There are two kinds of people in this world.
The ones who scroll on a food delivery app for an hour, analyzing every cuisine, calorie count, delivery time, and review before realizing their stomach has already given up on them.
And the ones who waltz into a bookstore, pick up a random book from the front shelf, and head straight to billing without batting an eyelid.
Unfortunately, sometimes I am both.
I’ve been that person staring at my phone, toggling between biryani and pasta as if I was responsible for national peace, only to end up with a cup of tea. Yes, my brain tapped out before my stomach did. Classic case of decision fatigue disguised as overthinking.
But I’ve also been the girl who walked into Crossword and bought the first book that blinked at me. No research, no reviews, no “do I actually need this?” Just vibes. And then, standing at the counter, I’d tell myself — if not what I expect, this book will at least teach me something. That’s underthinking in its most romanticized form.
So here’s the real question: how do we balance these two extremes — overthinking until our brain fries, and underthinking until our choices feel like happy accidents?
Overthinking: When Identity and Control Take the Wheel
Let’s start with the food-app spiral. That wasn’t just about being hungry. It was about wanting to get it “right.” About thinking that one wrong food order could somehow ruin my entire evening.
Overthinking often shows up when identity and control sneak into the decision. It’s rarely just: what should I eat?
It’s more like:
- what does this say about me?
- am I being responsible with my money?
- should I pick something healthy?
- will future-me regret this choice?
It’s not the pasta that keeps me scrolling. It’s the weight of identity and the illusion of control.
And here’s the irony: the more we overthink, the less control we actually feel. You’d think analyzing 47 menus would give clarity, but no — it gives exhaustion. You don’t arrive at a decision; you arrive at burnout. My tea was less about hunger and more about surrender.
Overthinking convinces us that if we don’t think through everything, we’re being reckless. But more often than not, the real recklessness is losing hours of our life to decisions that don’t deserve that kind of mental real estate.
Underthinking: The Charm (and Chaos) of Detachment
I can’t count how many times I’ve impulse-bought books. No thought, no hesitation. Just walked in, picked one up, and walked out like I had been sent on a secret mission. Later, I’d come home and add it to the pile of unread books that glare at me with a silent, judgmental energy.
But here’s the thing: underthinking doesn’t always come from carelessness. For me, it often comes from detachment. It’s like saying — not every choice needs to be dissected. Sometimes, a decision can be light, instinctive, even carefree.
Underthinking feels like freedom. It gives you the thrill of spontaneity, the relief of not needing to justify everything. But that freedom can also build up consequences: unread books, rushed yes-es, missed details. It’s liberating in the moment, but the aftermath sometimes feels like a puzzle you didn’t sign up to solve.
Why We Swing Between the Two
If you think about it, both of these extremes are rooted in our emotional needs.
Overthinking comes from wanting certainty. Wanting to know we’re in control, that we won’t regret what we choose.
Underthinking comes from wanting detachment. Wanting to be free, unbothered, not weighed down by a hundred tiny calculations.
Neither is wrong. They’re both survival modes. But leaning too hard into one makes life lopsided.
If you only overthink, you end up paralyzed.
If you only underthink, you end up scattered.
But when you let them talk to each other, when control reminds freedom to check the basics, and freedom reminds control to relax — that’s when you get balance.
What Balance Looks Like (for Me, at Least)
I wish I could give you a magic formula, but honestly, balance looks different every day. Some days, I need to stop analyzing and just order the biryani. Other days, I need to pause before I buy my fourth productivity book in a row while the others bask on my bookshelf.
What helps me is asking myself small questions in the moment:
- Am I spiraling or thinking?
- Am I being carefree or careless?
- Does this choice really define me, or is it just dinner?
It’s not about shutting down overthinking or underthinking. It’s about noticing which side I’m on and pulling myself gently back toward the middle.
Sometimes, I mentally note down both extremes, the overthought version of the decision and the under-thought version. Usually, the truth lies somewhere in between.
And sometimes, I give myself a time limit. Ten minutes for small decisions. If I’m still stuck after that, I pick something and move on. Because life is too short to be held hostage by menus.
Right? Right?
The Bigger Picture is This.
Balance is not about perfect decisions.
It’s about allowing yourself to exist in the shades of grey.
Overthinking and underthinking aren’t your rivals. They’re more like two friends who argue all the time but secretly keep each other in check.
Overthinking reminds me that my choices matter.
Underthinking reminds me that not every choice matters that much.
Together, they teach me that life is meant to be both deliberate and spontaneous.
I’ll End With This…
Some days require spreadsheets, some days require vibes.
I like to think of it this way: my overthinking self is the one who reads every menu before ordering dinner. My underthinking self is the one who buys random books like Google is paying for it. And the balanced me? She’s the one who realizes both are part of the story, and neither could ever be the complete truth.
So maybe the real art isn’t about thinking more or less.
It’s about thinking just enough.
