, when I returned home, I couldn’t eat lunch, nor could I sleep well. I clutched my pillow tightly, as if I could stop time from moving forward. I kept replaying all the moments, all the memories. The playground where I ran and played, the tap I used to drink water from, the desk where I sat every single day, the blackboard where I nervously wrote answers. But what truly gutted me was I would never see some of my friends again.

    Back then, there was no Facebook or Instagram to keep in touch. If you missed a day at school, you had to ask someone in person what happened, what they did over the weekend, and what their summer vacation was like. School was the only way to stay connected. I felt like I was losing a part of myself.

    I missed my evening’s Taekwondo practice. I didn’t even have the energy for dinner. I just went to bed, but my mind was restless, spinning.

    The next morning, I woke up at 3 a.m. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I needed to run. So, I dragged myself to the stadium where I used to train. I ran with all my strength, threw punches and kicks into the air, and let out loud screams with each movement.

    Sweat drenched my body, but I didn’t feel tired. Instead, I felt the tension leaving my body. As I sat on the ground, watching the first rays of the sunrise, I realized that time does not stop for anyone. Every ending is a new beginning.

    This was the first time I truly understood the power of movement and mindfulness in releasing emotional baggage. I had been hoarding memories, but by physically engaging with my emotions—through running, punching, and embracing the new day—I let go of the stiffness in my mind.

    This was my first lesson at the age of fifteen: that sometimes, the hardest goodbyes bring the lightest hearts.

    Unanswered Questions—Learning to Let Go

    In 2002, I faced another instance of mental hoarding, but this time it was about unanswered questions and emotional attachment.

    There was a girl from my school days who had been more than a friend. After school, we lost touch—there were no mobile phones or social media back then. For five to six years, I never considered pursuing anyone else, always wondering what she would think if I did. Her presence lingered in my mind, keeping me from moving forward.

    Finally, in 2002, after seven long years, I went to the school where she was working as a teacher. There was a function happening that day, and amidst the crowd, I gathered the courage to propose to her.

    Tears filled her eyes as if she had been waiting for that moment, but she neither said yes nor no. Instead, she spoke three lines, turned away, and left. I stood there, unable to move, as if my feet were rooted to the ground. It felt like a part of me had been left behind.

    For days, I couldn’t concentrate on my studies. My mind replayed those three lines over and over, searching for answers that weren’t there.

    One day, while battling my thoughts, I was hitting a tennis ball against a wall, lost in frustration. In anger, I hit it too hard, and it rebounded faster than I expected. I jumped high to catch it, but when I landed, I felt a sharp pain—a hairline fracture in my right foot. The doctor put my leg in a cast, and for forty-five days, I was confined to my home.

    During that time, I had no choice but to sit still. With nothing else to do, I turned my focus entirely to studying for my CA-Inter exam. As I immersed myself in my studies, I noticed something—the memories of that day no longer haunted me. Without realizing it, I had stopped searching for answers. I appeared for my exam soon after my cast was removed and passed successfully.

    At the age of twenty-two or twenty-three, I learned a profound lesson: Some questions don’t have answers, and the more we chase them, the more they consume us. The key is to stop searching for meaning in every unanswered moment and move forward.

    The Power of Letting Go

    A turning point came during my corporate nine-to-five job. I felt like a bird in a cage, desperate to fly but held back by uncertainty. I wanted to quit and start my own business, but I spent two years mentally hoarding fears.

    What if I fail? What about my financial responsibilities to my wife and three-year-old son? The constant loop of overthinking paralyzed me. I finally broke free in September 2012, when I quit my job and became a sub-broker in the stock market. Letting go of fear was liberating. I no longer had to be answerable to anyone, and I had the freedom I had always dreamed of.

    This experience taught me that, just like physical clutter, mental clutter keeps us stuck.

    Another powerful realization came to me in 2020 when my son insisted on buying a 55″ smart TV. I had been holding onto my old CRT TV, the very first thing I bought with my income back in January 2006. It wasn’t just an appliance—it was a symbol of my early struggles and achievements.

    I remembered how I had gone to Shimla for work in a friend’s car and excitedly purchased it on the way. Though outdated, it still worked, and I clung to it, not because of its utility, but because of the memories attached to it. Letting go felt like erasing a part of my journey.

    But in November 2020, I finally gave it away to someone in need and welcomed the new TV. It was only then that I realized that unless you make space—whether in your home or your mind—new things, new opportunities, and new ways of thinking cannot enter. This lesson extended beyond possessions; it applied to thoughts, regrets, and self-imposed limitations.

    Regret is a Waste of Time—Lessons from Professional Life

    I started investing and trading in 2009. Back then, I bought stocks that were trading in two figures and sold them after holding them for a few days or months at a 5-10% profit. A decade later, some of those stocks were trading in four figures, and the thought of what I could have gained was painful. The regret of “What if I had held onto them?” haunted me.

    But then, I reflected and realized that every decision I made—both buying and selling—was mine, based on the conditions at the time. Just as some stocks grew tremendously, others that once traded in four figures lost their value completely. I have clients who call me daily, expressing regret about missed opportunities. They saw a stock at a lower level, hesitated to buy, and later saw it jump by 25% or more. The cycle of regret is endless.

    Over time, I have trained myself to stop overthinking past trades. Now, I focus only on my present trades, whether I make a profit or a loss. If an opportunity presents itself today, I act without hesitation instead of dwelling on missed chances.

    This experience taught me an important lesson: If we cannot change our past decisions, there is no use in regretting them. Instead, we should focus on what we can do now.

    The Biggest Lesson—Accepting Life’s Impermanence

    The biggest lesson I learned came from an unexpected place, one that I never imagined would leave such an impact. In the northern part of India, especially in Punjab, where I live, there is a festival called Basant Panchami, celebrated with much joy and enthusiasm. It usually falls in January, and one of the key traditions is flying kites.

    In 2018, the festival was on January 22nd, and the day before, I went to the market with my younger brother to buy kites and strings. We were both passionate about flying kites since childhood, and that day, we were thrilled, full of laughter and excitement. We spent the morning playing music, dancing, and flying kites together, just like we had done for years.

    But what I didn’t know, what I could never have predicted, was that day would be the last time I would experience this with my younger brother. In June 2018, my brother left this world, and that was the moment I fully grasped the weight of what I had lost.

    From that day until the Basant festival in 2025, I kept the nineteen kites we had bought that day, unable to fly them, because they reminded me of him. It felt like if I flew those kites, I’d somehow be letting go of the only piece left of him. Each year, as the spring festival came around, I would hold on to those kites tightly, preserving the memory of the day we spent together.

    But this year, something changed. At the 2025’s Basant festival, I finally let go. I flew those nineteen kites. As they soared in the sky, I realized that we had bought those kites to celebrate, to enjoy life, and my brother would have wanted me to do the same.

    Holding on to them, keeping them safe, was just a way of avoiding the truth: life moves on, and sometimes, the more tightly you hold on to something, the more you lose in the process. It reminded me that, like the sand slipping from your hand when you grip it too tightly, life too must be lived with openness and acceptance.

    That realization hit me hard: life is like a moving train. We are all passengers on that train, and eventually, each passenger leaves when their station arrives, while others continue their journey. Every living thing on this Earth will vanish one day. Holding on to the past, to memories, to the “what ifs,” only weighs us down.

    I had been hoarding my thoughts and emotions for so long, thinking I could preserve them and keep them safe. But this lesson—through the act of finally flying those kites—helped me realize how destructive overthinking can be.

    It was time to stop hoarding my memories and emotions. Life is constantly moving forward, and holding on too tightly to what’s gone only prevents me from enjoying the present.

    I learned that it’s okay to let go, to free myself from overthinking, and to embrace what is happening now. Just like the kites in the sky, my brother’s memory will always be with me, but I have to live my life fully, without fear of letting go.

