A Few Thoughts on Overthinking, Intuition, and Learning to Trust Ourselves Again
Getting unstuck
The Second Act is a weekly newsletter packed with obsessively-curated recommendations and ideas—let’s get to it!
📺 “No Good Deed” on Netflix: The house at the heart of this new series, starring Lisa Kudrow and Ray Romano, felt instantly recognizable as one of those picture-perfect, jasmine-trellised Spanish-style homes in Larchmont or Hancock Park. It’s a dream house, worth blackmailing for, which is exactly the implication in this star-studded new dramedy, that feels, in tone, like a cross between “White Lotus” and “The Afterparty.”
📚 I’ll Come to You by Rebecca Kauffman: Family secrets and disappointments converge in this new novel, set in the Midwest in the ‘90s. Ellen is recently divorced and disappointed with dating, her son Paul and his wife Corinne are struggling to get pregnant, and Corinne’s family have their own suite of issues. Compassionately told, with characters that will stick with you.
🎧 “The Good Whale” Podcast: On the heels of the ‘Free Willy’ movie, people began to call for the “actor” who played Willy, an Orca named Keiko living in an amusement park in Mexico City, to be released in the wild. What followed was an experiment in animal welfare, when a captive animal was finally released to the wild.
Overthinking is a delicious way to procrastinate. When we’re doing it, we’re in denial that we’re procrastinating. We’re too busy thinking to identify with the stigma of being “lazy”
or “afraid.” We focus on things with little consequence while avoiding the things
with real consequences.
We love a trend forecast, don’t we? What’s in, what’s next. I do too. I love feeling the pulse of what’s shifting creatively—what’s catching fire, what’s quietly taking root. There’s something deeply satisfying about noticing the collective lean before everyone else has named it. It’s like a little internal nudge that says, “Hey, pay attention. Something’s moving here.”
I’ve always had that little nudge. Even as a kid, I could feel what was about to take off. I was the girl in sixth grade who somehow knew everyone was about to become obsessed with peace frogs and tie-dye. It wasn’t strategic—it was intuitive.
And intuition is just that: a deep knowing, one that doesn’t need to be explained or proven. It’s a muscle. A compass. A whisper. It doesn’t come when forced, and it disappears if you try to chase it too hard.
I lost mine for a while.
From 2017 to 2020, I was swimming in stress and second-guessing. That quiet creative hum that used to guide me just… went silent. I tried to fix it, force it, think my way back to it. But all that did was make the noise louder. Everyone else’s opinions, ideas, voices—turned up to full volume. Mine got buried.
I forgot what my own “yes” sounded like.
And when you’re caught in that spiral, it’s easy to confuse overthinking for productivity. You tell yourself you’re being careful, being thoughtful, being smart. But really, you’re just frozen. I say this with love because I’ve been there: overthinking is often just another form of self-doubt.
And self-doubt doesn’t make good art. It doesn’t make brave choices. It doesn’t help us live well.
So lately, I’ve been trying something different. I’ve been moving slower. Trusting smaller instincts. Choosing the next right thing—not the perfect thing, not the “what will people think” thing. Just the next thing. One step. One tweak. One idea followed through.
And guess what? That’s where intuition lives. In the small, quiet steps that build trust.
Here’s what I’m learning about tuning back in:
Overthinking is just a pause button dressed up in self-doubt.
It feels busy, but it’s often keeping us stuck. We spin in circles looking for the “perfect” option and avoid making any choice at all. Overthinking is a delicious way to procrastinate. When we’re doing it, we’re in denial that we’re procrastinating. We’re too busy thinking to identify with the stigma of being “lazy” or “afraid.” We focus on things with little consequence while avoiding the things with real consequences.
Intuition is not impulse.
Impulse is reactive. Intuition is gentle but steady. You’ll know the difference because one comes with panic, the other with peace (even if the decision is still scary).
You can start anywhere.
Pick the paint color. Rearrange the furniture. Wear the outfit that feels a little bolder than usual. Call it “play” if “intuition” feels too serious. The point is to make a move.
Go slow.
This is a big one. Intuition needs space to breathe. When you’re rushing or outsourcing every opinion, you can’t hear it. Let things unfold. Let your style evolve. Your home, your wardrobe, your taste—none of it is meant to be static.
Protect the little sparks.
If you love it—even if it’s quirky, even if it’s not what’s trending—love it out loud. Say “this makes me happy.” That’s a powerful thing. That’s intuition, too.
Watching My Kids Helps Me Remember This
Josie makes magic out of cereal boxes and glitter glue. Her creativity isn’t measured. It isn’t for show. It just is. That’s the energy I want to bring back into my life and work. Less pressure, more play. Less seeking approval, more seeking joy.
Even decorating our spaces—yes, even that—is a place we can practice trusting ourselves. What color feels good? What arrangement sparks something in you? That’s all that really matters. You get to change your mind. You get to make mistakes. You get to try again.
The Future I’m Craving? It’s Slower. More Expressive. More Honest.
I think the most exciting “trend” ahead is a return to self-trust. To doing more with less. To getting quiet enough to hear the little voice that says this—this color, this rhythm, this yes—is yours.
That’s what I want more of.
That’s what I’m building here.
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