Rumination is a specific flavor of overthinking. It's not planning, not problem-solving, not even worrying about the future. It's replaying. The same conversation, same mistake, same moment of embarrassment — but from slightly different angles, each rotation hoping to land on the version where it makes sense or you come out okay.

It doesn't work. That's the part that's genuinely hard to accept. The replaying doesn't help you process it — it just keeps it warm. Like leaving a stove on under something that's already cooked. Nothing new happens. The thought just stays hot.

The loop usually starts with something that felt like a threat to how you see yourself. If you're someone who values being competent and you said something that sounded uninformed, the rumination isn't about the comment — it's about what that comment might mean about who you are. The brain is trying to adjudicate a case about your character, and it keeps calling witnesses that never give a clean verdict.

What sometimes interrupts it: changing the physical context. Literally moving — going outside, putting music on, doing something that requires your hands. The loop needs a quiet, stationary brain to keep running. Movement disrupts it, not forever, but enough.

Also helpful: naming what the loop is actually trying to protect. Usually it's something like "I want to know I'm still okay." That's valid. You can answer that directly: you are still okay. The moment you keep replaying does not define you.