Overthinking: The Prison I Built for Myself

I didn’t realize I was building a prison until the walls were too high to climb. Brick by brick, thought by thought, I locked myself inside my own mind. Overthinking wasn’t just a bad habit; it became the lens through which I saw every part of my life.

It started innocently. I believed thinking things through meant I was being responsible. I thought planning for every possible outcome was the smart way to live. I didn’t understand there was a difference between being prepared and being paralyzed.

At first, overthinking helped me feel in control. Before sending a text, I’d read it five times to make sure it couldn’t be misunderstood. When making decisions, I’d list out every possible consequence, even if it was unlikely or absurd.

But soon, the constant analysis turned toxic.

I couldn’t sleep because my brain was replaying every conversation I’d ever had. I’d lie awake at 3 a.m. dissecting whether I had offended someone five years ago. I’d scroll through messages searching for hidden meanings. I would ask myself the same questions over and over:

“What if I fail?”
“What if I regret this?”
“What if everyone leaves?”

My body felt it too. My shoulders were always tense, my jaw clenched. My heart raced when there was no real danger. It was like my mind believed disaster was always seconds away.

I didn’t tell anyone how bad it was. I thought everyone overthought like this. That it was normal to feel exhausted by your own thoughts.

The worst part was the shame. I judged myself for not being able to “just relax.” Friends would say, “Stop thinking so much,” but they didn’t understand. It wasn’t something I could switch off.

Eventually, overthinking started to cost me opportunities. I’d take so long deciding whether to say yes to a project that the chance would disappear. I’d hesitate so long to share my writing that I never published anything. My relationships suffered too. I needed constant reassurance, and even when I got it, I doubted it.

I knew I couldn’t keep living like this.

The turning point came one evening when I had a panic attack alone in my apartment. My thoughts were racing so fast I felt like I was drowning. My vision blurred, my chest tightened, and I thought, “This is it. My brain is going to destroy me.”

That night, I promised myself something had to change.

I started therapy. I was terrified to open up, but I knew I couldn’t fight this battle alone. My therapist helped me see that overthinking wasn’t about being careful. It was about fear—fear of making mistakes, fear of being judged, fear of losing control.

She taught me that no amount of thinking could guarantee certainty. Life doesn’t come with guarantees.

Slowly, I learned tools to quiet my mind.

I began journaling, dumping all my thoughts onto paper instead of letting them spin endlessly in my head. I practiced mindfulness, sitting with my thoughts without judging them or trying to solve them.

I learned to tell myself: “Maybe I don’t have to figure this out right now.”

It wasn’t an instant fix. Some days I still fall back into the spiral. But now I recognize it faster. I remind myself that thoughts are just thoughts—they don’t have to control me.

Over time, my world expanded. I started saying yes to things without overanalyzing every possible outcome. I published my first article. I took a trip without planning every hour. I let myself feel proud instead of picking apart everything I could have done better.

If you’re reading this and you feel trapped in your own mind, please know you’re not alone. Overthinking feels safe because it tricks you into believing you’re in control. But it’s not safety—it’s a cage.

Freedom doesn’t come from finding perfect answers to every question. It comes from trusting that even if things go wrong, you’ll survive.

You are more resilient than your fears. You deserve peace.

And you can rebuild your life outside the prison you built. One thought at a time.