When I couldn’t find an answer

I’m one of those people who can’t seem to stop thinking. Almost obsessively, about everything.

My mind is constantly creating scenarios. I replay conversations I’ve already had, rehearsing what I wish I’d said in the moment, even when I know that moment has gone and I won’t get another chance to say it.

I worry about my weight. I go over things I wish I’d realised sooner and ask myself how I could have been so stupid to miss something that matters so much to me now. I imagine the worst that could happen. I second-guess myself.

Sometimes I struggle to concentrate because my mind keeps returning to the same thing. I’m trying to give my attention to what I’m doing, and there I am, back in that conversation, that worry, that question.

I have spent hours, nights, days like this. Sometimes I would be deep into the same thoughts before I even noticed I was going round again.

During a particularly difficult period in my life, my mental health deteriorated and the rumination became unbearable. I was going through painful things, and I was so anxious that I knew I needed to find a way to interrupt those thoughts. I couldn’t keep spending hours and nights going over them.

This was around the time I began building TEG-Blue. One of the questions I was trying to answer was how to stop ruminating. I remember coming across an article about the brain and problem-solving. I don’t remember which article it was, but I remember the idea I took from it: that the mind keeps looking for solutions.

I began wondering whether that was part of what I was doing. Was I returning to the same thoughts because I was still trying to find an answer? That question led me to read more about how we try to solve problems, and to look more closely at what was happening in my own thinking.

As I began paying attention to what I was thinking and feeling, I started asking what answer I was looking for and whether I had what I needed to find it.

Sometimes the answer depended on someone else. I needed information I didn’t have, or a conversation with someone who wasn’t available. Sometimes that person didn’t want to speak to me. I could keep rehearsing what I would say, but I couldn’t have both sides of the conversation on my own.

I began trying to explain this to myself: you’re still looking for an answer, but you don’t have enough information to find it right now. If the person you need to speak to isn’t available, you can’t finish this conversation. If they don’t want to have it, you can’t make that happen by thinking about it for longer.

I found that frustrating. I wanted to understand what had happened. But seeing my thoughts as an attempt to resolve something helped me ask whether going over it again could actually help. When I could recognise that it wouldn’t give me the information I needed, I tried to put the question aside for a while and consciously find something else to do.

It took a long time to learn to do this. At first I understood the idea, and then I would find myself ruminating, ruminating, ruminating. I could spend hours going round something before I noticed: I’m doing it again. I’m still trying to solve this.

Recognising it gave me a chance to remind myself of what I already understood and try to put my effort somewhere else. I had to do that again and again. Understanding why I might be caught in those thoughts came before being able to notice them and interrupt them.

I’m in a much better place with it now. There are still days when I go over something, especially when something very painful has happened to me or someone I love. I still want to know why. What I’ve learnt is to ask whether I can do anything to find out, or whether I’m going over the same things without any more information than I had before. That helps me recognise when I need to put it aside for a while, even though I still want an answer.

Some of those questions are still unanswered. I’m learning to let them stay that way for a while, and to give my attention to the other things in my life that matter to me too.