    The lesson I learned is simple yet profound: stop hoarding your thoughts, free yourself from overthinking, and allow yourself to truly live. Life moves forward, and so must we.

    Final Thoughts

    Freedom from mental clutter is possible. Once I let go of the thoughts that no longer served me, I made space for clarity, courage, and growth. And just like my career shift, I realized the only way to truly move forward is to stop hoarding and start living.

  • Maybe You Overthink So Much Because…

    Maybe You Overthink So Much Because…

  • Cognitive Fatigue Is Real

    Cognitive Fatigue Is Real

  • How Yoga Helped Heal My Anxiety and Quiet My Overactive Mind

    How Yoga Helped Heal My Anxiety and Quiet My Overactive Mind

    “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you really are” ~Carl Jung

    Yoga is often celebrated for its physical benefits: greater flexibility, increased strength, improved circulation, and so on. But nothing could have prepared me for the transformational effect that yoga has had on my mental health and well-being.

    I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression when I was fourteen, and I have struggled with both for most of my life. My mind was my worst enemy, constantly worrying and criticizing to the point where it became hard to do anything. Even the things I really wanted to do became too overwhelming.

    I knew about the positive impact of exercise and healthy living on mental health, and I had dabbled in yoga classes at the gym for years in an attempt to drag myself out of this hole I was in.

    I did notice some small changes in my mood and energy levels. I couldn’t explain it, but I would always feel a certain buzz after a great yoga class.

    So, in 2022, I decided to take this yoga thing seriously. I began practicing daily and even studied for a yoga teacher training qualification.

    Since then, I have noticed significant changes in not only my physical body and well-being but in my mental health too. Most notably, my anxiety levels have significantly decreased. Of course, I still have moments of anxiety, but I feel better equipped to cope with them and less likely to allow them to pull me into a downward spiral.

    Disclaimer: This is not medical health advice; it is simply my own experience. If you are struggling with your mental health, please seek a medical health professional.

    How Yoga Can Help with Anxiety

    Yoga helps you recognize your emotions and triggers.

    The first thing to know about yoga is that it is not a series of complicated poses used to make you look a certain way or increase your flexibility.

    Instead, it is an inner practice where we unite our body, mind, and spirit and become one with the universal life force energy that sustains all of life.

    Meditation and breathwork are just as important parts of yoga as the poses (known as asana).

    With this knowledge, yoga has the power to transform your mental state from a place of stress and anxiety to complete peace with yourself and the world around you.

    It allows you to notice how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking without judging yourself. It allows you to understand your body, how it works, and what messages it’s trying to communicate to you about your health and your needs.

    By learning to recognize when I felt anxious and why, yoga provided a safe space to release those triggers and emotions that I would ordinarily suppress.

    Yoga regulates your nervous system.

    When we experience high levels of anxiety, we are constantly living in fight-or-flight mode. The fight-or-flight response is designed to switch on in moments of danger and stress to protect you and then return to homeostasis once the threat has gone.

    However, in this day and age, many people are experiencing an overactive fight-or-flight response due to an increasingly stressful lifestyle. And many live in a constant state of hypervigilance as a result of trauma or abuse.

    Living in fight-or-flight mode takes up an enormous amount of energy, and our bodies cannot keep up with the demands long term. Over time, the body and mind begin to shut down and we get illness and disease as a result.

    This is what happened to me. My body could not cope with the pressure I was putting it under daily, so my mental health suffered.

    Practicing yoga allows you to calm your nervous system and creates a space where the mind and body feel safe to exit fight-or-flight mode and actually relax.

    One way to do this is through practicing breathwork, also known as pranayama.

    Yogic philosophy believes that the breath is how we can harness our energy and the energy of the universe. We can alter our emotions, energy levels, and even physiological responses, such as the fight-or-flight response, with just the breath.

    When I notice I am starting to feel anxious, I breathe deeply into my stomach for the count of four, hold it for four, and then slowly exhale for the count of four, also known as belly breathing.

    While this may sound trivial, it really helps me to feel calm in moments of stress and anxiety.

    Breathing slowly and deeply activates our parasympathetic nervous system. This sends signals to the brain that there is no danger here and the fight-or-flight response does not need to be activated.

    Yoga teaches you new coping mechanisms.

    Yoga taught me different techniques to cope with my anxiety and panic attacks.

    Firstly, yoga teaches that you are not your mind. You are not your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your body.

    When we study the five koshas (layers of the self) we can see our physical being is just a vehicle to navigate this world in; it is not who we are as a whole. For example, the koshas teach us that our essence cannot be entirely in our physical body because physical bodies are subject to change, yet who we are remains.

    This mindset applies to our thoughts too. Once I started acknowledging that my thoughts did not always come from me, they began to hold less weight. Most of our thoughts are just ‘re-runs’ of things we are told as a child or things we repeatedly hear from society that get internalized. They are not necessarily representative of who we truly are.

    This knowledge allowed me to distance myself from my anxious thoughts instead of letting them consume me.

    Secondly, through pranayama and meditation, both essential aspects of yoga, I learned to recognize how I was feeling and allow those feelings to exist within me, without trying to change them or distract myself from them.

    When we don’t allow our emotions space to be there, we are instead rejecting that aspect of ourselves. We push these feelings deeper and deeper down as a way to avoid dealing with them, without realizing we are actually ingraining them deeper into our psyche.

    By giving our emotions space to be felt, we can release them from our mind and body so we don’t have to carry them with us through our life.

    Yoga helps you be more present.

    To practice yoga, you need to be focused and in the present moment. To hold balance poses like tree pose or to get into the correct alignment of warrior 1, you need to be paying attention to what is happening around you right now.

    If your mind drifts while you’re holding a balance pose, you can bet your body will lose all balance too.

    Yoga forces you to be in the present moment, to be fully engaged in what you are doing, and doesn’t allow room to think about anything else.

    For me, this is exactly what I needed to get out of my anxiety-ridden head. One of my main struggles with anxiety was that I could not stop myself from thinking. The incessant noise of my own mind was exhausting to live with.

    However, when I am in a yoga flow, the noise stops. The mind chatter about future scenarios that will probably never happen is no longer there, as I am using all my focus to get into the proper alignment of the pose.

    The more you practice focusing, the easier it is to apply this in your daily life. I can now notice when my mind is overactive and instead re-direct it to the task at hand. By giving our full attention to the thing we are doing, we can quieten that anxious voice within and begin to enjoy the present moment.

    —

    Yoga has so many incredible benefits physically, mentally, and spiritually. Since sticking to a consistent yoga practice, I have noticed my anxiety decrease dramatically and I am able to live a full and happy life without my mind controlling me.

  • How I’m Accepting the Uncertain Future (with Less Worry and More Joy)

    How I’m Accepting the Uncertain Future (with Less Worry and More Joy)

    “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” ~Ferris Bueller

    For as long as I can remember, my life has consisted of change.

    I grew up moving around the world. I went from Canada to Pakistan, Egypt to Jamaica, Ghana to Ukraine, and then finally China to Australia.

    Moving to new countries and adapting to new cultures is like a cold plunge to your entire system and way of being. I felt I had no choice but to fit in as quickly as possible.

    By the age of six or seven years old, I pre-empted every move by being constantly prepared. I thought about every possible scenario and planned in detail how I would survive. This technique served me well as I bounced around the world, saying goodbye to my best friends and immersing myself in a whole new culture, time and time again.

    However, when I became an adult and had control over my life, I no longer needed to plan and prepare for my next move. I could live where I wanted. I could stay where I wanted. Yet my overthinking and planning continued.

    Even if I had no intention of moving to another country, my body prepared me for it anyway. It served me up a million scenarios; it prepared me for the heartbreaking goodbyes and the awkward hellos.

    I became addicted to thinking, and not the kind of thinking that earns you academic achievements. It was the kind of thinking that was built by years of worry. But the thing about worry is that it feels like productivity when in reality it’s a depleting sense of anxiety.

