In defence of overthinkers ft. Gojira

Last summer, I found myself watching the opening ceremony of the Paris 2024 Olympics in Bordeaux, where I was working at the football venue. Being so close—just 2.5 hours away from Paris—yet unable to watch it live felt less disappointing knowing my husband got to experience it in person. This wasn't planned. He was due to arrive in Paris on the afternoon of July 26th, the day of the opening ceremony, and I only received the email with a ticket that very morning. I messaged him mid-flight: do you think you can make it in time?

He could, and as luck would have it, the seat was right in front of where Gojira performed 'Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça Ira!)'–the same epic performance that, just days ago, won the band, vocalist Marina Viotti, and composer Victor Le Masne a Grammy for the Best Metal Performance.

A moment that felt like pure serendipity. How did I end up with a ticket to the opening ceremony all of a sudden? It felt like a miracle. But was it really? Months before, I had, in all likelihood, filled out a ticket request form from my organisation and completely forgotten about it.

This moment made me pause and reconsider my relationship with what I've long criticised as my excessive planning tendencies. How often have I thought that I'm overthinking this, obsessively planning that, or anticipating every possible scenario? I realised I should be kinder to myself because that is the same part of me that makes me act in advance to plan things.

The world constantly celebrates spontaneity. Heck, I've also felt like I need to be more spontaneous. I have felt envious of those around me who can change any plan in a second and not feel completely overwhelmed by these changes. Those of us who plan ten steps in advance, typically end up feeling completely obsessive. “Sorry, I'm just an overthinker,” we say, as if it's a character flaw that needs constant acknowledgment.

Last year, my therapist asked me to make a poster with SELF-COMPASSION written in big bold letters and put it somewhere I can see it a lot. One of the things I needed to work on was being kinder to myself.

When I see people around me being relaxed, unfazed by a form with a messily scratched-out mistake in ink, I catch myself wondering: Why can't I be more like them? Why does my brain need everything to be perfect? Why do I obsess over whether they'll reject the form?

But I reflect on all the times my “overthinking” has quietly served me—from knowing the transit visa rules, to creating backup plans for tight connections, and packing extra ready-to-eat meals for places without easily available vegetarian meals. These weren't acts of anxiety; they were acts of care. Care for my future self, care for the smooth unfolding of experiences yet to come.

What if the instinct to overthink isn't our enemy, after all? What if it serves a purpose? The same mental machinery that keeps us up at night thinking about every exclamation mark in a message, and about making backup plans to our backup plans, is the same one that looks out for our future selves. It's the part of us that anticipates potential problems and takes steps to mitigate them.

This doesn't mean that every worried thought is productive, or a backup plan will always serve a purpose. If your planning is constantly keeping you up at night, causing you significant stress, or preventing you from enjoying the present (which it can, time and again, as I can testify), it's worth examining the root of that anxiety.

So now when I catch myself in a planning spiral, I try to pause and ask: Is this my anxiety speaking, or is this the voice of someone who has learned through living that a little forethought can make my life easier later?

Maybe I can't be the person who can book a last-minute trip, or thrive in total chaos, but I’m also the person who ended up with an Olympic opening ceremony ticket because, months ago, I filled out a form just in case. And I remind myself that past me deserves a little more credit.