Overthinking isn't a character flaw and it isn't a disorder. It's a loop. A thought shows up, you grab it, it pulls another, and twenty minutes later you're re-running a conversation from 2019. The loop feels like thinking. It isn't. Thinking gets somewhere. This just circles.
Here's the part nobody tells you: you are not the voice in your head. You're the one listening to it. That gap — between you and the narration — is the whole exit. The moment you notice the voice instead of believing it, the grip loosens. You don't have to fight it or empty your mind. You just stop taking dictation.
Three things that actually quiet it: (1) Name it — 'that's the loop' — out loud if you have to; naming breaks the spell. (2) Drop into the body — feet on the floor, one slow breath; the loop lives in the head, the exit is below it. (3) Ask the loop one question: 'is this solving anything, or just spinning?' If it's spinning, you're allowed to put it down.
None of this is about becoming a calm person who never thinks. It's about no longer believing everything the voice says. The noise was never you. That's the whole move.
Get out of your head and into your body — feet, breath, the weight of you on the bed. The loop runs on attention; pull attention down to the body and it starves. Name it ('that's the loop'), and let the unsolved thing wait until morning. It'll still be there, and you'll meet it rested.