“You think too much.”
I rarely feel this way personally, but I have been told by others. When I do think it actually applies, it’s usually more a matter of where I’m letting my mind go, rather than the fact that I’m thinking, that’s really the concern. It’s not that I think too much, it’s that I’m thinking too much about the wrong things. The worries. The past embarrassments. The “things I cannot change”. The things that have absolutely no bearing on real life but that my mind obsesses on. The discussions I’d like to have, but no one else is as interested in what I’m thinking as I am.
The worries, well, if I can do something about them then it’s not such a horrible matter. Unless I’m trying to sleep. That’s when concerns for everyday life pop up. I learned at a young age to get up and write things down. The act of putting it on paper took whatever it was out of my brain and let me sleep.
The past embarrassments are numerous. Trying to lead while dancing with a friend at a wedding . The horrible thing I said about someone in high school because I thought I was funny. The many times I just could not mind my own business and got slapped down for butting in. All these things that are in the past and are, most likely, forgotten by everyone but me.
And then there’s the out of the blue thoughts that I think really make me me. I express them and people think I’m a little strange, but I’m like a venting volcano. What I say is like that little bit of smoke and ash that lets you know something is happening deep down. The deep down stuff is what no one wants to see, not from close up, anyway. But that’s the fun stuff, too, geophysically speaking. That’s what reshapes the landscape, redirects air traffic, cools the world a few degrees. It’s the deep thoughts, the late-night discussions, that reveal true character.
If that’s the case, then it’s impossible for it to be “too much,” isn’t it? I sure hope so, because it’s not something I can really control.