When Invisible Inheritance Becomes Patterns
Sometimes what we call overthinking is just invisible inheritance shaping the way we live, love, avoid, and protect ourselves.
5/12/20263 min read
Today, in a conversation with other parents, the topic of different generations and their behaviours came up. And I said it casually, almost instinctively:
“We are the generation of overthinkers.”
Everyone agreed.
But later, I found myself questioning it.
Do I really believe that?
Because sometimes, we label things not to understand them, but to avoid understanding them more deeply.
Take me, for example.
I’ve always said, “I’m not used to hearing no.”
And that’s true.
But what did I actually do to make sure I never heard a “no”?
I stopped asking.
Anything that carried even the slightest possibility of rejection, I avoided.
Even as a child, I did this.
Now a 7, 10, or even 15-year-old isn’t supposed to calculate life this way. They aren’t meant to filter every desire, request, or emotion through the fear of rejection.
But I was.
So was I overthinking?
Or was I quietly protecting myself from something I didn’t even realise I feared?
And here’s the part that changed everything for me:
It wasn’t because I grew up in a suppressive or unhealthy environment.
By most standards, it was a “good” upbringing.
So where did this come from?
Not from what was said to me. But from what was felt around me.
The unspoken fears.
The hesitation.
The invisible calculations adults carry every day.
I didn’t learn rejection by experiencing it. I learned it by absorbing the fear of it.
And because of that fear, I missed out on so many things I might have otherwise experienced.
Moments in relationships, because I wasn’t ready to ask for what I needed.
Opportunities at work, because even the possibility of hearing “no” felt unbearable.
Over time, I became someone who “does everything alone.”
Someone who doesn’t need anyone. At least, that’s how it looked.
But what that also meant was,
I missed having someone to confide in.
Someone to turn to when things felt heavy.
Someone who could simply listen for a little while when I needed a pause.
I had convinced myself I was strong.
But in reality, I had become unavailable, to others, and to myself.
After years of living this way unknowingly, and then slowly understanding how deep these patterns ran, I tried something different.
I asked for something small at work.
And I got it.
It should have felt ordinary. But it didn’t.
I felt relieved.
Emotional.
Almost confused.
Because if it had always been this possible, what had I been protecting myself from all along?
Then I tried the same in a relationship.
And it created discomfort. Misunderstanding.
A strong pull to return to my old ways:
to stop asking,
to stay quiet,
to remain “easy.”
And in that moment, I realised something else:
It’s not just about learning to ask.
It’s about learning to stay, even when the response isn’t what you hoped for.
And for the first time, instead of retreating, I reached out. I asked a friend for help.
Not for solutions.
Not for answers.
Just for someone to listen.
And she did.
Just enough for me to pause.
Just enough for me not to disappear back into myself.
Just enough for me to try again the next time.
So when we call ourselves “overthinkers,” we may be oversimplifying something much deeper.
Because these aren’t just thoughts.
They are experiences, some ours, some borrowed.
They are fears, some lived, some absorbed.
They are patterns, quietly shaping our choices, our relationships, and our future.
And while understanding the past matters, living in it doesn’t heal anything.
At the same time, ignoring it only ensures we repeat it.
The balance lies somewhere in between:
Acknowledge what shaped you.
Question what you’re carrying.
And consciously choose what you want to pass on.
Because whether we realise it or not, we are not just living our lives.
We are shaping someone else’s.