Many of the women I see in therapy don't come in saying they have anxiety. They come in tired. They come in because something small happened, a message, a look, a comment at Eid and they've been replaying it for three days. They come in because they can't fall asleep, because their mind won't slow down, because they've been running the next twenty-four hours through their head at 2 am like a spreadsheet.
If any of that sounds familiar, you might be surprised how many of the women I work with describe the same thing. Not big loud anxiety. Not panic attacks. Just a low, constant hum of thinking, planning, worrying, checking. It runs in the background so quietly that you sometimes forget it's there. Then you notice you haven't taken a proper breath in an hour.
Whatever we call it, it's exhausting. And it's much more common than people admit.
What overthinking often actually is
In therapy, overthinking is rarely just a habit. It's usually a strategy. Somewhere along the way, thinking became the way you kept yourself safe. If I can just work out every possible response, I won't be caught off guard. If I can rehearse the conversation, I won't say the wrong thing. If I can imagine the worst outcome, I'll be ready for it.
That kind of thinking makes sense at the time. It might have helped you survive a household where things could turn without warning or a school where you had to translate between two worlds or a family where you were the responsible one from a young age. Somewhere in there, you learned that being on top of things was how you stayed okay.
The problem is what happens later. The thinking that once protected you starts to run on its own. You can be in a peaceful moment and still find your brain scanning for what could go wrong. That's the anxiety underneath the overthinking, even when you never call it that.
Why "just stop thinking" doesn't work
Most of us have already tried the obvious things. Meditation apps. Journaling. Going for a walk. Telling ourselves to stop. Sometimes those help a little. Often they don't and that failure becomes another thing to overthink.
The reason is that the thinking isn't really about the thing you're thinking about. It's about what's underneath. When you tell an overthinking mind to be quiet, you're asking it to give up its main job without offering anything in its place. It's like telling someone who's been holding up a wall to just let go.
Therapy, especially the slow kind I practise, doesn't try to shut the thinking off. It works with what the thinking has been trying to do for you. Once that becomes clearer, the thinking often eases without needing to be forced.
The particular pull of being the one who thinks about everything
For a lot of the women I work with, this isn't just individual. It's cultural too. Many of the Muslim women I see grew up as the responsible one. The one who translated at the doctor's. The one who managed the family gathering. The one who noticed when someone was upset before anyone said so. Being alert, being ready, being the one who kept things running smoothly, that was often love in your family and it was also the price of it.
When that role stays with you into adulthood, overthinking is the working shape of it. You keep everyone in your head at once. You don't just plan your day, you plan around everyone else's. If you've read my piece on therapy for second generation Muslim women, you'll recognise the shape. The overthinking often lives inside a much longer story of being the one who held things together.
What therapy actually does with overthinking
We don't rush to fix the thinking. Trying to fix it usually makes it worse, because the mind reads the pressure and speeds up.
Instead, we notice it. Together. What comes up first thing in the morning. What runs in your head at night. What tone your inner voice takes when you make a mistake. Once you start naming these things with someone who isn't rushing you, they lose some of their grip.
We also look at where the pattern started. Not to blame anyone, but because knowing where something learned itself is often what lets it soften. It's hard to grow past a survival strategy while you're still using it. It's much easier to grow past one you can finally see clearly.
Anxiety like this isn't a personality flaw. It's a very intelligent response to a life that once demanded intelligence at that level. The work is helping you notice when the demand has passed.
What people often say after a few months
Not all at once, but slowly, my clients start to tell me things like:
- The thing that used to keep me up at night doesn't tonight.
- I noticed I was rehearsing a conversation and I stopped.
- I said no without over-explaining.
- I was sitting on the sofa doing nothing and it actually felt okay.
- I don't need to have a plan for every eventuality any more.
These aren't dramatic wins. They're what recovery from long-term anxiety actually looks like. Small returns to your body. Small pauses in the noise. Small moments of not needing to be ready for anything.
On faith and anxiety
Some of the women I work with worry that having anxiety means their faith isn't strong enough. It's a very quiet worry. If you're carrying it, please know that anxiety doesn't measure the depth of your relationship with Allah. Bodies get tired. Nervous systems get overworked. Prayer can be part of your healing and so can talking about what's underneath the worry.
I've written more about faith and therapy in is therapy haram? A Muslim therapist's perspective. The short version is that seeking help for how you feel is not a betrayal of your faith. In my experience, it often makes people feel more, not less, grounded in what they believe.
When overthinking overlaps with something bigger
Sometimes the overthinking gets loud because of what's actually happening in your life. A relationship you're not sure about. A marriage that ended and hasn't fully settled inside you yet. A family dynamic that keeps taking more than it gives. If any of that sits underneath your anxiety, you're not alone. I've written separately about therapy after divorce, which can be useful reading if that's part of your story.
If you'd like to start
You don't need to know exactly what you'd say in a first session. You don't need to have language for what's wrong. You can just say something like "my head won't slow down" and we can begin there. A free fifteen minute call is the easiest starting point.
If you're not sure where to begin looking for a therapist who understands your background, my guide to finding a culturally sensitive therapist covers the practical side.
If any of this rings true
A free 15 minute introductory call is the easiest first step. No commitment, just a quiet conversation.
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