From Overthinking to Freedom: Rediscovering Your Inner Spark

When I watch my toddler niece learn to walk, I’m in awe. She grabs the edge of a table, pulls herself up, wobbles, and falls—then tries again. No overthinking, no fear of failure. Just pure, joyful curiosity as she reaches for flowers in the garden or digs her tiny hands into the sand. She’s alive in the moment, exploring the world with every step.

I used to be like that. In my mid-20s, I packed a single bag and moved across the world. No plan, no return ticket. When friends asked, “When are you coming back?” I’d shrug, “Maybe a year,” but in my heart, I had no timeline. I just wanted to feel the cobblestone streets under my feet, taste new foods, and soak in every sight and sound. Like my niece, I wasn’t thinking—I was living.

Now, at 50, I catch myself overthinking everything. Starting a new project for my business feels daunting. My mind swirls: What will people say? Am I too old to try this? 

As a caregiver for my husband, I’ve felt this even more—pressure to cook every meal, manage every task, keep everyone informed and happy. Society’s whispers creep in: You should be able to do it all.

But over the past nine months, I’ve learned something profound: I’m human. I can’t do everything, and that’s okay. Some nights, I order homemade dinners instead of cooking. I’ve hired a support worker to help with my husband’s care. When friends want to drop by, I gently explain our routine—medication, rest, and quiet mornings—and ask them to respect it. These aren’t failures; they’re acts of love for myself and my family.

Through my clinic, I’ve seen how overthinking traps us. It’s not just me—it’s the parents feeling guilty for setting boundaries, the dreamers afraid to take a leap, the caregivers too embarrassed to ask for help. We’re weighed down by what others might think. 

In my kinesiology sessions, I guide clients to release those blocks—those old stories and fears stored in our body and subconscious mind, just as I use kinesiology every day on myself to tune in and listen. I make sure to carve out time to truly hear my body's signals, without overriding or ignoring its quiet wisdom. We rediscover what feels true, what lights us up. It’s like learning to walk again: one brave, wobbly step at a time.

I’m still learning to quiet my own overthinking. Each day, I carve out time to fill my cup—whether it’s a walk in the garden or a moment of stillness. I’m rewriting my story, choosing what feels right for me, not what others expect. 

If you’re feeling stuck in your head, I invite you to try it too.

Maybe it’s a small step, like saying “no” to one thing that drains you or saying “yes” to something that sparks joy. 

Let’s be like toddlers again—curious, bold, and free. What’s one step you can take today to let go and just be?