Rumination?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wondered about the floating, argumentative thoughts that run through my mind. At times, I find myself arguing in my head with someone who can’t hear a word I’m thinking and will never know the conversation even happened. For a long time, I didn’t understand what these thoughts were or why they were there.

They weren’t always present — or if they were, I didn’t pay them much attention. But with age, I’ve become more aware of them. At first, I wasn’t curious about the science behind it. I assumed I was simply upset, and that these thoughts were just what happens when emotions linger. Arguing with someone in your head. Replaying conversations. Thinking, why couldn’t I have thought of that then? Wishing you’d landed the punchline at the right moment so it wouldn’t still be circling your mind — keeping you awake at night and greeting you again the moment you open your eyes.

One day, I decided to look deeper into what these thoughts might be. I was afraid to even Google the symptoms, convinced it meant something was wrong with me. I remember thinking, Isn’t it kind of off to be arguing with… no one? I felt like I couldn’t keep replaying conversations that no longer existed.

What I discovered surprised me. What I was experiencing had a name: rumination. I learned that this is often how the human brain responds to ambiguity and emotional unpredictability.

What stood out to me most was not the definition itself, but what triggers it. Rumination doesn’t come from conflict alone — it comes from uncertainty. From unanswered questions. From emotional starts and stops. From moments where the mind is left trying to finish something that never fully landed.

The brain doesn’t like loose ends. When communication is unclear or inconsistent, it keeps circling back, searching for meaning, resolution, or reassurance. Not because we are weak, but because we are wired to make sense of what feels unfinished.

That’s how a single moment can quietly steal hours of peace. Nothing dramatic happens on the outside, yet internally, the mind is busy revisiting conversations, tone, timing — wondering what was meant, what should have been said, or what might happen next.

Rumination isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It slips in subtly, disguising itself as “thinking things through,” when in reality, it’s the body asking for safety where there is ambiguity.

After all the research and finally understanding what I was feeling, I knew one thing for sure — I didn’t like it. The next step was finding a way of escape. I believed there had to be one.

I wasn’t in physical pain. What I felt was different. It was intrusive. Annoying. Like the lyrics to a song stuck in your head on repeat, playing whether you want it to or not. It felt as if my mind had a mind of its own.

Once I could name what was happening, I realized I wasn’t powerless. Awareness didn’t stop the thoughts immediately, but it gave me something I didn’t have before — a choice.

I began to notice when my mind slipped into replay mode. Instead of arguing back or trying to “win” imaginary conversations, I practiced stepping out of them. Sometimes that meant redirecting my attention. Sometimes it meant grounding myself in what was actually happening in front of me. And sometimes it meant simply reminding myself: this thought doesn’t need my participation.

The escape wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t instant. But it was real. Each time I chose not to engage, the loop loosened its grip. Slowly, my mind learned that not every unanswered question required an answer, and not every moment of uncertainty needed to be solved.

Peace, I learned, isn’t found in finishing every thought. Sometimes it’s found in letting them pass.

-ToniRay