    It feels like I’m doing the right thing by planning ahead, and for many years I felt like this was a very good, honest way to spend my time. It seemed very normal to plan every little part of my life in infinite detail and would-be scenarios. I mean, doesn’t everyone do that?

    Apparently not. Apparently, some people deal with every situation as it comes. They don’t spend any time preemptively worrying about things before they happen or imagining all the possible scenarios that could unfold.

    Instead, these particular people go about their daily life, and once they encounter a challenge, they deal with it in the moment. They just handle the situation and then move on. I can’t even imagine how calm and pleasant it must feel to have a mind like that.

    Right now, we are in the middle of a crossroads, yet again. We are expats living in a country far away from any family and raising our young daughter on our own.

    We’re debating whether to move closer to my husband’s family or closer to mine. We’re trying to figure out what jobs we could get and how much they could pay and if we need to go back to school. We want to do what’s best for our daughter, but also for us. We want to stick to our values, but we know we can’t have it all. We’re aware we need to compromise and sacrifice something.

    My old self is rearing to plan, prepare, and organize my potential new life. It’s constantly on overdrive waiting to pounce and dive down a rabbit hole of overthinking. It hates living in uncertainty. But with this many potential scenarios, my head will explode if I sit down and think about every single one of them. Not to mention the life I will miss out on now by thinking about the life that awaits me.

    Right now, it’s summer in Australia. The days are long and warm and humid, just the way I like it. As much as I feel like I need to spend every single waking moment planning and worrying, I also want to enjoy my life now.

    The other day I went to the beach with my husband and one-year-old daughter. It was a sunny, hot day, and as we were getting ready to go, I began worrying if we’d ever find parking. “It’s okay. If there’s no parking, then we’ll just go home,” I told myself reassuringly.

    We drove to the beach, and miraculously we found parking extremely close to the water. I found a little, tiny spot under a rock with shade to ensure no one would get burned. My husband took my daughter, and off they went in the water.

    I stood back under the shade with my long-sleeved shirt and responsible hat, taking photos of them as I always do. A cheerful voice inside of me said, “Go swimming. Let’s enjoy the sun!” For the first time in a long time, I decided to go into the water.

    The water was a bit cold; I prefer when it’s very warm, but I paddled around anyway. I disregarded any fear of sharks, any fears of getting burned, and just enjoyed the water.

    My husband wanted to do a few laps, so I took my daughter and sat on the shore with her. Gentle waves crashed at our feet, and she looked up at me and smiled.

    I grabbed a fistful of wet sand, and my daughter stared in amazement as it formed into intricate blobs on my bare legs. I normally hate the feeling of sand on my body, but in that moment I didn’t even notice. She squealed in delight as I started to build little sandcastles on her legs.

    I remembered that I hadn’t put sunscreen on my back, and I’m very pedantic about sunscreen. I wondered if we should move to the little shady spot I found up on dry sand. But we were having so much fun there I didn’t want to leave. I could tell my daughter didn’t either. So we stayed.

    The waves came again and again, washing away the sandcastles we built. My husband came out of the water and joined us. I felt so much love and happiness in that moment. I wanted to run to my purse and get a photo of how happy we were. But instead, I sat there continuing to build sandcastles.

    When we finally got home, my back was burnt. Normally this would really concern me. I have known people who have died of skin cancer, and I do everything I possibly can to avoid a burn. But on this very day, I let myself be sunburnt. I let it be okay.

    I had so much fun at the beach that reflecting on it left me with tears in my eyes. I cannot remember the last time I was so fully present, alive, and engaged.

    So often the voice of anxiety is pulling me away from my life and trying to protect me by forcing me to think about all the things that could go wrong and how best to avoid them. For once, I didn’t let that voice win, and it wasn’t a battle. It was a natural feeling of allowing another voice, the one of calm, to take center stage.

    I know I can’t plan for everything. But I’m trying to take confident strides in the direction of what feels right, moment by moment. Believing that whatever comes, I can handle it. Life happens fast, and I don’t want to miss these many special moments building castles in the sand with my little family.

  • 7 False Beliefs That Will Keep You Trapped in Your Head Forever

    7 False Beliefs That Will Keep You Trapped in Your Head Forever

    “There is only one cause of unhappiness: the false beliefs you have in your head, beliefs so widespread, so commonly held, that it never occurs to you to question them.” ~Anthony de Mello

    When people come to me suffering from anxiety, fear, anger, self-judgment etc., there are five things they invariably believe to be true.

    Let’s take anxiety as an example. Most (if not all) people with anxiety believe that:

    1. It’s bad or wrong to feel anxious.
    2. It shouldn’t be there.
    3. There’s something wrong with me (for being anxious).
    4. My mind should be peaceful.
    5. I can’t experience peace until my anxiety is gone.

    Pretty much everyone nods in agreement as I take them through this list.

    Few people, if any, would question the truth of these statements.

    They are, as the spiritual teacher Anthony de Mello says:

    “Beliefs so widespread, so commonly held, that it never occurs to you to question them.”

    And I’d say that these beliefs alone produce 98% (if not more) of the unnecessary suffering that most people experience.

    Maybe you’ve heard the expression “pain is inevitable, suffering is a choice”?

    Experiencing anxiety is unpleasant. There’s no denying it’s a painful experience.

    But it’s our beliefs and mental commentary about anxiety that cause most of the suffering.

    “Anxiety is awful. I hate it. I can’t go on like this. What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I’m so screwed up. I’ll never be happy again.”

    The mind’s commentary about the anxiety adds fuel to the fire and turns a painful experience into full-blown suffering.

    Lasting peace can never be found on the level of thinking. The mind is restless by nature. It’s not wrong. It’s simply how the mind is.

    To end suffering, we need to change the way we relate to the mind.

    And to do this, we need to see through the false beliefs that hold us captive.

    As long as you believe that certain thoughts are bad or wrong, that they shouldn’t be there, and that there’s something wrong with you for having them, you will continue to suffer… not so much from the thoughts themselves but because of your beliefs about them.

    The solution is so simple that most people overlook it completely.

    Getting to Know the Mind Better

    There’s a quote from Abraham Lincoln I like to use:

     “I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better.”

    Exactly the same logic applies to your anxiety, depression, fear, or critical inner voice.

    If you don’t like your anxious thoughts, resisting them won’t help.

    The answer is to get to know them better.

    The Two Approaches to Becoming Free of the Mind

    There are two approaches we can take to find more inner peace.

    The first is to try to fix or change our thoughts through “working on ourselves.”

    I tried this approach for years and discovered that change comes painfully slowly… if at all.

    After years of effort, I had very little to show for it.

    Then I had a breakthrough.

    On a six-month meditation retreat, I stumbled upon a completely different approach to dealing with the mind—a way that was much easier, much more effective, and far quicker, immediate in fact.

    Through getting to know my thoughts (and feelings and emotions) better, I came to a completely different understanding about myself, my mind… and the path to peace.

    I saw that:

    It’s not your thoughts, feelings, or emotions that cause you to suffer. Suffering is self-created through the way you relate to them.

    See through the false beliefs that hold you captive, and your troublesome thoughts will no longer have the same power to affect your peace.

    Since then, I’ve outlined 7 false beliefs that keep most people trapped in their heads for life.

    The 7 False Beliefs That Will Keep You Trapped in Your Head Forever

    “Demand is born out of duality: ‘I am unhappy and I must be happy.’ In the very demand that I must be happy is unhappiness.”  ~Jiddu Krishnamurti

    The beautiful thing about beliefs is that the moment you see through them, they lose their grip on you. You become liberated in the seeing alone. It requires no time.

    False Belief #1: The mind should be quiet and peaceful; otherwise, there’s something wrong.

    I love the following quote from the Indian spiritual teacher Nisargadatta:

    “There is no such thing as peace of mind. Mind means disturbance; restlessness itself is mind.”

