Overthinkers Anonymous

Interior. Church hall. All floorboards and folding chairs. There’s a table to the side with a coffee percolator and some cookies. The room is populated by an assortment of men and women. They are seated and, mostly, look around with blank faces, as if they are trying not to think too hard. Some make awkward small talk that never seems to quite go beyond the murmur of their pleasantries.

A door opens.

A man in a jacket, suspenders and baseball cap enters the hall. He is slightly plump, slightly stately, and seemingly in charge. He waddles, in a strangely authoritative way, to an empty chair and pointedly waits for everyone already seated to settle. He smiles gently and pulls off his jacket, unveiling a name badge that reads: Mike. He stands up, just inside the circle.

Mike:

Hello, hello, and welcome to Overthinkers Anonymous.  I’m Mike and I’ve been clean now for 10 years.

(polite applause)

But, of course, it’s not only about me. It’s about all of us here tonight who care enough not care too deeply; who know the addictive pains of Overthinking; and who just want some change. I know—because I’ve been there—how badly you all just want to follow a single strand of thought to its clear conclusion and not get sidetracked by your unwieldy associative logic. And, together, with some straightforward assistance and basic discipline, I believe all of us here tonight are capable of eventually arriving at a simple means to fight back against our Overthinking.

It’s not an easy journey. There are many temptations and emotions you will have to fight. But we’ll always be here. Ready to help you realize that that thinking is just plain unnecessary. That you can be bigger by being smaller than your mind.

Anyway, its just great to see some familiar faces here tonight. As I said, we’re all on this journey together, and we just gotta have trust that each day we can think about this a little less and be together a little more. Every day you come along, is a day in which you face down your addiction, and say: ‘enough.’

(gesturing magnanimously) 

Of course, its always encouraging to see the new faces as well. I know how hard it is to face up to something as convoluted as Overthinking. And how the thinking itself tries its best to sidetrack you: convince you that it is necessary. Well, I can say, it’s not. It’s harmful and, ultimately, exhausting.

(sitting down)

Would one of you new folk like to begin then?

There is some shuffling and gazing about, accompanied by a sense of expectancy. No one really wants to make the first move.

A blonde man, big, in his mid-twenties, raises his arm. It’s obviously a difficult maneuver. Mike nods at him. He stands up.

Dave:

Hi. My name is Dave.

(a chorus of ‘hi Dave’ from the seated addicts)

And I’ve been addicted to Overthinking since, well, I dunno. Maybe, like when I was a kid. I just remember watching TV sometimes and I’d think about what it meant for ages. Whatever was on, too; whether it was Captain Planet or Wheel of Fortune. I’d spend afternoons just thinking about what species of man or robot or spirit the Captain was; try to figure out the value of fire over earth; and what the hell heart did. I’d waste hours devising tactics for Wheel of Fortune, particularly if I, you know, hypothetically, got to the last round. I was an assortment of consonants and vowels thinking up potential movie titles.

(knowing nods from the group of people)

Mike:

Admission is the first step, Dave. Well done.

(gentle applause)

Dave:

Yeah, I know. I’m trying real hard to face up to it. Just it, and me, nothing peripheral; nothing which will make me Overthink my Overthinking.

Mike:

It’s hard.

Dave:

Almost impossible. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to drive straight on a winding road. But I’ve been working at it the last few days and I believe I can say that I think I’ve been clean now for at least 12 hours.

(cheers from the crowd: ‘you go’ and ‘good onya’ sort of stuff)

Thanks. The problem, I guess, is that I only ‘think’ I’ve been clean. I’ve been trying not to think about that too much. I wish I could ‘know’ and not just ‘think’ something. Maybe, it’s part of the process.

Mike:

A little. Certainty and direction is the challenge with Overthinking.

(sage nods from a few in the crowd, even as they try not to look too ‘sage,’ as if they have thought about this at great length)

Tell us more about your journey, Dave. Perhaps, in recounting what brought you to the problem of Overthinking—its challenge and addiction—we can help you think less.

Dave:

(contemplative silence, trying not to Overthink)

It’s an amazing thing. Overthinking, that is. Like wandering this never-ending trail to some unexpected insight; some random connection; some beautiful accident of thought. I used to indulge in it. Bathe in it. It was my job. I was a PhD student in English lit, you see. I had to Overthink, otherwise I wasn’t really, you know, working. It was this perfect sensation of connectivity.

Sometimes, in the midst of Overthinking, I’d feel so fucking smart, like I was possessed of something the rest of the world couldn’t possibly comprehend because it was my own stream-of-thought that led me to it: no one else’s. It was empowering. I could see things in the world—connections and shit—that were absolutely beyond most people. I embraced it fully. I practiced it freely. I Overthought whatever I thought about. And then? I'd think about it some more.

It felt right.

(people in the crowd nod in retrospective agreement)

Mike:

It’s not all wonder, though. Is it?

Dave:

No. Not at all. Especially when you put emotion in the mix. Suddenly, you’re not chasing abstract concepts, notions of politics or interpretation, even random notations on reality, but you follow the path of your own thinking back to you. You Overthink yourself and everything to do with you. Suddenly, what had been clear, becomes this muddy thing, where you forget where you start and your emotions begin. And no matter how often you back yourself out of the mix, you end up Overthinking this evacuation.

I Overthink my Overthinking. And it is addictive, because I always think I’ll win: that the outcome I want will materialize in the process; that Overthinking will lead to its own completion of thought. But Overthinking has its own way of ensuring there can never be any such completion. It loops back in on itself, so that what had been decided—what had been thought—finds itself suspect to more Overthinking.

I need it to outthink my Overthinking, and this merely fuels my Overthinking.

(the room is quiet: they’ve all been there)

Mike:

You don’t though. You needn’t think so hard. The mind can be simple. You can be simple.

Dave:

But how?

Mike:

Ignore the tangents. Think that you think that what you think is enough. Force the mind into compromise. Treat to its thought morsels, but give it nothing else. Overthinking can be corrected, if perhaps never entirely eliminated. It is an addiction that can, ultimately, be ignored. It may always be present—a temptation to drag you away from clarity—but the pay-off of not thinking, of being less critical, of letting it go, is a feeling that is worth the lack of thoughtful effort.

Dave:

(silence)

What if I can’t ever be sure? What if I only think that I am clean of my Overthinking? That this thought is only another in the continuities of my Overthinking?

Mike:

Only thinking, is better than Overthinking. I think you’re on your way. 

Everyone, send him your easy support. Just a clap. Let's avoid the complexity of words for now.

(polite applause. Dave sits back down. Mike looks around)

Anyone else?