I’ve rewritten this sentence so many times because of this, but, well, I’ll just come out and say it: I’m an over thinker. Not just an over-thinker, but I am the champion, the queen, the gold medalist for the last three Olympics of overthinking. I like to think of the positive qualities that come with being so thoughtful: careful consideration, fewer mistakes, more or less correct choices. This works well with my messy perfectionist attitude, it provides a way for me to figure out how I organize my calendar or my desk or how I sort my laundry and why I have to make sure all of my socks always have a matching pair or they drive me a little bit insane.
Back to overthinking— there are negative aspects to this part of my personality. Overthinking causes me a lot of anxiety and suffering because I worry so much about the very worst possible outcomes. And there are so many outcomes.
I think I tend to overthink because I have so much going on. I don’t like saying I’m an overachiever because there’s such a negative connotation with being involved in things.
I like to do things, in fact, I like to do a lot of things.
I like cats so I volunteer at a cat shelter.
I like the genuine smiles and gratitude so I volunteer at a soup kitchen.
I like making people feel their feelings so I majored in theater.
I like art and design so I became a lighting designer.
I like having a support system and being inspired by strong women, so I joined a sorority.
I like bringing people together, so I became a campus manager for an apparel company.
I like giving people equal opportunity, so I joined the executive board of a technical theater club.
I like living in Chicago, so I work three jobs.
I like how people communicate, so I picked up a communication studies minor.
These things that I like eat up my time, my energy, and my mental and physical being. I don’t have just 9 to 5 days, I have 7 to 11 days— and those are the good ones. I remember my aunt (those of which are some of my biggest supporters, hi auntie Donna and aunt Lisa!), asking me, “When do you sleep?” and I quickly answered, “Usually between 1 AM and 6 AM.” as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And it is— this is my normal. My normal is made up of crazy long hours slaving away for the things I love, by choice.
My passions are doing what passions do, they are taking over my life in the best and worst possible ways. It’s starting to transition from fall to winter, and much sooner than I had expected. Seasonal depression is real and following your dreams takes a lot more than what we make them out to be like. While classes are done, I’ve been working the last couple of weeks, and the days haven’t really felt like the Christmas magic that equals lack of responsibilities— because I do still have things to take care of.
This is where I get ahead of myself; have you ever felt like you’ve thought so far into the future in one moment, but almost exactly in sync, time has frozen and nothing’s changed in real life? Maybe that’s just me zoning out. I overthink about the big picture constantly, which makes me over work, which makes me into some kind of over achiever title that I’m not proud to tote around. What is my end goal? What do I want most, more than anything?
I struggle with taking on a lot of activities to quiet the wheels turning in my head, even during my winter break. I dropped my intercession classes, which ultimately made me feel like a failure at first, but I needed to take back some of my time. Despite this, I fully immersed myself into work, all three jobs, actually— but I’m looking forward to the future, even so.
My end goal? Make the world a better place.
What do I want? To make a difference in people’s lives.
Sometimes my overthinking and overworking is perceived as an achievement, that being busy suddenly is the end goal. While I haven’t found the cure to the common cold of created world peace, I am trying my best to reach my end goal. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop thinking things over, but I can feel things starting to slow down, and that is okay for now. I think.