    Restlessness is the nature of the mind. Expecting it to be quiet and peaceful is like expecting water to be dry or expecting the grass to be pink.

    It’s not the restless nature of the mind that disturbs your peace. It’s the belief that there’s something wrong and that it should be different.

    You don’t suffer because the mind is restless. You suffer because you believe it shouldn’t be.

    Expect the mind to be messed up, crazy, confused, and anxious. Don’t be surprised. There’s nothing ‘wrong.’ It’s called being human.

    False Belief #2: Suffering is caused by negative thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

    What if it were possible to feel down, sad, concerned, anxious even—and to remain perfectly at peace throughout?

    Negative thoughts, feelings, and emotions, although unpleasant, are not the primary cause of suffering. We suffer because we reject them, think there’s something wrong, and believe they shouldn’t be there.

    If you don’t mind feeling sad, don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, and don’t think the feeling needs to go for you to be okay, you can be sad and peaceful at the same time.

    Most people confuse peace with feeling good. It’s not the same.

    Our thoughts and emotions are like clouds passing across the sky. It’s inevitable that there will be dark ones as well as light ones.

    The key to ongoing peace is to embrace them all. Even if they don’t feel good.

    And anyway, what makes a thought negative? Another thought that says so.

    False Belief #3: It’s bad/wrong to be anxious, down, and depressed, or feel unworthy.

    This belief definitely falls under the category of “beliefs so widespread, so commonly held, that nobody thinks to question them.”

    Most of us enjoy warm sunny days more than dark cloudy ones.

    But it doesn’t make cloudy days bad or wrong—less pleasant perhaps, but not wrong.

    In the same way, the challenging thoughts and emotions that cloud our inner sky are not inherently good or bad, right or wrong. Like the weather, they are neutral events—part of the human condition.

    The real problem (or only problem, in fact) is the notion that unpleasant = wrong.

    And this belief, in turn, triggers the mental commentary: “It shouldn’t be there, there’s something wrong with me that needs fixing, I’m unacceptable as I am, I can’t be happy until it’s gone,” etc.—in other words, suffering.

    False Belief #4: I can’t experience peace until this/that pattern is resolved.

    I talk to many people who have been waiting for twenty years for their anxiety to be healed so they can start living again.

    And I’ve seen lifelong anxiety sufferers experience deep peace within a minute or two through seeing through certain beliefs.

    I call it the path of understanding, as opposed to the path of self-improvement.

    Peace is your nature. And it’s ever-present, no matter what is going on in the mind.

    People wait, often for years, for the dark clouds of anxiety, sadness, or self-doubt to move on, before they can get back to living life to the full.

    There’s a powerful meditation called the “Noticing Exercise” that I like to share with people who believe they can’t experience peace just as they are.

    Without going into too much detail here, I ask people to bring a difficulty to mind, and then, through directing their attention to what’s happening right here, right now, I guide them to become fully present in the moment.

    When I ask them afterwards how their experience was, they usually use words like “peaceful,” “still,” or “expansive.”

    And when I then ask what happened to their difficulty during the exercise, people invariably say, “Oh, I totally forgot about it.” More evidence that you don’t have to wait for your issues to be healed before you can live fully.

    Peace is available right here, right now—no matter what is going on in your mind or in your life.

    False Belief #5: Engaging with the mind is mandatory.

    If you had told me years ago, when I was a chronic overthinker struggling to find any peace at all, that engaging with the mind is not mandatory, I would have said you were nuts.

    When thinking is unconscious and running on autopilot, as is the case with most people, it feels like it’s something that’s happening to you—as if you are an innocent victim being bombarded by an unrelenting torrent of thoughts, and that you have no choice but to listen.

    You’re not so much thinking as being thunk!

    But here’s the truth. You are the one in charge, and the mind only has as much power as you give it. It may not seem this way, but it’s true.

    As we saw previously in the “Noticing Exercise,” you are free to withdraw your attention from the mind in any moment. Thinking is a choice. It’s not mandatory.

    Mooji, a teacher I like a lot, says that we suffer because we are open for business. If you choose to close up shop, the mind becomes powerless to affect your peace.

    When you learn to step back and watch the mind objectively, you can choose whether to get involved or not. Overthinking is an unconscious habit you can learn to let go of.

    False Belief #6: I’m responsible for the thoughts in my head.

    Try closing your eyes for a moment and, like a cat intently watching a mouse hole, watch to see what your next thought will be.

    You’ll discover that you have no idea what’s going to appear.

    Thoughts are self-arising. You play no part in their appearance.

    Thinking is a different matter.

    For years, I used to judge myself harshly for the thoughts that appeared in my head. I used to think there was something wrong with me for having angry thoughts, jealous thoughts, sad thoughts, etc.

    The mind is a lot like a computer. It spits out thoughts in accordance with your programming—the cultural impressions you picked up as a child and through your unique life experiences.

    Your thoughts are not who you are.

    Which brings us to the final false belief:

    False Belief #7: I am my thoughts.

    For much of my life, I was compulsively preoccupied with the content of my mind. My thoughts were like a tight ski mask glued to my face, and they pretty much filled up my entire inner space.

    Through meditation, I was gradually able to create more and more space between myself and the thoughts and learn to observe them objectively and non-judgmentally—to see the thoughts, not be the thoughts.

    I discovered that there was another dimension of my being that was untouched and unaffected by the passing traffic of thoughts.

    The analogy of the sky and the clouds is often used in meditation practice.

    All types of cloud pass across the sky—dark ones, light ones, big ones, small ones, fast moving clouds, slow moving clouds—but the sky has no preference and always remains the same.

    I discovered that thoughts are not “me” and that, through learning to remain as the witnessing presence, they lost their power to affect my peace.

    When you leave the mind in peace to do its thing, it will leave you in peace to do yours.

    Peace is your nature; not the peace that comes and goes as passing clouds, interspersed with restless thoughts, but the unchanging peace of your true nature.

    You are not your thoughts. And knowing this is real peace.

  • How Overthinking Ruined my Relationships and How I Overcame It

    How Overthinking Ruined my Relationships and How I Overcame It

    “Overthinking ruins you. It ruins the situation. And it twists things around. It makes you worry. Plus, it just makes everything worse than it actually is.” ~Karen Salmansohn

    I grew up with parents who believed a kid shouldn’t have friends and should be indoors always. Because of that, I never had real friends in my childhood, except those I met in school and church.

    Since my early teenage years, loneliness has been my forte, and I have learned to pay too much attention to details. When people talk, I look at them, how they react, their facial expressions, etc. I try to draw out details from the tiniest cues and put a lot of thought in them.

    Conversations, of course, are meant to be enjoyed; however, for me, that isn’t the case. During a discussion, I think of a million ways it could go wrong. I wonder what I’ll say next after I get a reply. And a slight change in a listener’s facial expressions makes me think I’m bothering them—they dislike me, I’m boring, I need to stop talking.

    Having real friends has been difficult for me. I find it challenging to maintain a friendship for long. When I meet with someone for the first time and we both “connect,” I start fantasizing about how we might become everyday gist mates, lifetime buddies, and even in a romantic relationship (for ladies).

    Sometimes, I get tired and want to stop overthinking, but it always seems impossible. The tiniest of details always want to be thought of and processed. And instead of taking action on what I think, I continue thinking about it.

    So many opportunities have slipped through my fingers, making me not confident enough to take action. Except this one time I wanted to enroll in a writing competition. I tried every possible way to discourage myself from applying. I reminded myself of harsh critics and writing rejections I’ve faced in the past, but I never gave in to the voice. I tried to shut it up and applied for the competition—and I won.

    I don’t think I’ll ever fully stop overthinking. I’ve accepted it as a part of me I have to live with, but I’ve also made great progress in getting past it.

    If overthinking has affected your confidence and held you back as well, perhaps some of my techniques will help.

    1. Acknowledge that you’re overthinking.

    When overthinking starts ruining your mood or stops you from taking action, acknowledge it. Don’t beat yourself up or hate yourself for it.

