An email notification from my son’s teacher flashes on my phone screen. The subject line is simple — “Quick question about your son.” Before I even have a chance to click read, my brain is off to the races, constructing a dozen different catastrophes. In the space of 30 seconds, I went from a functioning adult to a mother on trial.
The email reads, “Hi! Your son was telling me how much he loves building things. I was wondering if you think he’d be interested in joining the after-school LEGO robotics club?” The relief is overwhelming, but right behind it is the profound exhaustion, anger, and self-disgust — it was all for nothing.
Does this sound familiar? If so, you’ll have your own triggers, but as a fellow overthinker, there’s a good chance they’ll be similar to mine. Here are just 8 of them, along with some tips I use to cope.
1. Making even small decisions.
Have you seen the cereal aisle lately? For someone who’s neurodivergent, it’s not a healthy place to be, especially with two kids in tow. My daughter is health-conscious and wants a high-fiber brand, but my son lives on a sugar high and wants brightly colored mouthfuls. I don’t know which to choose that will meet their nutritional needs and not “bowl” over the budget.
Within seconds, I am exhausted by the choice and feel unable to pick even one box. If you’re wondering what an overthinking spiral looks like, this is it. At the moment, I do my grocery shopping online, which means my husband help when my mind starts spinning.
2. Worrying about what other people think of you.
Overthinking on its own is annoying, but one of the worst parts of it is the negativity it brings. Those ever-popular and escalating negative thoughts really bring me down and stop me in my tracks. For example, instead of emailing my son’s teacher, I spent three days wondering about what to write and why I hadn’t just replied immediately. I worry that the teacher must think I’m a fruit loop, or that I don’t care. A quick, “Sure, he’d love that. Please send me more details,” response would have been much easier.
To counteract this, I’ve begun keeping a thought diary. It’s not always successful, as I tend to think about why I’m not writing in it or berate myself for needing something like this in the first place. But when I do keep track of my spiraling thoughts, I am often amazed by how negatively I speak to myself. I pick one challenging thought daily and replace it with a positive and compassionate response. For instance, changing “They think I’m a bad mother” to “I love my kids, and I do my best.”
3. The desire for perfectionism.
I have a host of challenges that should keep me busy enough, but on top of those, I want to do everything flawlessly. When I send an email with a small typo or even slightly overcook the rice, it feels like I am doomed and useless. Sound familiar?
My brain perceives it as irrefutable proof that I am not good enough, and my ADHD makes it even worse, as I am forgetful, except when it comes to my perceived flaws. They pop in to say “hi” at 3 a.m., setting off an endless cycle of overthinking that leaves me even more tired and likely to burn the scrambled eggs at breakfast.
It’s not so much that wanting to be perfect is the problem. Instead, my perception of my failure is what drags me out of sleep each morning and makes me hesitate before starting anything. I feel incapable, and like I can’t change anything or make a better effort. Sometimes, affirmations help. I have a sticky note on my nightstand that says, “I do my best, and I am enough.”
4. Societal pressure to “succeed.”
Do you have a picture-perfect neighbor like mine? She’s on Instagram and shares idyllic family photos on her Facebook page. Her house is spotless, and it appears as though her kids came out of the womb airbrushed. The pressure of living next to a social media goddess is agonizing when you’re an awkward, messy, disorganized, and excitable mother of two kids who don’t pick up their toys because their ADHD mommy doesn’t clean away her mess, either.
Like many people who experience social anxiety and struggle with daily interactions, I tend to run inside if I see her watering her Elle-worthy rose bushes. The panic attack puts my mind on the hamster wheel of self-doubt, and my therapist has their work cut out to help me relax and think logically.
Science says I should stay off social media platforms to limit comparisons and enjoy my life more, so I try to beat the cortisol-triggered cyclical thinking by limiting screen time, especially at night.
5. “Quiet” moments.
