Unraveling the Mind of an Overthinker in Relationships

For me, when I get into an intimate relationship, I automatically know how the ending will be before it’s even begun. I’m an overthinker through and through. I overthink every minute detail about anything and everything, asking myself questions like: Could I see myself with that person every day? Does their personality flow with mine? And the question I always need to know: Are they going to accept me for me?

I always think long-term when getting into a relationship. Short-term just doesn’t work for me anymore. I’m looking for a life partner, not someone who will stay temporarily. I want depth, passion, and comfort. I need to know that I’m safe with someone before I can even let them in.

This pattern isn’t limited to romantic relationships. Friendships, family connections, even casual acquaintances—I notice the same overthinking there.

I have friendships that have lasted for years now, and I still get in my head. I’ll be in a room with them, talking, laughing, and then all of a sudden, my mind starts spiraling with self-doubt. I’ll start questioning if I’m valued, appreciated, and accepted. The ever-present negative mindset takes hold, and I really take digs at myself.

The thing is, I don’t think they ever notice or realize that some of their words, gestures, and tones affect me. I’m a highly sensitive person, and when I notice those changes, I internalize them and make something big out of nothing. But sometimes, the way I’m feeling is justifiable.

I remember a time being with a close group of friends, playing a game. I generally hate board games because it takes me a long time to process directions. It also induces a lot of anxiety and fear of playing the game wrong or making a fool of myself because I still don’t get how to do it no matter how many times someone tells me. But that night, no one wanted me as a partner.

It had just proven to me that they get frustrated with me during games or that they see me as weak. It truly hurt my feelings. Anytime someone mentions, “let’s play a game,” my heart sinks into my stomach. I get so overwhelmed, I start panicking, sweating, and already feel tears start to well because I know it will take me a long time to “get it.” And that’s the thing—I overthink all of this ahead of time and I know how it will end—with me in tears on the verge of meltdown.

Romantic moments can feel like being in a minefield. I once went on a date with someone who seemed nice enough, but they did something that kept bugging me. They kept cracking their neck to one side constantly, his voice was rather monotone, and he seemed disinterested. Throughout the date, I remember just wanting it to end—be done with it so I could go home and decompress.

Later, when he drove me home, he asked me out again. I’d instantly felt a shock from my nervous system. I could barely meet his eyes. I was nervous about hurting his feelings by saying I wasn’t interested, so I said yes. I’d figured I’d give it a second chance because I really wanted connection. But for me, it just didn’t work out. I overthought everything and replayed the first interaction on repeat. I instantly knew from the moment I felt disconnected that it wasn’t going to turn into anything meaningful.

Even at work or in casual social settings, this thinking shows up. I remember being in a meeting, presenting an idea, and later replaying every word—wondering if I sounded competent, if I’d annoyed anyone, if I’d come across the wrong way. The end, the judgment, the hypothetical disappointment—my brain had already imagined it.

Being neurodivergent amplifies this. My mind doesn’t skim over experiences; it absorbs them. Everything leaves an imprint. Tone, pauses, expressions—they linger in my body long after the moment has passed. It’s exhausting, yes, but I’ve started to see that this overthinking comes from a place of deep care. I care about people, connection, and being fully understood. It’s just that my nervous system interprets that care as a potential risk, and it prepares me for every possible outcome before the relationship begins.

Lately, I’ve been trying to meet this pattern with more gentleness. Sometimes that looks like pausing when my mind starts racing and reminding myself that not every feeling needs an immediate conclusion. Sometimes it means grounding myself in what’s actually happening instead of what might happen. And sometimes it simply means giving myself permission to step back when my system feels overwhelmed.

I’ve realized it’s about staying present in the beginning—allowing connection to unfold without constantly measuring it by how it might end. Some days I succeed. Other days, my mind is already at the finish line. But I’m learning that thinking ahead doesn’t mean I can’t also exist here. That I can care deeply and stay rooted in the moment.

Where in your life do you imagine the ending before allowing yourself to fully experience the beginning?

Helpful article: https://counselingcentergroup.com/overthinkers-in-relationships/

“I don’t enter relationships casually. I enter them knowing how deeply I can be affected.”