    If you’re anxious to do something because you’ve been obsessing about it, acknowledge that you’re afraid. When we acknowledge something, our brain has a way of providing solutions for us.

    In fact, I started making real progress when I accepted myself as a big overthinker and this helped me love and accept myself instead of hating myself.

    2. Declutter your mind regularly.

    Decluttering your brain is the key to having a settled mind. You could speak to someone—it helps—or write down every thought running through your mind (my favorite technique to calm my mind).

    If, for instance, someone offends you and you can’t get it off your mind, talk to them about it. If you’re obsessing about an interaction with someone you can’t talk to, journal about it. The goal is always to take action whenever possible instead of ruminating on things that are bothering or worrying you.

    3. Don’t expect too much from people.

    The truth is, people will disappoint you. And this will hurt you even more when you place high hopes on them.

    To be on the safer side, don’t place so many expectations on people. People change; things happen, and people go back on their words.

    If you expect that people will disappoint you sometimes, you’ll be less likely to overthink things when they do. Instead of wondering why it happened and if you did anything to contribute to the situation, or if you should have done something differently, you’ll simply accept that people often don’t keep their promises, and you don’t need to take it personally.

    4. Work on developing self-confidence.

    Most times, overthinking is caused by a lack of self-confidence.

    There were times when I found it hard to connect with people. I believed I was a boring conversationalist, so whenever I was talking with someone, I’d always try hard to prove my belief wrong—sometimes unnaturally—to keep a pointless conversation going when I could end it.

    If you aren’t confident in what you bring to the table, you will always overthink your way into believing it’s always your fault if a conversation or something doesn’t go as expected. So instead of telling yourself that you’re lacking in some way, work on believing in your worth, and this will help you question yourself less in difficult situations.

    5. Know when to take a break.

    During a stressful day, it’s normal to have a lot running through your mind.

    Whenever you start worrying about mistakes you’ve made with other people or find the thoughts in your head feel overwhelming, take a break. Take nap, take a walk, practice deep breathing, or do an activity you enjoy to help you get out of your head.

    6. Resist the urge to impress people.

    Most overthinkers have a strong urge to impress and please other people. When in a conversation, they may carefully pick their words, and then obsess about whether they’ve said anything stupid or wrong.

    That said, a friendship based on trying to impress or please another person will be one-sided and may not last.

    People don’t want to feel like they’re being worshipped in a friendship. They want to know the real you—both the exciting and boring parts of you—so it turns them off when you make a conversation about them alone.

    When talking with people, say what you mean in the way you want to say it and trust that the right people won’t pick apart everything you say and will actually appreciate you for being you.

    7. Accept that you can’t be friends with everyone.

    Even as you try to make friends, you should know that not everyone will like you.

    You may try hard to make someone acknowledge you and be friends, but you won’t click with everyone, and you don’t have to overthink it.

    You aren’t meant for everyone, so if someone disrespects or ignores you, it isn’t your fault. You have to find people who like you and let go of the ones who don’t.

    8. Enjoy the moment and try not to think about tomorrow.

    In all you do, make sure you’re present in it. You can’t be in two places at the same time. In the same way, you can’t expect to enjoy the present if you worry too much about the past and future.

    Make it a rule to always be in the moment, focusing on the people right in front of you. If you let yourself be fully in the moment with them, you’ll worry a lot less about what they’re thinking of you (and about everything else, for that matter).

    —

    Ever since I started practicing all I mentioned above, I’ve been happier in life than ever before. Making friends with people and holding conversations has become much easier for me.

    I failed many times when trying to rewire my brain, but I never gave in. I made the end goal, to make good friends and enjoy life as much as possible, my mantra. Now I overthink a lot less and connect with people more, and I believe you can do it, too!

  • You Can’t Obsess Your Way into Feeling Better

    You Can’t Obsess Your Way into Feeling Better

  • What If Your “Overthinking” Is Actually Good for You?

    What If Your “Overthinking” Is Actually Good for You?

    “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” ~Marcus Aurelius

    Overthinking is common. And everyone is asking us to stop it. Articles like these are abundant:

    “7 Signs You Are an Overthinker”

    “13 Strategies to Stop Overthinking”

    “9 Tips to Overcome Overthinking”

    The overthinker in me is starting to question the effectiveness of all this well-meaning advice. If it were that easy to stop, there can’t be so much of it still.

    I can’t help but wonder if we are looking at overthinking too negatively. Could overthinking be a part of human nature that actually has benefits? Otherwise, wouldn’t evolution have weeded out this useless trait by now?

    Surely, the universe has not made a mistake by giving human beings a brain so prone to overthinking. Surely, the overthinkers amongst us are not mistakes?

    Yes, many a times I feel like a mistake when being told “you think too much” and “don’t overthink it.” Is there something wrong with me?

    Years of Thinking Before a Life Decision

    For as long as I’ve known, I’ve thought a lot. This served me well in school and at work, as I was recognized for my analytical abilities and rigor of thinking.

    However, when it comes to personal matters like family, relationships, or career problems, this deep thinking power of mine becomes seen as overthinking.

    Several years back, I was dealing with a failing marriage and a challenging new job posting at the same time. Amidst the stresses and unhappiness, I found my brain constantly thinking about what was happening and what I could do.

    As I thought and thought, the situation appeared rather hopeless. I wanted to leave the marriage—but what about our child, our financial commitments, our religion, our closely-knit families? I wanted to leave the job—what if I could not find a better job because of my age, specialized experience, poor job market, people factors?

    When I tried to share all these thoughts with friends, I often attracted a “you are overthinking” comment.

    Initially, I thought the problem was really me. I wished I wasn’t such an overthinker.

    But was I really overthinking? These were important factors, shouldn’t we be thinking about them thoroughly before making any decisions?

    It hurt when people seemed dismissive of the fears and concerns that arose as I thought deeply about the issues. Since they were not going to try to understand, I guess I just had to stop telling them.

    I can now confidently say, had it not been for the rigor of my thoughts back then, I would not have had a relatively smooth divorce and a change of jobs within the same period of time. They did not come about from luck—they came about from careful, thorough thinking that allowed me to take actions to mitigate possible fallouts.

    I planned and executed my divorce and job switch as I would a multimillion-dollar deal. To others, it might have been overthinking. To me, it was necessary thinking.

    The Definition of Overthinking—Inherently Negative

    Overthinking in itself is already negatively defined. According to Cambridge Dictionary, overthinking is “the action of thinking about something too much, in a way that is not useful.”

    Let me zoom in on the two descriptors in the definition.

    Firstly, “too much” is a very subjective term. It necessitates that there must be a “just right” level as a basis of comparison. Isn’t it a fine line between “thinking too much” and “thinking just right”? Where you draw that line is most likely different from where I draw it.

    And just as there is the possibility of “too much,” there is also the possibility of “too little.” Not giving sufficient thought to issues can be just as, if not more, harmful.

    Secondly, “not useful” is also a very subjective term. Let me give a simple example:

    A young girl goes to a supermarket to buy capsicum for her mother. Her mother had forgotten to specify the color of capsicum she had wanted. The young girl stands looking at the variety of capsicum in the supermarket, thinking for an extended time which color she should buy.

    If you had stood by the girl and watched her, you might think “why is she taking so long to make a decision? She must be overthinking, just pick any color!” To you, thinking about the color of capsicum to buy is definitely not useful.

    But the girl knows different. Her mother has a temper that few can tolerate. The last time she brought home normal carrots instead of baby carrots, her mother had gone into a violent fit, screaming at the top of her voice and lambasting her on her stupidity. Thinking carefully which color of capsicum to buy is definitely useful for the girl to avoid the same punishment.

    Although her mother did not specify the color, the girl carefully recalls what dish her mother might be preparing and whether her mother had used a specific color before. It takes more time than usual but she makes a calculated guess.