Even small thoughts can run the Boston Marathon in my head, particularly if I’m not focused on an external task. “Did I lock the back door?” Then the spiral begins. And as it loves company, it starts a few spinoffs, like “I took the trash out and locked it, right?” “Oops, did I throw out that school letter with the trash?”
My mind’s default mode network — or DMN, as the neuroscience folks call it — is the fitness instructor from hell, making me run laps. The DMN is the part of your brain that activates when you’re not actively focused on the outside world. For example, when you’re daydreaming, remembering the past, or imagining the future — that’s your DMN hard at work.
For most people, it’s helpful. It lets them process memories, plan ahead, and reflect on themselves. But for overthinkers, particularly those with ADHD, it’s like having a radio station that only plays catastrophe hits, and someone superglued the volume knob to maximum. Luckily, doing a few finger-breathing exercises releases endorphins, helping me feel better and relax more.
6. Communication within relationships.
I grew up in a complex home, and at an early age, I had to step up and be the parent. My first marriage was essentially me looking for stability and finding chaos instead. Obviously, that didn’t end well. Now, when my current husband responds with a one-word text — “OK” — my hypervigilant brain hits Mach 2. I end up spending an hour analyzing the text and wondering what he meant instead of just picking up the phone to call him for more information.
When he comes home an hour later, I burst into tears. I’m relieved, angry, and utterly ashamed of myself. Since I am always on high alert, I overthink, overprepare, and quickly spin out. I see threats where there are none. My thoughts and feelings about something get blown out of proportion, leading to intrusive or threat-based thinking, which quickly escalates.
To combat this, I’ve learned to notice when rumination begins, and I quickly write down two things I can do. I force myself to take positive action without wasting more energy.
7. The fear of rejection.
Any ADHDers out there will likely know rejection-sensitive dysphoria — thinking others disapprove of you — quite intimately and painfully. It hits me whenever I have to submit a new piece of writing to editors or publishers. Even though I have loads of experience and have earned my correction marker stripes, I still feel like I’m not good enough.
If I don’t hear back, I fear they hate the article and think I’m a fraud. It gets so bad that I can’t focus enough to write the next piece, and each line fights for mental space and questions my abilities. I should be confident, but I still feel my insecurity daily. After years of therapy, I can tell you where my quest for external validation began, and why it drives my procrastination train.
To manage it, I practice self-acceptance daily through a few mindful meditations and loads of self-love activities. Ones like grounding, journaling, and deep breathing exercises build my emotional resilience, quiet my mind, and make space for healing.
8. Focusing on problems rather than solutions.
Are you a problem-based thinker? I am. Recently, my son came home with a failed math test. He’s still in grade school, and it was his first failed test, but my brain quickly spiraled into how this will affect his future. What if he wants to become a doctor, but he’s failed math and can’t go to Harvard?
My friend laughed when I shared this during girls’ night. She asked, “Why didn’t you just speak to the teacher first or enquire about a tutor?” See, easy! Problem solved. But my gray matter zooms in on the problem, forgetting that a solution exists. The uncertainty adds up to create worry, which makes more uncertainty, raising my anxiety levels.
My husband came up with a plan that works, sometimes. When a problem appears, I stop, take three breaths, and write it down on paper. I see the problem externally, as it’s no longer only in my mind. This helps me think about a possible solution, which I can implement without further rumination. The pause and deep breathing help me reset, and they could help you, too.
Final thoughts…
I still get that jolt of anxiety when I see an email from my son’s teacher. My brain is wired for that initial panic, a remnant of past traumas and the daily gymnastics of living with ADHD. The difference now is that I don’t have to let it become a 30-second horror movie.
By recognizing a potential spiral, I can take a breath and tell myself, “This is a pattern. You are catastrophizing. You don’t have enough information to feel this worried.” Success lies in recognizing the story my mind is trying to write and choosing, with intention, to pen a different ending — one where I open the email not with terror, but with simple, uncomplicated curiosity.
