Tag: love life (Page 1 of 11)

So, you finally get the thing you asked for…

The job.
The relationship.
The move.
The baby.
The opportunity.

The version of life you once laid in bed praying for, aching for, fighting for.

And suddenly… you notice something unexpected.

Maybe you’re not as happy as you thought you’d be.
Or you feel oddly anxious, unsettled, heavy.
Like something isn’t quite right, but you can’t put your finger on it.

You start to question everything:
Am I good enough for this?
What if I mess it up?
Do I even deserve this?
Is this really what I wanted?

And then comes the mental spiral—the relentless reel playing in your head:
Did I say too much in that meeting?
Should I have worded that email differently?
Do they think I’m too much? Too quiet? Not enough?
Am I in over my head?
Did I make a mistake? Do I regret this?

You overanalyze. You replay every interaction. You carry invisible weight on your shoulders, trying to make sense of it all.

And just when you think you’ve hit your breaking point, that voice shows up—the shame whisper:
“You should feel grateful. This is what you wanted, remember?”

If we are being honest, getting what you wanted doesn’t always feel the way you thought it would…And that is okay. Sometimes we hit milestones or reach goals and still feel… off. You think you should feel proud, accomplished, grateful. And maybe you do — but underneath that? A tight chest. Second-guessing. Impostor syndrome. A weird ache you can’t explain.

You’re not broken. You’re not ungrateful. You’re just human.

You can want something deeply and still feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of it.
You can be grateful and terrified at the same time.
You can step into the life you asked for and still find yourself grieving the version you left behind—the one with more sleep, fewer expectations, less pressure, more space.

“Sometimes the greatest thing you can do is sit with your discomfort and not let it define you.”

Sometimes overthinking becomes the way we try to manage that discomfort.
We micromanage what we say, how we show up, how we’re perceived—anything to feel a bit more in control. And when we’re not picking apart ourselves, we start picking apart the situation, the people, the possibilities, the worst-case scenarios.

I think this is where we get stuck:
We don’t always realize when we’ve moved from processing into spiraling. Or we avoid as much as possible and aren’t honest with ourselves; we start to feel pretty lonely.

At first, it starts small—just a few second guesses here and there. But when we keep stuffing those thoughts down (avoid) because we feel ashamed, or ungrateful, or embarrassed, they start to fester. Maybe we’re afraid to admit that something doesn’t feel quite right, that it’s harder than expected, or that it’s simply not what we imagined. Maybe being honest feels scary—because honesty makes it real.

Here’s what I’ve learned (and get slapped in the face with every once in a while):

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Let’s talk about that title for a second.

New Wins, Old Worries.
When you really sit with it, “old worries” might not be entirely accurate. The worries aren’t always old in the literal sense — they might be new reactions to new roles, or evolved anxieties showing up in familiar patterns. But what does feel old is the cycle: the self-doubt, the overthinking, the pressure to feel only gratitude.

And often, that “old worry” is guilt. Or shame.
The stuff we’ve been conditioned to feel anytime our gratitude isn’t loud enough to silence our struggle.
The message we absorb — sometimes subtly, sometimes directly — is: If you’re lucky, you shouldn’t feel anything but lucky.

So while the specifics may be fresh, the emotional experience has a “here we go again” familiarity.

Overthinking is often a sneaky form of self-protection.
It gives us the illusion of control. We think that if we replay something enough times, we can prevent future pain or dissect where it went wrong. But really, we’re just reinforcing our fear and causing unnecessary stress. All of this ruminating becomes pretty exhausting and time consuming.

The transition into something new is harder than people admit.
You don’t just snap into your new role or identity overnight. There’s an adjustment period—an awkward, tender in-between filled with discomfort, doubt, and identity shifts. There’s even grief—because even good things bring change, and change brings loss.

Feeling conflicted doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.
You’re allowed to hold multiple truths at once. You can feel proud and panicked, excited and exhausted, fulfilled and still quietly wondering what comes next. Human emotions are messy and layered. Let them be.

Sometimes, your brain is just trying to keep you safe.
If you’ve experienced trauma or instability, joy might feel like a setup. You brace for disappointment because that’s what you’ve been conditioned to expect. And in that tension, self-sabotage can sneak in—we’d rather blow it up ourselves than wait for it to fall apart. At least then, we’re in “control”.

You’re not on everyone else’s mind as much as you think.
Seriously. They’ve moved on from that moment. You can too. And if they haven’t? That’s about them. Life gets a little lighter when you stop making yourself small just to fit inside someone else’s opinion. You don’t owe anyone a performance, but you do owe it to yourself to take up space in your own life—to prioritize your peace, your needs, your growth.

The problem isn’t the thought—it’s what we do with it.
It’s okay to have a weird, anxious, uncertain thought. But the second we start thinking about our thought – dissecting it, assigning meaning to it, and making it mean something about who we are… that’s when we spiral. Thoughts aren’t facts. They’re not predictions. They’re just thoughts. Let them pass through you, not define you.

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So What Can You Do?

Name it. (sometimes, even out loud)
“This is fear talking.”
“This is overthinking.”
“This is my brain trying to protect me.”
Labeling the experience gives us a bit of distance. It disarms the story.

Get out of your head and into your body.
Move. Stretch. Breathe. Step outside. Drink some damn water. Interrupt the spiral.

Talk it out.
Say the thing out loud to someone safe. Sometimes all it takes is hearing yourself to realize the thought doesn’t have power over you anymore or that is okay to be honest. Talking it through with someone supportive in your life can bring some relief, clarity and comfort.

And remember:
You are not behind, you are not wrong, you are not a bad person.

Transitions are tender. They are messy and hard and beautiful. They force us to meet ourselves in a new way. That process is sacred. Let it take the time it needs.

You didn’t make a mistake. Maybe it’s not what you imagined, but that doesn’t mean it was the wrong choice. Every experience—yes, even this one—is a teacher. Let it shape you. Let it stretch you. Let it clarify what you want next.

Be kind to past-you. That version of you who wanted this? They believed in your ability to carry it. Maybe it’s not what you pictured, but you made it here. You kept going. Give yourself grace.

So yeah—maybe you’re overthinking.
Maybe you’re struggling to enjoy the very thing you once begged for.
Maybe you’re quietly wondering why it doesn’t feel easier, better, more fulfilling.

But please remember this:

You’re not broken.
You’re not ungrateful.
You’re not the only one.

You’re just human, adjusting to the weight of growth.

Take a deep breath.
Feel it.
Let it pass.

And when in doubt—come back to the present.
There’s still life happening here, too.

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“Becoming isn’t easy. It’s just worth it.”

-keep shining
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