Overthinking, Sourdough, and Learning to Move Forward

When the Mind Won’t Let Go

There was a time when my mind felt like it had no off switch.

When I first got sober, I thought the hardest part would be not drinking. And in many ways, it was. But what I wasn’t prepared for was what came after.

The thinking.

The replaying.

The constant loop of looking back over my life and asking the same questions again and again.

Why did I do that.
How did I let it get that far.
Who did I hurt.
What would have been different if I had made other choices.

It wasn’t reflection. It was rumination.

And it kept me stuck.

The Loop That Keeps You Standing Still

Overthinking has a way of disguising itself as responsibility.

It feels like you are trying to understand.
Trying to take ownership.
Trying to make sense of what happened.

But there is a point where it shifts.

It stops being helpful and starts becoming a loop.

The same thoughts.
The same regret.
The same conclusions that lead nowhere new.

And while your mind is busy circling the past, your life is standing still in the present.

That loop can quietly block everything.

Healing.
Growth.
Peace.
Forward movement.

Even freedom.

Responsibility Without Self-Punishment

Sobriety taught me something I had to learn slowly.

Taking responsibility does not require self-punishment.

Yes, I had to look honestly at my life.
Yes, I had to acknowledge the ways I showed up and the ways I didn’t.
Yes, I had to make amends where I could.

But I also had to learn when to stop.

When to stop replaying.
When to stop trying to rewrite what cannot be rewritten.
When to stop using my past as evidence against myself.

Because there is a difference between accountability and attachment.

One moves you forward.

The other keeps you bound.

What Sourdough Taught Me About Letting Go

I did not expect sourdough to help me with this.

But it did.

Because sourdough does not live in the past.

It lives in the present.

The dough in front of you does not care about yesterday’s loaf.
It does not respond to regret.
It responds to what you do now.

The temperature of the room.
The feel of the dough.
The timing of your folds.

It asks for attention.

Not overthinking.
Not control.
Just presence.

And slowly, standing at my counter, I began to understand something.

I could not think my way into healing.

I had to live my way into it.

Learning to Stay in the Now

Overthinking always pulls you out of the present.

Into the past.
Into imagined futures.
Into stories that have already been written or have not happened yet.

Sourdough brought me back.

Back to my hands.
Back to my breath.
Back to what was actually in front of me.

Feed the starter.
Mix the dough.
Wait.
Fold.
Wait again.

There is no rushing it.

There is no overanalyzing your way through it.

You participate.

You respond.

You trust.

And in that rhythm, something begins to quiet.

Forgiveness Is Not a Thought Process

For a long time, I thought forgiveness was something I had to figure out.

If I just thought about it enough, understood it deeply enough, maybe I could arrive at it.

But forgiveness is not something you think your way into.

It is something you practice.

It is something you choose, over and over again.

Sometimes without feeling it right away.

Sometimes without full resolution.

But with a willingness to release your grip on what has already passed.

Sourdough showed me that too.

You cannot hold onto every stage of the process.

You have to let it move.

Let it rest.
Let it rise.
Let it become something new.

Faith and the Space Between

There is a space in sourdough that cannot be controlled.

The waiting.

The unseen transformation.

You do your part, and then you step back.

Faith lives in that space.

Not certainty.
Not control.
Faith.

Sobriety asked that of me.

Life asked that of me.

And over time, I began to trust that not everything had to be solved in my mind.

Some things had to be placed in God’s hands.

Find Your Sourdough

There is a reason I say this.

Find your sourdough.

Not necessarily bread.

But the thing that brings you into the present.

The thing that requires your hands, your attention, your willingness to show up.

The thing that interrupts the loop.

For me, it was this.

Flour.
Water.
Salt.
Time.

For you, it may be something else.

But it matters.

Because overthinking thrives in stillness without direction.

It loses its grip when you engage with something real.

Something grounding.

Something that asks you to participate in your own becoming.

Moving Forward

I still catch myself sometimes.

Still slipping into old patterns of thinking.

But now I recognize it sooner.

And instead of staying there, I come back.

Back to the present.
Back to the work.
Back to what is mine to do today.

Because healing is not found in replaying the past.

It is found in how you choose to live now.

Closing Reflection

You cannot think your way into a different life.

But you can live your way into one.

One choice.
One moment.
One small act of showing up at a time.

And sometimes, that is where everything begins again.

Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb