From grade school, to junior high, to high school, to adult life, "overthinking it" has been my mantra through sighs time and again. When life is great, overthinking takes a back seat. However, that old, familiar feeling eventually creeps back into my mind when I feel that I'm falling short in some aspect or another.
A solstice comes and goes without so much as a prayer, let alone a ritual - "Am I a good Pagan?"
A new class begins with an overwhelming misunderstanding of the material - "Is this really what I want to do with my life?"
A new man becomes an important part of your world, then begins to disappear - "Did I come on too strong?"
In the end, the overthinking leads to deep self-doubt, regardless of the situation.
Why do I feel "less than" when I think about situations more than what society seems to put out as "normal?" What is the norm for thinking? Is there a minimum and a maximum level of thought that is expected in defined moments? Who decides what is too much? In bullying and abuse cases, the victims are the people who decide what is "too much." So, if Jane is feeling put out with a problem she may have, does she define the "right" level of processing? But what if Jane's issue is all in her head? She can talk about it with someone to decide if that is the case. And, if Jane is overthinking an issue with John that she's made up on her own, does John define the level of thought as "too much?" Does that make him the victim, and so, the deciding party? And, what if Jane and John have an issue, agreed upon by both at the beginning of said conversation? Does the most offended person have the right to blow up?
No situation gives any party the right to blow up. That implies total loss of control, and will only end in further conflict; no resolution there.
But, how does one explain thoughts that have inflated beyond the situation so that the conflict (or imagined conflict) can be resolved? I know I'm not the only one here who has had inner conflict, and wanted so badly to discuss it with the other party, but terrified to do so. "What if he shuts down? What if he's not interested in making it work? What if I scare him away with my neediness?" That happened. And the conversation happened. And he played it off. And I stopped texting him first to see if I'd ever hear from him again.
And I never did.
Some of you who have been readers for a while may recall that whole mess.
So, you'll excuse me if my trust issues are coming back around. Previous boyfriends whittled my trust when they cheated on me (which pretty near all of my boyfriends have done.) Then, that guy introduced a whole new kind of mistrust - mistrust in myself. I let myself revolve my life around him. I became *that* girl. You all know her (some of you may be her, too) - she's independent, but the moment a new, amazing guy waltzes into her life, hobbies, aspirations, free time = gone. He may not even be asking it of her, but she gives it up freely. Whether or not it's attractive to the opposite sex (or same sex, no judgement here), is irrelevant, I feel. Maybe I feel it's irrelevant because I don't want it to be relevant, because I am that girl. Who knows? In any case, I want to be loved and wanted as much as I love and want someone else. I don't think that's asking too much.
Then again, maybe I'm overthinking it?