Inside the mind of an overthinker

As we waited for our pizza to arrive, my best friend—self-proclaimed palm-reading expert—studied my hand like it held the secrets of the universe. There's a phase between high school and college where everyone dabbles in palmistry, picking up bits and pieces from magazines and each other, using it as an excuse to impress or just pass the time.

“You have so many lines on your palm,” she observed, flipping her palm open for comparison. “Look at mine—it’s practically empty.” 👋

I braced myself. “Yeah, yeah… go ahead, say I’m complicated.”

She said the opposite, “Nop! You, my friend, are a simple person.”

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that—until I did.

Just hours earlier, my teacher had glanced at my assignment, sighed, and said, “You overthink.” I had written a 50-line algorithm for a problem that could have been solved in seven. It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of overthinking. My parents would say the same during school days: “Don’t overthink—just say the first answer that comes to mind.” Whether it was math, writing an essay, or responding to a teacher, the message was clear: I was thinking too much.

But I wasn’t trying to be difficult. Or to appear smart. If anything, I was trying not to be stupid. Overthinking was—and still is—my way to simplify the complex.

My first pass at anything always feels complicated, like a tangled mess of wires. I need to break it down. Then, break it down again. And then one more time, until it becomes what others call “simple.” Maybe this happens to everyone, but they streamline their thoughts much faster than I do.

Or maybe overthinkers are just wired differently.

The workplace is no safe space for overthinkers

Overthinking isn’t exactly celebrated in the workplace.

In my previous life as a technical writer, I had to submit a specification document for every manual I wrote (yes, a doc for a doc). All my colleagues treated it like a checklist—just throw in the basics and move on. Need to fill in competitor info? Just name a few.

I, on the other hand, went deep. I analyzed all the major competitors, their documentation, and what they did well that we could learn from. My boss was impressed. She even showed it to her boss. But ultimately, the feedback was: This isn’t needed. What we have is good enough.

It was a bummer. Not because my work wasn’t valued, but because it confirmed what I had always suspected—most places don’t reward deep thinking. They reward speed. Efficiency. Just enough, not too much.

The hidden advantages of overthinking

But let’s not write off overthinking entirely. There are perks.

Overthinkers are not just overthinkers. They are also over observers.

We observe more because to analyze more, we need more data. More variables. We tend to notice the subtle things that others overlook. We read between the lines—not just in conversations, but in body language, subtext, and social dynamics. Sometimes, we can even predict what someone will say before they say it.

Another upside is that our subconscious is always working in the background on that unfinished task. When I sit on an idea for days, the final version is often much richer than if I had rushed to get it out. The dots connect in ways they wouldn’t have otherwise.

So yes, there are advantages to living in the “over” zone. But only if we can control it.

The real problem: the world doesn’t want you to think too much

The real struggle isn’t just that overthinking can be exhausting—it’s that society actively discourages it.

People don’t want to hear ideas that take time to unpack. They don’t want to read something that doesn’t “click” instantly. Who wants to learn about the nuances of how the mind works when they could be watching a funny cat video?

Students would rather memorize a formula than understand its derivation—because exams test how fast they can finish, not how deeply they grasp the concept. Social media rewards posts that are immediately digestible. If something makes you pause and think, you’re more likely to scroll past it. I just Googled “overthinking,” and every result was about how to stop it.

Society doesn’t see overthinking as a skill—it sees it as a problem to be fixed.

And that makes me wonder: What happens to overthinkers in a world that values thinking less and less? Will we adapt, or will we become obsolete?

The solution: knowing when to overthink

Maybe the answer isn’t to stop overthinking, but to choose when to do it.

James Clear offers a brilliant perspective with hats, haircuts, and tattoos.

Most decisions are like hats. Try one, and if it doesn’t fit, put it back and try another. The cost of a mistake is low, so move quickly and experiment.

Some decisions are like haircuts. You can fix a bad one, but it won’t be immediate, and you might feel foolish for a while. Still, don’t fear a bad haircut—trying something new is usually worth the risk.

A few decisions are like tattoos. They’re permanent. Once you make them, you live with them. These are the ones that deserve deep thought and careful deliberation.

Maybe that’s the key. Not every problem needs a 50-line solution. Some scenarios are just hats.

But for the tattoo-level decisions—the ones that define who we are, where we go, and what we build—overthinking is a strength. Let’s cherish it.