Overthinking can look like perfectionism, or ADHD. And maybe it is. But sometimes, it’s not that, or more than that. Sometimes, overthinking is a clever avoidance tactic—because deep down, you’re afraid to admit what you truly want.

I should know. I’m an expert.

I’ve overthought my way out of a dozen things that mattered to me. Most recently? My vlog. I spent months spiraling: What should it look like? Will I come across as too woo-woo? Will people judge me? Will it be any good? So, I never recorded a single video.
The irony is, most people aren’t spending that much time thinking about me. As a partner of a dear friend once said, “People are wrapped up in themselves.” Harsh but probably true.

So why all this mental gymnastics?

Here’s my theory: I’m scared to admit what I truly want. Not just to the world—to myself.

And it’s wild, because going after the impossible used to be my thing. I’ve chased goals no one believed I could reach: building a business career in Kyiv without connections, getting into Wharton from Ukraine, becoming a professional investor. When the full-scale invasion began, I helped launch a grant program that became a major force for Ukraine’s grassroots NGOs.

Taking action has always been my default setting. My Ukrainian friends joke: “Ten miles is no detour for a crazy dog.” That was me. Apply to Wharton three times? Done. Take the GMAT six times? No problem. Just. Don’t. Stop.

And yet, recently—I’ve stopped.

I tell myself it’s because I don’t know what I want. But the deeper truth is: I’m afraid to want what I want. Afraid to name it. Afraid to look foolish or fail. So instead, I reach for the “acceptable” wants—respectable, realistic things that don’t rock the boat.

But here’s what I really want:
I want to write and speak about my spiritual journey. About divine connection. About how the Universe dances through us. About angels, quantum consciousness, awakening, and the heartbreak and ecstasy of becoming who you are.
I want to be a writer like Marianne Williamson or Glennon Doyle. A teacher like Teal Swan or Dolores Cannon. A spiritual leader. A speaker. A podcast host. A course creator. A film producer. An entrepreneur.

And yes, I want true love. With children. At 50.

Just writing that feels radical. A little unhinged. Definitely uncool.

But it’s true.

And yet I cling to mediocrity—not because I want it, but because it feels safe. It’s the beige trench coat of life. It’s not ugly. It’s not risky. It’s just... fine.

How does one secretly aspire to be extraordinary while clinging to what’s merely fine?
So here I am. Faced with a choice: Keep hiding behind what feels safe, or step out and claim the life I actually want. Even if it’s weird. Even if I get judged. Even if I fail.

Because honestly, I’m tired of waiting for permission.

I saw a reel recently that said, for a woman at midlife, there are only so many sunrises left. That hit me. I want to make every single one count.
I want to wake up and think, OMG, I can’t believe I get to do this.
So maybe the answer isn’t to overthink less. Maybe it’s to want more. Want truthfully. Want fully. Want outrageously.

And maybe, once I let myself want what I want, the steps will follow.
This article is one of them.

So here it is. My first step. My declaration to the Universe:
I want to be a writer and a teacher. I want to find true love and start a family. At 50.

If this resonated…
You’re not alone. I work with people navigating transitions—career, identity, self-worth, love. If you’d like support on your journey, I offer private hypnotherapy sessions. Learn more or book here.

About the author
Elena Anfimova is a writer, hypnotherapist, and spiritual seeker who left a high-powered career to find her inner voice. She writes about healing, self-worth, and the beautifully messy process of becoming.

Acknowledgements:
This article was edited by Chat GPT. I am very grateful for it’s support in getting it ready for publishing. Only took three months to write lol.