Overthinking Isn’t a Flaw: It’s a Telegram from the Psyche

We treat overthinking like it’s a raccoon in the attic.
Trap it, shoo it out, patch the hole, pretend it was never there.

But here’s the thing, your overthinking isn’t broken.
It’s the part of you still functioning perfectly in a world that keeps gaslighting itself.

Your brain has noticed something’s… off.
The way the “rules” don’t match the reality.
The way the social contracts feel like they were drafted by a committee of exhausted raccoons at 3 a.m.
The way the life you were told to want feels like wearing shoes that don’t quite fit. You can walk in them, sure, but your toes are plotting a coup.

Overthinking is your unconscious tapping you on the shoulder like,
“Uh, hi. The map they gave you? It’s upside down. Also, there’s a dragon they forgot to mention.”

It’s not a glitch. It’s your internal archetypal cartographer drawing in the missing mountain ranges, the unspeakable valleys, the parts no one wanted you to see because if you saw them, you might start asking inconvenient questions.

And yes, sometimes it’s exhausting.
Sometimes your mind is doing Cirque du Soleil at 2 a.m. with a spotlight on all your unfinished business.
But that’s not pathology. That’s a signal.

In Jungian terms, it’s a summons from the Self, the deep organizing principle of who you really are, telling you the structures you live inside are not in alignment with the truth you carry in your bones.

Silencing overthinking without listening is like unplugging the fire alarm because the beeping is “annoying.” Sure, now you can watch Netflix in peace… while the kitchen burns down.

So instead of trying to cure it, try this:
Lean in. Follow the spiral.
Track where the tension in your body hums when you think the thought.
Notice which memories hitch a ride.
Ask: What is this trying to protect me from? Or guide me toward?

Overthinking is just the psyche’s way of refusing to go numb.
It’s a telegram from the unconscious stamped:
“Dear You, the life they sold you isn’t the life you came here to live. Let’s discuss.”

And maybe that discussion begins right now.
Maybe the next time your mind starts to loop, you sit with it like an old friend who speaks in riddles.
You listen, without rushing to solve.
You follow the breadcrumbs, knowing they are taking you somewhere important.

Because overthinking is not a flaw to be fixed.
It is an opening, a threshold, an invitation to walk more deeply into the truth of your own life.
And if you are lucky, by the time you step through, the raccoon will have moved out of the attic and set up camp somewhere more scenic… like your neighbor’s shed.