Overthinking on Repeat : The Psychology behind Generalized Anxiety Disorder
Most mornings, I wake up thinking about the email I still haven’t sent, whether my friend’s “okay” last night actually meant “not okay,” what my future will look like, and yes… breakfast. My brain doesn’t exactly ease into the day — it skips the warm-up and goes straight into Olympic-level overthinking.
For the longest time, I thought this was just me being “a worrier” or “someone who thinks too much.” But there’s a difference between having a busy mind and living with a brain that’s constantly scanning for threats. That difference has a name: Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD).
What GAD Really Is (and Isn’t)
GAD isn’t about one specific fear — it’s about all the fears, big and small, setting up camp in your head rent-free. The American Psychological Association defines it as excessive anxiety and worry, more days than not, for at least six months.
But here’s what that looks like in real life: it’s like having a smoke alarm that goes off every time you make toast. You know nothing’s on fire, but the alarm still blares, and you can’t just unplug it.
And it’s not just in your thoughts — anxiety has a way of showing up in your body, too. Restlessness. Tight shoulders. Headaches. Stomach issues. Fatigue that feels unfair for how little you “did.” It’s your brain’s way of reminding you it’s on edge, even when you’d really like it to take a day off.
One of the hardest parts is that GAD often disguises itself as “being prepared.” Re-reading a text three times before sending it. Playing out scenarios in your head “just in case.” Making backup plans for your backup plans. It can look like productivity — but when it never ends, it’s not preparedness, it’s anxiety taking the wheel.
The Psychology Behind the “What If” Loop
In The Anxiety Toolkit, psychologist Dr. Alice Boyes explains that anxiety is your brain’s safety system in overdrive. The amygdala — your internal alarm system — is like an overprotective friend who thinks it’s helping by pointing out every possible danger, no matter how small.
The problem? It can’t always tell the difference between “I left the stove on” and “my professor used a period instead of an exclamation mark in their email.”
Normally, the prefrontal cortex — the part of your brain responsible for logic and reasoning — steps in to fact-check these alarms. But in GAD, that communication doesn’t always run smoothly. The amygdala screams, the prefrontal cortex lags behind, and suddenly you’re replaying a conversation from three days ago like it’s a cold case file.
This is why GAD feels so exhausting. Your brain is running constant simulations of future disasters, while your body is carrying the physical tension of preparing for them — even if nothing actually happens.
Making Peace With an Overactive Mind
Here’s the thing: the goal isn’t to eliminate anxiety altogether (spoiler: impossible). Anxiety, at its core, is protective. But with GAD, it’s like having a bodyguard who thinks every passing shadow is a threat. The task isn’t firing the bodyguard — it’s teaching them to relax.
For me, that’s meant experimenting with ways to work with my brain instead of constantly fighting it:
Grounding exercises — pulling myself into the present by focusing on what I can see, hear, or feel. Even something simple like noticing the feeling of my feet on the ground can interrupt the spiral.
Scheduled worry time — giving my brain permission to spiral, but on a set timer, so it doesn’t hijack the whole day. Weirdly, knowing I have a “worry appointment” later makes it easier to let go in the moment.
Leaning into uncertainty — resisting the urge to text three friends for reassurance and instead letting myself sit with the discomfort of not knowing. Spoiler: the world didn’t fall apart.
Reframing self-talk — swapping “Why can’t I just chill?” for “Okay, my brain is trying to protect me. How can I help it feel safe?”
None of these strategies are magic fixes. But they’re ways of turning the volume down from “blaring static” to “background noise” — and that difference is huge.
Why Understanding GAD Matters
When I first learned the psychology behind GAD, it didn’t cure my anxiety, but it gave me a new lens. I stopped seeing it as a personal flaw and started seeing it as a brain function that’s just a little too committed.
And knowing that changes how I talk to myself. It’s not “Why can’t I just chill?” — it’s “Okay, my brain is trying to protect me. How can I help it feel safe?”
If you’re living in “what if” mode, you’re not broken. You’re human. And with the right tools, you can teach your brain that not every toast alarm means there’s a fire.
Reference
Peter Stanley. (2015). [Rev. of The anxiety toolkit: Strategies for fine-tuning your mind and moving past your stuck points [Book Review]]. Aotearoa New Zealand Social Work, 27(3), 87–89.
