#89: Knackering, isn’t it, thinking?
I'm shattered just thinking about it.
There have been times I’ve had to go to bed or take a nap because I’d exhausted myself in my own head.
Not from physical exercise (though I probably needed more of that too), but from thinking.
And then overthinking.
And then going round the same thoughts again.
The frustrating thing is that very little actually gets done.
We hear a lot at work about doing things that “move the needle”. And sure — thinking can do that. But usually only when it’s paired with action.
When you’re on your own in your head — in the car, on the train, in the shower, trying to get to sleep — how often do those thoughts turn into an outcome? A result? Something tangible?
I should make a distinction here. I’m not necessarily talking about confusion (although constant thinking can lead there). I’m talking about relentless mental activity with very little relief.
Replaying conversations.
Questioning things you’ve said.
Running ideas back and forth.
Trying to make sense of things.
Working out what to do next — whether that’s something small on the to-do list or something much bigger.
All while keeping 50 tabs open in your head.
Ironically, I’ve spent time thinking about why it gets to this point.
And it’s not laziness.
It’s not missing some software update.
And it’s not that your life is uniquely complicated.
It’s that there are so many thoughts swirling around — all competing for airtime.
I often picture my thinking like a bowl of spaghetti. I can’t quite tell where one strand starts and another finishes, but I know they’re all tangled together. Or like trying to watch 93 TV channels broadcast on the same wavelength — with the radio on, kids shouting in the background, and six reports due for work.
Busy. Busy. Busy.
So you think more.
You gather more input.
You disappear down internet wormholes.
You read books.
You ask your favourite AI.
And suddenly the thing that felt like the right direction 13 minutes ago now feels completely wrong.
That self-contradiction is exhausting.
It’s like being stuck in a maze. You know there’s an exit somewhere — even if you can’t describe what it looks like — so you keep pouring mental energy into finding it.
But here’s the thing.
Thoughts need somewhere to land.
Without space, without separation, they just keep looping. Round and round and round.
They’re a bit like seeds blowing around in late summer. They need somewhere warm and still to land.
Space. Light. Time.
Only then can they decide whether they want to take root.
People often think they need answers. Or direction. Or a plan.
In my experience, they often feel calmer and clearer well before anything is resolved. Not because things are fixed — but because something has finally been properly held.
Not everything noisy needs solving.
Some things just need a landing spot.
And a bit of space.
My name’s Phil Sterne. I’m a husband, a dad to two teenagers, and we have a small dog called Mable. I turned 50 last year. When I’m not working, you might find me out walking, on family days out, or mountain biking with friends. Or snowboarding, if I’m lucky.
In my work, I help people who feel stuck at a crossroads — not because they lack ability, but because things have become noisy and hard to untangle. I give them space to slow down, think properly, and work out what actually matters next, so they can move forward with more steadiness and intent.