    What is useful to her may not be useful to you or me. Do we have sufficient information to judge?

    Incidentally, that little girl was me.

    Why is Useful Thinking So Often Mistaken as Overthinking Then?

    People generally have no time or patience to listen. And we are not particularly effective at articulating and summarizing our thoughts well.

    Without sufficient information and understanding about one another’s lives, the judgment that many of us are overthinking can easily arise.

    Think about it, how many people in your life have truly spent time to understand your problems and thought processes? One or two good friends? And perhaps therapists and counselors who are paid to do so.

    Many a times, after hearing our issues in depth, these friends and therapists understand where we are coming from and help us achieve greater clarity about our issues.

    When we think a lot about an issue, we are likely to dissect an issue to great depths—we see all angles, the positives and the negatives. The problem is that we tend to talk more about the negative aspects of an issue and give the impression that we are only thinking negatively (= not useful, therefore overthinking).

    Speaking for myself, I tend to assume that the positive parts of an issue are obvious and need not be discussed at length. It is the negative parts that warrant focus because they need to be mitigated or resolved.

    So How Do We Engage in Useful Thinking?

    Thinking is a human superpower. Considering how complex the human brain is, should we even be surprised that we are capable of thinking a lot?

    This Scientific American article estimates that the brain’s memory storage capacity is around 2.5 petabytes (or a million gigabytes), with more than a trillion connections between one billion neurons. This roughly translates to storage of three million hours of TV shows (or running the TV continuously for more than 300 years).

    If that is our brain’s storage capacity, what about its processing capacity. The human brain is known to be much more efficient at processing than computers. What might take a computer a few million steps to calculate can be achieved by a few hundred neuron transmissions in the human brain (see “The Human Brain vs Supercomputers… Which One Wins”). In addition, humans are capable of advanced planning and decision-making, humor and morality (BBC Science Focus).

    This superior cognitive capacity sets us apart from other animals. The same brainpower, it seems, also makes us prone to overthinking.

    What we can do to harness this tremendous brainpower is to ensure that most, if not all, of our thinking is useful thinking? Here are four quick principles to keep in mind:

    1. When thinking, consciously push for greater clarity of the issues, with the goal to reach a decision or a plan of action within a certain timeframe. (Kinda like what we do in our jobs.)

    Note: Deciding not to do anything at the moment about a problem (e.g. failing marriage) because there are too many constraints (e.g. children’s welfare) is also a decision. Thinking thoroughly about it allows us to better understand the situation and either choose to accept it or do something to change things.

    2. Recognize when the thinking gets stuck and leads to confusion or anxiety. This is when talking it out with someone can be useful.

    3. It is okay to be selective about who to talk to. Some people will not have the patience or sincerity to hear out our issues and will likely judge us as overthinking.

    4. When talking out issues with someone, it is good to touch on both the positives and negatives. This helps people understand that we have thought through the issue from many angles before zooming in on specific parts that need addressing.

    Differentiating Between Useful Thinking and Overthinking

    Perhaps generally, we can say that the thinking is not useful if it results in extended periods of confusion, anxiety, or inability to make a decision.

    Conversely, if thinking a lot about something eventually leads to greater clarity, careful plans, and robust decisions, then the thinking can be considered very useful.

    The only people who can truly differentiate between useful thinking and overthinking are ourselves and the people who understand us well.

    As the saying goes, nobody has walked in our shoes. Our childhood, upbringing, and decades of life experiences set the context of our thinking patterns.

    Let’s not be so quick to judge that we ourselves or other people are overthinking. Have we truly listened and tried to understand?

    I’m not dismissing the fact that there may be medical reasons if we are frequently engaged in thinking that is not useful. There has been a lot written about overthinking as a symptom of or giving rise to anxiety and depression.

    But we should also refrain from passing judgment or assigning a medical condition so quickly to an action that many of us engage in, at least sometimes if not often.

    I am sure philosophers and sages across centuries (like Seneca, Confucius, and Gandhi) may have been seen as overthinkers in their time. But how useful their thoughts have been to benefit and inspire generations.

    While analysis paralysis is a real problem, when it comes to significant life decisions, I would rather err on the side of caution by thinking too much than thinking too little.

  • Overthinking Is That Thing You Do When…

    Overthinking Is That Thing You Do When…

  • My “Stress” Was Actually High-Functioning Anxiety

    My “Stress” Was Actually High-Functioning Anxiety

    “Anxiety is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you very far.” ~Jodi Picoult

    Many years ago, I worked in the technology sector in Austin, Texas, which is a big “tech town.” I was incredibly focused on building my career and earning a higher and higher salary.

    I also have two daughters, who were in elementary school at the time. I’m divorced and am the primary care giver for them. Like so many divorced moms, I was doing a lot.

    I would run through a mental list of daily to-dos from the time I woke up and continue to do so throughout the day. I didn’t want to forget anything. I was juggling home life, work life, and trying to have a personal life too.

    Overwhelmed? You bet I was.

    I frequently felt like I was rushing from one thing to the next, all day long. Rush to get the kids and myself out the door in the morning. Rush to work.

    At work, I would be focused on getting everything done so I could be out the door in time to get home to make dinner and help with homework. I usually also had some sort of housework to do in the evening.

    I rushed to get my daughters to bed on time and hoped I would have enough time for some “me time” so I could actually relax and have some quiet time before bed.

    But, I’d already be thinking about the list of things I had to do the next day, and the cycle would start all over again.

    What I thought I felt was stress. We all hear the phrase “I’m so stressed out,” particularly when we have a lot going on. That described me perfectly. I was constantly busy, so I was constantly stressed.

    Or so I thought.

    What I actually was suffering from was high-functioning anxiety.

    High-functioning anxiety isn’t a specific type of anxiety, but rather a term that refers to anxiety where the individual is still highly functioning, with the anxiety “just below the surface.” 

    Think of high-functioning anxiety as hidden anxiety, where others may not realize someone has anxiety at all.

    Individuals with high-functioning anxiety are often very successful and tend to be high achievers. Their anxiety doesn’t prohibit them from accomplishments. In fact, their anxiety may be part of the reason they are successful.

    Their anxiety drives them to do more in both their personal and professional life. To outsiders, they will appear put-together, competent, and often appear calm.

    But on the inside, those with high-functioning anxiety spend a lot of time overthinking and ruminating. They are afraid of failure and worry about what others think of them.

    This described me perfectly.

    I had never heard of high-functioning anxiety and had a perception of those with anxiety as people who are fearful, wide-eyed, and maybe even shaky or jittery. I thought that people with anxiety couldn’t function “normally” and that their anxiety would perhaps even be debilitating.

    I didn’t think that anxiety applied to me at all.

    But I am high-achieving and successful, and anxiety is a big part of what got me to where I was at that point in my life. I didn’t realize that I had anxiety, and no one else would have either.

    That constant mental to-do list I mentioned? That was me overthinking. And it wasn’t just my daily to-do list that I was overthinking, it was everything.

    I overthought regarding my daughters and their school work. I overthought about what needed to be done in terms of housework. I overthought about other people and their motivations, why they said specific things or why they didn’tsay things.

    My mind was constantly going, chattering away.

    I had my sights set so high, particularly as it pertained to my career, that I was afraid of failure and thought the mental obsessions at work were me just “pushing myself” or me doing a good job.

    Truly, I thought that the way I felt was part of what gave me my edge, and that people I thought of as less successful were people who were lazy, or didn’t spend time thinking enough about how they wanted to be and how they wanted to get somewhere in life.

    The problem is that those with high-functioning anxiety are just as at risk as others with an official mental health diagnosis of an anxiety disorder. They are prone to mental and physical fatigue, and could be likely to use alcohol or drugs as a coping method.

    And I did get mental and physical fatigue. In fact, I wound up developing a severe autoimmune reaction that was triggered in part by the anxiety. I had been operating at a heightened state for so long that my body and nervous system could no longer cope.

