Overthinking, commonly known as the art of creating problems that does not exist.
But art is beautiful, overthinking is not.
Overthinking is the dangerous side effect of being human. Since life doesn’t come with a warning label, there are some side effects that we have to discover for ourselves and go through on our own. Many of the side effects of life, such as stress, sadness and happiness can often be shared with your loved ones and be assured or celebrated.
However, overthinking is the one side effect you can never share. Your brain conjure up the monstrous faces of your insecurities, one after another, until your own image drowns among them and the line between reality and imagination is blurred. These monsters cannot be shown, for we know the only comfort we’ll get is “Don’t think too much”. But do you know that behind every “You’re right, I shouldn’t” is a “you think I can control it?”. These ugly faces, just fragments of our imaginations, yet far too real, become a formidable force pushing us to the verge of self-hatred and for some people even self harm.
Have you ever thought, what could possibly push a person to suicide? The questions often associated with suicide are, How can someone hate the world so much to choose to leave, or Do you agree with suicide. Ever wondered, will your opinion on suicide ever matter? Nobody asks permission before committing it, yet everybody play a role in someone’s suicide.
People don’t choose to leave the world because they hate it, they choose to leave because they think the world hates them, that they are unneeded, unloved and will not be missed. We often say that the true victims of suicide are those left behind. Yet we, as those left behind, never considered how we treated the departed and how we could’ve played a role in their departure. How we made them feel small, feel unneeded, feel unloved.
The small acts of negligence and ignorance and our judgments, builds a little hut and traps the victims inside. Most are able to overcome it, their confidence being the key that unlocks the door, freeing them. But to some, we are cruel enough to do it over and over again, making it worse each time. And with each encounter, the small little hut built on the foundation of insecurities is expanded by overthinking. Each layer added so precising to hit the sore spot until it comes such an impressively complex work of architecture where everyone is given an ugly face.
Don’t think that they don’t try to get out of it. They do, they take the stairs, run up and down, they try every exit. Yet each door leads to another floor of nightmare and the stairs either brings you to the dark claws of depression or the high roof.
Some are left crawled up in the deep bowels of their own minds, while others stand at the edge of the roof, one step to freedom. All the while, overthinking encourages them, tell them that they are unloved and unwanted and with proof too, all the hideous acts we’ve committed against them, enlarged and stretched to the extremes. So they take the step to free themselves.
What do we do then? Cry, blame them, blame ourselves, grieve. What else can we possibly do? We could’ve been nice. We could’ve been respectful. We could’ve made our kind words the hands that brings them down the ledge not push them off it.
So my question is, are we truly the victims or are we playing the victims?
The image is an artwork by Emily Thomas called Mental Protuberance, the perfect imagery for Overthinking.