It's Not That Serious by Alexandra

It's Not That Serious by Alexandra - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

If I could give one piece of advice to my past self, it would be this: “You don’t need to overanalyze every little thing. Be your unapologetic self. It really isn’t always that serious.”

As a chronic overthinker, I’ve turned everything, from simple one-word texts to brief moments of eye contact, into Oscar-winning horror movies in my mind. If someone told me “okay,” I’d interpret it as “I hate you.” I’d translate “whatever you want” to “I don’t care.” During serious conversations over text, I’d pre-write my responses in my notes just to make sure I didn’t accidentally say the wrong thing. I’ve rewritten texts and overanalyzed every possible outcome thousands of times before actually sending them. And once I did, I’d reread them a hundred more times after, wondering if I came off the wrong way or said something I didn’t mean.

I thought that if I could analyze and predict what would happen or what someone was thinking, then I could protect myself from embarrassment, regret, and conflict. Spoiler alert: I couldn’t. For me, the worst part about overthinking is that it feels productive. I convinced myself that I was being careful and responsible, but really all I did was waste time and energy trying to solve problems that didn’t even exist yet. Opportunities passed and, yet, I was still sitting there thinking about what I should’ve done.

I’d avoid speaking up in group projects because I didn’t want to seem controlling, and I’d hesitate to ask for help in class because I didn’t want people to think I was “stupid” or think that I was asking a “dumb” question. Even with friends, I often kept things to myself because I couldn’t figure out the “perfect” way to say it. Thus, I said nothing and let small things build up in my head. I remember once in school, we were doing a Socratic seminar where participation was necessary in order to succeed. Instead of actively participating, I spent the whole class debating whether or not I should speak next or answer a question I knew the answer to. By the time I worked up the courage, the discussion had moved on, and someone else had already said what I wanted to say. Needless to say, I did not get a good grade for that seminar. I wasn’t even disappointed that I didn’t get to speak—I was disappointed that I let my thoughts talk me out of something I could’ve done if I just trusted myself. Even after winning at a competition, I didn’t feel satisfied. I thought, “Maybe I didn’t deserve it,” or “They deserved it more.” That’s the thing about overthinking — it doesn’t let you enjoy the win. It keeps you stuck in the past, making it hard to fully experience the present.

It tricks you into believing you’re doing something, when really, you’re just avoiding something. I realized that the root of my overthinking came from a fear of how people would see me. I constantly worried about what others would think if I said what I truly wanted to say or acted in a way that didn’t fit their version of me. I didn’t want to make mistakes or be seen as anything less than composed. But over time, I began to understand that overthinking holds you back. It keeps you from being fully present and from showing up as your authentic self. It prevents you from expressing how you really feel, and that silence can slowly chip away at the relationships that matter most to you. I didn’t confront people when I had a problem with them because I believed that staying quiet would preserve the “peace” around me. But that’s not peace — it’s avoidance. Real peace comes from honesty and being willing to sit in the discomfort of difficult conversations. Because I avoided those moments, I missed out on meaningful opportunities to grow as a person and held myself back from saying what I truly thought or felt.

This realization caused a shift in how I thought about things. I became more lenient with myself. I allowed myself to make mistakes, to say things without overthinking every word, and to commit to things without hesitation. And as I did, I became more confident and more grounded in who I was and who I was becoming.

If I could sit down with my younger self, I’d tell her: “You don’t need to run every possible outcome before taking a step. Live in the present moment. Speaking up in class and raising my hand even when I wasn’t sure were the moments that helped me grow. The more space I allowed myself to take up, the more I discovered that my voice wasn’t just valid, but also needed. You’re allowed to trust yourself, even if your voice shakes. There’s no point in dwelling on the ‘what if’s’ or the ‘should’ve beens’. Life is all about making mistakes. It’s going to be messy — that’s the whole point. Life’s not meant to be rehearsed. Allow yourself to make those mistakes and leave the past in the past. You’ve thought enough. Say the thing, do the thing, let it be messy—and just live.”