    My body just “gave out.”

    That illness was a huge wake up call for me and led me down a path to healing myself that I never could have anticipated. I took a holistic approach to healing that included a radical diet change, journaling, and energy healing.

    I also started to do a lot less. I let things go because I had to.

    It took me about a year and a half to heal my body and along the way, it was my mind that healed too.

    I started to really assess who I had been and the path I had been on, and frankly, how unhealthy I had been in my mental churning and preoccupations. I still didn’t realize that I had been in the throes of high-functioning anxiety (I stumbled upon the concept later), but I did realize that I didn’t want to be the person that I was before.

    I wanted to be at peace.

    If you suspect that you have high-functioning anxiety, know that you can heal also.

    One healing technique I often use, still to this day, is the “feet on the floor” method, which is a very simplified but highly effective alternative to meditation. It can be done either sitting or standing.

    With your feet on the floor, focus on feeling your feet touching down. Feel your entire foot as much as you can: heel, sole, ball of foot, and toes. Still focusing on your feet, take a few deep breaths.

    When you feel your feet on the floor, you become very present to the moment and get out of your head. This technique brings you into the moment and can help calm you down, particularly when you feel yourself spiraling with racing thoughts.

    Plus, this technique is super sneaky. You can do it anywhere and no one knows you’re doing it. You can be sitting at your desk at work, standing in line at the grocery store, etc. and no one around you will have any idea you are using this technique.

    The more you practice feeling your feet on the floor, the more often you’ll automatically do it without having to remind yourself to do it. Once you feel yourself start to get anxious, you’ll use the technique almost like second nature, because you’ve trained yourself to do it and it is so effective.

    Another way to manage your high-functioning anxiety is to make abstract art that represents how you want to feel instead of anxious.

    You don’t have to consider yourself an artist to use this technique. A simple blank white sheet of paper and some markers are all that are needed. Just let your hand flow with colors, shapes, and patterns that represent how you want to feel. If you do happen to be artistically inclined, you could draw a self-portrait or you in some scene or setting where you feel calm and joyous.

    When you’re creating art, you’re accessing a totally different part of your brain than you use when you’re in the midst of anxiety. Being artistic is a way for you to tap into another part of you that is outside of the anxiety. Plus, it can be very cathartic to create.

    Use these two techniques often, plus focus on making small changes and know that it will take time to heal. You’ll have good days and bad days. In working through your anxiety, focus on the good feelings when you have them and tell yourself that you want more of them.

    They will be your anchor.

  • There’s a Difference Between Overthinking and Deep Thinking

    There’s a Difference Between Overthinking and Deep Thinking

  • How to Get Out of Your Head and Stop Overthinking Everything

    How to Get Out of Your Head and Stop Overthinking Everything

    “It’s not a matter of letting go, you would if you could. Instead of ‘Let it go,’ we should probably say ‘Let it be.’” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

    I always believed that a busy mind was a bad thing.

    And for a large part of my life, it was.

    Looking back, I don’t ever recall a time when I wasn’t caught up in my thoughts. There was always a “narrator” in my head. A constant commentary.

    I tried meditating but would spend ten agonizing minutes trying desperately to push my thoughts away or make them stop, which we know is impossible. Not thinking wasn’t unlike attempting to separate a limb from my body. Yup, such was my attachment to my thoughts.

    Yoga presented yet another futile attempt at mindfulness. I’d notice the other participants perfectly present and focused, while my mind would be hammering away, comparing me to others, debating why I was actually there, or criticizing my performance.

    The uninformed might think that only “negative” overthinking is the problem. However, in my experience over analysis or overthinking of any topic or event (even really happy ones) generally leads to a bad feeling place.

    For example, if someone paid me a compliment I would more often than not talk myself into believing that I wasn’t deserving of it. That the person in question was simply being kind, or feeling pity for me.

    Back then I felt trapped. My thinking mind was something I feared. It could start up at any time and unravel me. I would long to be able to simply switch it off.

    I over-analyzed everything. Simple conversations would become unnecessarily intense and uncomfortable. I found hidden meanings in every innuendo.

    My thinking knew no limits. It would scrutinize the past, present, and future. And boy, could it create some intense stories—none of which were true, of course.

    I felt cursed. Burdened. Why couldn’t I be normal??

    And, of course, those near and dear to me reflected that back to me.

    “Get out of your head!”

    “Don’t overthink everything!”

    “Why do you need to analyze everything??”

    And my personal favorite…

    “It must be exhausting being you.”

    It was exhausting. I was at constant war with myself. Was there a way to think less? Could I dummy-down my thoughts?

    In desperation, I learned how to smother my thinking. Food, drama, and bad relationships became my vices. They enabled me to co-exist with my manic mind.

    I was simply a victim of my thinking. Out of control.

    Until I happened upon a new understanding about our thinking.

    It’s an understanding that’s completely changed my life, about how our thinking is separate from who we truly are.

    We are not our thoughts. Nope, quite the opposite.

    We have a constant stream of thoughts meandering through our minds. That’s part of being human. However, we get to choose which of those to engage with.

    Author and blogger Pam Grout has a brilliant analogy for thoughts: They’re like a line of ants marching across your picnic blanket. You can choose to observe them as they keep on marching straight off the other side of the blanket and disappear, or you can choose to scoop them up and interact with them. Make them your focus. Fuss over them. And they’ll probably bite you too.

    But there’s your power: It’s your choice.

    You decide which thoughts you pay attention to.

    Because thoughts come and go. All the time. And that’s normal.

    If you’re able to observe the fact that you’re overthinking, then you’re already noticing the separation of you and your mind.

    It really is that simple.

    Like anything new, it’s taken time (and practice) for me to allow this understanding to really resonate and to notice the benefits, of which there are many. To name a few:

    • I’m more accepting of what is. I no longer feel the need to intellectualize and/or judge every facet of my life. And with that comes a real sense of ease.
    • I experience far more contentment. A busy mind often ends in a dark place if left untethered. By not engaging in the endless chatter, feelings of contentment have become a familiar friend.
    • I’m more empowered. Knowing that I can choose which thoughts to engage has removed any sense of victimhood I previously felt.

    As with any new habit, persistence is the key.

    What I’ve realized is that I don’t have to stop thinking, I simply need to be selective about whether I believe my thinking. Because most of our thoughts are just stories we make up, often regretting the past or worrying about the future.

    Most aren’t true. At all.

    I used to be a bit of a helicopter parent. I admit it.

    So when my daughter reached the age of legal driving and nightclubbing, my over-thinking mind went into overdrive. She would go out with her friends (as young adults do), and I would have an internal meltdown. Quite literally.

    My mind would imagine every worst-case scenario possible, in great detail.

    Car accidents. Date rape. Abduction. You name it, I imagined it.

    And it would replay over and over and over again in my mind, until I was a knot of nerves and worry. Sleep just wasn’t ever an option.

    I would start texting her from about midnight, just to check she was alive. (I was that bad…)

    When she finally got home in the early hours, I would feel such a flood of relief it was almost overwhelming.

    It was exhausting experiencing such intense emotion from one end of the scale to the other.

    Yet, it was all a result of my thinking. That’s all.

    And after a year of this roller-coaster ride I finally took action. Not with my daughter—with me. Or my thinking, to be more precise.

    This flood of thoughts that invaded my mind each time she ventured out would always be there, but it was my choice whether I took them seriously or not.

    So I started acknowledging their presence when they showed up, then I let them flow through me. I reasoned with myself that her life was hers to live, and that I had no control over her destiny. And that made it easier. Because that’s the truth.

    If I felt that familiar knot of anxiety in my gut, I would remind myself that none of those thoughts were real. I was okay. She was okay.

    And in time, it got easier. I worried less and less. I even managed to sleep while she was out!

    Nowadays, I only really listen to my thinking when it’s telling nice stories. Stories that makes me feel good. The rest of the time I either consciously change my thinking direction toward better feeling thoughts, or I just let my mind waffle on, without paying attention.

