From Overthinking to Observation—The Journey Back to Peace | THEBEYONDWOMAN

When someone didn’t text me back or return my call, I wasn’t as unbothered as I’d let on. Externally, I might have seemed calm, collected, even indifferent. But internally? I was picking myself apart. What did I do? Did I say something wrong? Is it me? That spiral started fast, and it ran deep. I know because I’ve been there. Overthinking turns your mind into a courtroom where you’re always on trial—with no real evidence and no way to win. Nights were spent replaying conversations, wondering where I messed up. Days were spent staring at my phone, hoping for a reply that might never come. And I realized that:
Overthinking robs you of meaningful connection.

It convinces you that you’re the problem, that you’re always at fault, that silence or distance is a reflection of your worth. That silence means rejection, and distance means you’ve done something wrong. At some point, I had to get brutally honest with myself. I started mentally stripping myself bare. I looked at the stories I was telling in my own mind—and what I found wasn’t pretty. I had to confront the mental ugliness, the lies I believed, the assumptions rooted in fear, not fact. Most of it came from my own insecurities, not reality.

And the truth I uncovered was this:
You can’t find peace in another person if peace doesn’t first live within you.

When peace is missing internally, we chase it externally. We force conversations, obsess over texts, replay moments—all because we’re looking for someone else to regulate our inner chaos. But that’s not their job. That’s ours. Sometimes someone doesn’t respond right away. No text. No call. No feedback. And your mind jumps in:
What did I do wrong? Are they ignoring me? Am I not enough? But it might not have anything to do with you at all. It could simply be that whatever question you ask, whatever decision needs to be made, they need time to mull it over. Whether it’s about hiring you, being with you, supporting you, or choosing you, people are allowed to take time to think and do what’s best for themselves.

This is where observing becomes powerful.
Instead of assuming, you observe.
Instead of spiraling, you hold space.

You remind yourself: Everyone is entitled to make thoughtful decisions. I don’t need to create a story around this. Whatever the outcome, I’ll be okay. Because whatever the decision may be, something good must come from it. You either learn something about yourself and grow from it, or a higher power is preparing greener pastures for you. And above all, you get to choose the narrative that best supports your mental and emotional health. Not everything is personal. Not everything is rejection. Sometimes, it’s redirection—or protection in disguise.

The first question that helped shift me out of those spirals was simple but powerful:
“Do I even like feeling this way?”

Do I like being in mental turmoil? Do I enjoy the overthinking, the knots in my stomach, the emotional rollercoaster? Or would I rather have clarity—peace in my mind and peace in my external life? The answer is always clear.

So now, I choose peace. Over and over again.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when the answers aren’t clear yet.

My mother always told me:
“What people think of you is none of your business. Just be and do you.” That line has lived in my head on a loop, and it’s one of the most freeing lessons I’ve ever learned. Because once you stop obsessing over how you’re perceived—whether you’re liked, disliked, misunderstood, or adored—you reclaim your power. You stop outsourcing your peace. You stop living for approval. And you start living from a place of inner truth. No one gets to define your worth unless you let them. And if you don’t give them that power? You stay grounded. Centered. Unshaken. That’s what it means just to be and do you.

So I’ve been showing up as my authentic self—flaws and all. But let me be clear: these aren’t flaws I hide behind. These are flaws I work on every single day. Flaws I’m committed to improving—not because I’m not worthy as I am, but because I believe growth is part of honoring who I really am. Why? Because if I ask anyone—especially my child—to show up as their best self, if I ask them to be honest, accountable, and intentional, then I must hold myself to the same standard. “Be you and do you” isn’t a free pass to stay the same.
It’s a call to be honest, real, and actively evolving—not performative, not perfect—just true.

Being authentic doesn’t mean being unchanged. It means being committed to becoming—with love, with awareness, and with integrity. When you’re functioning from a state of internal chaos—overthinking, anxiety, confusion—you have to be mindful about who you turn to. Not everyone who claims to be there for you truly is. And some people, with the best or worst intentions, will only add fuel to the fire. They don’t bring peace—they amplify the problem. When you’re vulnerable, it’s easy to cling to whoever will listen. But remember: people respond from where they are in their own consciousness. If they’re carrying unhealed baggage or low emotional awareness, their advice or reactions will be jaded—and you may find yourself in an even deeper mess. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t reach out. There’s no shame in admitting you overthink. There’s no shame in wanting better for your mind. And there’s no shame in asking for help.

But exercise discernment. Choose your safe spaces wisely. And if you’re someone who prays, talk to God about it. No matter where you are, what you’ve done, or what you’re struggling with—God is for you. Always. The more you seek God—the more you choose to look for good in every part of your life—the more you’ll experience it. Peace. Clarity. Alignment. The right people. The right answers.

Here’s something I remind myself often:
You are both a work in progress and a masterpiece. You can be healing and still whole. Growing and still worthy. You don’t need to have it all together to be at peace. When you learn to observe life without judgment—without taking everything personally—you start living in the now. You appreciate the unfolding. You see the beauty in both the becoming and the being. You don’t have to chase peace. You simply allow it.

Whatever energy you place behind a thought becomes your experience. Fear feeds more fear. But peace feeds peace. The more you give your energy to stillness, awareness, and self-trust, the more you experience those things in your relationships, decisions, and life. I’ve lived both ways. I’ve lived in overthinking, emotional chaos, and constant worry. And I’ve lived in observation, peace, and clarity. One feels like survival, and the other feels like freedom.

If you’re spiraling right now—if you’re stuck in your head, doubting your worth, questioning your place, waiting for someone to choose you—I want you to pause. Take a breath. And ask yourself: Do I like feeling this way? If not, choose differently. Choose peace. Choose trust. Choose to be and do you. Know that you’re not the problem.
You’re the answer.

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