I’ve still got trauma trapped in my bones
The experience of life lived in my head
Listening, never speaking back
The fear of talking back
Like oh, you’re grown now!
Raised voices forcing me to cocoon
So when you raise your voice I pause
Breath out heavy allowing the trauma to escape
So I don’t become a van goh painting dripping pigment all over the floor
Anxious about the day, I need to tote
Will it go according to script
Or will the plot twist my heart
Save me from the anxiety soaked deep in depression
Anxious to know the plan
To make the plan
To not stroll in limbo
Anxious to dream dreams that change the world,
Anxious to wake put dreams on hold, work on survival
Anxious to save the world, to be the saviour
Anxious that all these thoughts happen before lunch
Often overthinking is a habit learned as a child, replaying scary experiences and thinking of all the ways they could have gone.
Sometimes it’s more relational over thinking, it depends on the person. Developing this nasty habit as a way to create a false illusion of control. Because I’ve been hurt the worst, by things I could never have seen on the horizon. If I can overthink, I can feign illusion of control over the situation and still not know it will probably crush and still not be ready with some kind of response.
I over think because I want to feel some type of control
That’s why it’s no smoking till I need to feel safe, no booze till I need to feel brave
Drown out the other voices, keep them distracted, move on with my day
I could overthink a meal
Just so I don’t miss
Average with norms
Could do almost anything
Master of none just wandering
Changing with all situations
Holding nothing too closely
Nothing that can hurt
Nothing that can get to me
Because it got to me
Nothing again
Holding emergency board meetings
Setting new policies
All because you left
Overthinking because what I craved most was you,
I over thought you were on your way back, I over thought when life didn’t make sense and I wanted you to be the saviour. I couldn’t stop thinking when it stopped being possible.
Like what if and then in reality I’d be stuck because I didn’t even know where to begin. But what if, I was a spy or I accidentally bump into you
But it’s not possible
So it reared it’s ugly head, what once gave me hope now filled me with dread. That’s why I hate phone calls, I see your name and my mind thinks, we ain’t spoke in a while.
Do I want to answer this call?
What could possibly have happened?
Do I have the mental strength?
So I hit please text, very formally I can’t answer the call.
It’s why I attach to balance, the false sense that somehow the ideal is worth it’s trim.
Nothing is ideal, roll with the waves.
But not when the thought is searching for balance.
Overthinking believes balance is the ultimate master,
A place where I play dress up and pretend to be commander in chief
Perhaps that’s why I’m so tired!
Overthinking! The only ceiling I feel safe under, where the spaces are littered with all my colourful thoughts.
I’m grateful to be alive, I ain’t really happy though
Saviours guilt has me feeling defensive,
Like maybe if I tried this,
Or did that things would be different
Another illusion for control
Maybe I miss you
And overthinking is the only way I know how to keep you alive
Forever lost in my memories
Damn. What a day!
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