    It’s a bit like having the radio on in the background. And when a song starts that I like, I pay attention.

    Yup, I choose when to pay attention.

    No exceptions.

    My thinking doesn’t control me anymore. I control how I engage with it.

    My busy mind is my ally. My friend. My inner play-mate.

    And one of the things that makes me, me.

  • 5 Things to Quit Right Now

    5 Things to Quit Right Now

    5 Things to Quit Right Now

  • Overthinking Is the Biggest Cause of Unhappiness

    Overthinking Is the Biggest Cause of Unhappiness

    Overthinking

  • Overthinking Will Destroy Your Mood

    Overthinking Will Destroy Your Mood

    Overthinking will destroy your mood

  • Overthinking Is the Biggest Cause of Unhappiness

    Overthinking Is the Biggest Cause of Unhappiness

    Overthinking is the biggest cause of unhappiness

  • The Introvert’s Brain: Why They Might “Think Too Much”

    The Introvert’s Brain: Why They Might “Think Too Much”

    Brain

    “Only those who care about you can hear when you are quiet.” ~Unknown

    I find it difficult to be understood. I seem to frequently create complexity out of something that is perhaps very simple and straightforward to others.

    For example, going to a movie. For many people, it would be “choose a movie, choose a time, choose a cinema” and there you go.

    For me, I check movie reviews, all possible timings, in all possible cinemas. For each timing and location, I will consider if the timing allows other things to be done before and after the movie, and whether the location has sufficient food and shopping options. All else being equal, the location with the cheapest parking fees wins.

    Yes, I take a long time to decide on a movie outing, and more on issues with much bigger consequences in life.

    In the recent years, I have had to make some rather big decisions about my life, on career and family. Judging from the process I go through to make a decision on a movie, you can imagine the epic journey I went through for each big decision.

    My brain had a field time linking every single option to different possible outcomes. Even issues that were once unlinked would somehow be connected to one another the more my brain was allowed to think. And after that, my brain took the liberty of developing Plan A, Plan B, and even Plan C for each scenario.

    Naturally, with such a repertoire of scenarios, my brain went round and round as it tried to take care of even the worst-case scenario.

    There is a saying that if you cannot do much about something, there is no point worrying about it. But I always feel that I can do something. I can mitigate the impact of bad outcomes if I take careful calculated actions—that is why I think, I plan, then I do. Only when the worst-case scenario could be taken care of would I be ready.

    To reach that stage, it took months (if not years). If I tried to explain to a select few friends that I trusted, I found myself bringing up the intricacies of each carefully-devised thought, fear, hope, and plan.

    Most of the time, I would elicit a response like “You think too much” or “Don’t be so pessimistic” or “Be more positive.”

    Perhaps the one that I dreaded to hear most was “be happy.” I was trying to be happy—I was taking charge of the difficult issues in my life, but in the process of sharing my elaborate thought process, it seemed to people that I was the one creating unhappiness for myself.

    In the end, I shut up.

    Perhaps it was my fault that I could not articulate my thoughts better. Perhaps I was too long-winded; people generally do not have the patience to listen to the epic journey in my brain. Perhaps they disagreed with some parts of my assumptions, or could not understand the situation sufficiently to appreciate my fears and concerns.

    Whatever the possible reasons, I did not want to be discredited for my thoughts and feelings. The epic journey had been too arduous to be brushed aside with “don’t think so much.”

    In a way, I wish I could stop that intricate elaborate deep-thinking process. I envy those who can just be happy-go-lucky, not think much, just do and deal with whatever consequences may come. However, science has shown that the brain is wired differently for introverts and extroverts.

    German psychologist Hans Eysenck found that introverts have naturally high cortical arousal and may process more information per second. They get overwhelmed and tired quickly in environments with a lot of stimulation, such as a loud restaurant.

    Positron emission tomography (PET) scans showed that introverts had more blood flowing in their frontal lobes and anterior thalamus, regions of the brain that recall events, make plans. and solve problems.

    It looks like I cannot help it, since I am born with this brain.

    With such a brain, all life experiences play a big part to stimulate and shape thoughts. Childhood, adolescent, social interactions, work, family—everything.

    As an introvert thinks, s/he connects all the dots, linking past and present experiences much more than extroverts would.

    Let’s say we have an introvert, born to a loving and nurturing family, who has close-knit friends and relatives and a cooperative work environment. And we also have one who is not. Which one is more likely to develop positive linkages and hopeful thoughts when forming their outlook in life?

    I guess I have come to accept that even good friends may not be able to understand me. Or they might label me as “the one who thinks too much” and has a high dose of pessimism. They may even start to stay away from me, as conventional wisdom advises that one should surround himself with positive and optimistic people.

    But I want to question: Do we just dismiss people because they appear “unhappy people” or “pessimistic people” at a point in time? Are they lesser beings just because they find it difficult to handle life as optimistically as others? Everyone has a story. At any point in life, maybe your story is happier than someone else’s.

    Let me illustrate using examples from some of my favorite animated movies.

    Mr Carl Fredricksen in the movie Up would be dismissed as a grumpy old man who offered no smile or generosity to even a little wilderness explorer. But he was not always unhappy. He happily fell in love and married, but lost the love of his life and his motivation when his wife passed away.

    Elsa the ice queen in the movie Frozen would be dismissed as cold-hearted and aloof, but what would you expect of a young girl who grew up locked up in a room because she nearly killed her baby sister and was deemed dangerous by her parents?

    Marlin the over-anxious father in the movie Finding Nemo was happily married and about to be the father of 400 children. Then a barracuda showed up, killed his wife, and ate all but one of the babies. The one baby that survived was born disabled. After carefully raising Nemo and letting Nemo attend school, the kid was immediately kidnapped by a human. Can you blame Marlin for his anxiety?

    Take heart though, those who truly care will know how to reach out.

    Mr Fredricksen, Elsa, and Marlin could have remained as they were had it not been for Russell (little wilderness explorer), Anna (Elsa’s sister), and Dory (the blue fish memorably voiced by Ellen DeGeneres) respectively.

    They cared enough to stick by their miserable companion/sister, to encourage and give support. They offered a different perspective to gently draw their friend out of their fears and doubts.

    I had always believed that only another introvert can understand and care for another introvert. But I am wrong. Russell, Anna, and Dory were extroverts and optimists.

    Although they might not have fully comprehended their introverted friends, they cared enough to never stop reaching out. I realize these are cartoon characters, but I’ve known Russells, Annas, and Dorys in my life and I appreciate and cherish them.  There are not many, but a few truly kind and caring friends are good enough for introverts.

    If you have had similar experiences as me, we should stop beating ourselves up for “thinking too much.” Whether we are blessed or cursed by our deep-thinking brain, we have to live with it and harness its strength.

    We are naturally empathetic and will be the ones that best offer comfort and support when others are down. What we say or do, we have thought through carefully. We are trusted for our steadiness and thoroughness, and ability to understand complexities.

    Yes, we can become more self-aware and accept that we have the natural tendency to go very deep. With that awareness, we can develop control over our brains to push ourselves to the surface once we have gone a little too deep.

    We can make miracles if we adapt these abilities to a world where extroverts are in the majority.

    In fact, they say the best teams comprise of an introvert and an extrovert (e.g. Apple’s Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, and Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg) due to complementary strengths and weaknesses. And let’s not forget Albert Einstein, Mahatma Gandhi, Bill Gates, Abraham Lincoln and Warren Buffett who are famous for their powerful introverted brains.

    On my part, I have learned to control how much I share, to control my tendency to articulate the epic journey of my decision-making process, lest I attract a “you think too much” remark.

    I have learned to be comfortable with the brain processes I have, and not feel the need to always justify my thoughts and decisions. Less is more, for people who cannot, will not try to understand us. And if anyone cares enough, they can hear even if we are quiet.

    Brain image via Shutterstock