“Next time she says that, I’ll tell her…”
“If my manager brings it up again, I’ll explain…”
“Maybe I should say it this way instead…”
“What if they think I’m being rude?”
If you’ve ever spent an entire shower, commute, dog walk, or sleepless night having a conversation that never actually happened, you’re in good company.
Many of us rehearse conversations in our heads. We imagine what we will say, what the other person might say, and what we should say next. Sometimes we are preparing for an important meeting. Sometimes we are replaying an awkward social interaction from three days ago. Sometimes we are arguing with someone who has absolutely no idea they are currently starring in a full-length mental drama taking place inside our heads.
While this experience is common, many neurodivergent people describe doing it so often that it becomes exhausting. They find themselves rehearsing conversations before they happen, replaying them after they happen, and occasionally continuing conversations that never happened at all.
For years, I assumed this was simply anxiety.
Many of my coaching clients thought the same.
But after working with hundreds of neurodivergent adults and reflecting on my own experience as a woman with ADHD, I’ve come to believe there is usually something deeper happening.
The question isn’t really:
“Why do I overthink conversations?”
The more interesting question is:
“What is my brain trying to achieve by doing this?”
And once you understand the answer, this strange habit starts to make a lot more sense.
More Than Just Overthinking
People often dismiss conversation rehearsal as overthinking.
“You’re worrying too much.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Just stop thinking about it.”
If only it were that simple. Most of the time, the brain isn’t rehearsing conversations because it enjoys creating stress. Quite the opposite.
It is usually trying to create safety.
Imagine you’re about to have a difficult conversation with a colleague. Your brain immediately starts running simulations. What if they misunderstand me? What if I forget something important? What if I become emotional? What if they think I’m incompetent? What if I explain it badly?
The brain starts creating possible scenarios and preparing responses to each one. From the outside, it looks irrational. From the brain’s perspective, it looks like excellent preparation.
The problem is that life doesn’t come with a script.
The brain keeps preparing because it believes that if it thinks hard enough, it can remove uncertainty altogether.
Unfortunately, uncertainty is exactly what conversations are made of.
A Lifetime of Being Misunderstood
One reason many neurodivergent people become expert conversation rehearsers is that they have often spent years feeling misunderstood. Perhaps you were told you talked too much. Or not enough. Maybe you were described as rude when you thought you were being honest. Too emotional when you were simply overwhelmed. Lazy when you were struggling with executive functioning. Disorganised when you were trying harder than everyone around you realised.
Over time, these experiences leave an impression.
The brain begins to expect misunderstanding.
Not because it is pessimistic.
Because it has evidence.
Lots of evidence.
If you’ve spent years explaining yourself, defending yourself, or correcting assumptions about your intentions, it makes sense that your brain would start preparing in advance.
Many neurodivergent adults aren’t rehearsing conversations because they are socially awkward. They are rehearsing because they desperately want to get it right. They want to communicate clearly. They want to avoid conflict. They want to be understood.
And perhaps most importantly, they want to avoid the familiar pain of walking away from a conversation thinking:
“That’s not what I meant at all.”
The Internal Lawyer
I often think of this process as carrying around an internal lawyer. Some people have a helpful inner voice that says: “You’ll figure it out.” Others seem to have a lawyer constantly preparing a defence case.
The lawyer gathers evidence.
Reasons why you were late. Reasons why you forgot. Reasons why you need support. Reasons why you reacted emotionally. Reasons why your behaviour makes sense.
The lawyer is always ready for cross-examination.
The challenge is that the trial often never takes place. Nobody is accusing you. Nobody is demanding an explanation.
Yet the lawyer keeps preparing.
Many neurodivergent people become so accustomed to defending themselves that they continue doing it even when nobody has asked them to.
This often shows up as overexplaining.
You answer a simple question with a five-minute explanation. You justify decisions nobody challenged. You provide context nobody requested.
Not because you enjoy talking.
Because somewhere inside, you’re expecting the misunderstanding that used to follow.
Why ADHD Can Turn One Conversation Into Twenty
ADHD adds another layer to this experience. The ADHD brain is brilliant at generating possibilities. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always know when to stop.
One future conversation quickly becomes multiple versions of the same conversation.
Version one: they’re understanding.
Version two: they’re annoyed.
Version three: they’re confused.
Version four: they’re angry.
Version five: they’ve misunderstood everything.
Suddenly, you’re preparing for twenty conversations instead of one. The brain keeps opening new tabs. Each possibility creates another branch. Another scenario. Another response to prepare.
What started as planning slowly becomes mental looping. Hours later, you’re still discussing a conversation that hasn’t happened.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not broken or wrong. You simply have a brain that is exceptionally good at exploring possibilities.
The challenge is that possibilities are infinite. Reality is not.
Why Autism Can Make Rehearsing Feel Necessary
For many autistic people, rehearsing conversations serves a different purpose. It isn’t always about worry. Sometimes it’s about preparation. Social situations can feel unpredictable. Unlike written instructions or structured tasks, conversations often involve hidden expectations, subtle cues, and rapidly changing dynamics. Rehearsing can help reduce uncertainty. It creates a sense of readiness.
Many autistic people describe mentally scripting conversations before making a phone call, attending a meeting, or discussing something important.
This isn’t necessarily unhealthy. In fact, it can be an effective coping strategy.
Problems arise when preparation becomes impossible to finish. When the brain starts searching for the perfect script. The perfect explanation. The perfect response.
Because perfection never arrives, the rehearsal continues.
And continues.
And continues.
Sometimes It’s Not About the Future at All
At this point, you might be thinking: “That explains why I rehearse future conversations. But what about the ones I keep replaying from years ago?” That’s where things become even more interesting. Because not all rehearsed conversations are about the future.
Some are about the past. Many neurodivergent adults carry around conversations they never quite finished. Perhaps it was a meeting where you froze and couldn’t find the words. A friendship that ended abruptly. A teacher who labelled you lazy. A parent who misunderstood your struggles. A partner who dismissed your feelings.
Years later, the brain is still editing the script. Still searching for better words. Still trying to explain what it couldn’t explain at the time. When people describe replaying old conversations, they often assume they are “stuck” or “obsessing.”
Sometimes that’s true. But often something else is happening. The brain is trying to create closure. It is trying to resolve something that never felt resolved. It is trying to make sense of an experience that still doesn’t quite fit. In other words, the conversation isn’t unfinished because you haven’t found the perfect comeback.
It’s unfinished because the emotional experience itself never fully settled.
The Conversations We Wish We’d Had
If you’ve ever found yourself mentally revisiting an old argument and suddenly delivering the perfect response five years too late, welcome to the club. Most of us have done it. The strange thing is that these imaginary conversations often feel incredibly important.
The person involved may have moved on long ago. They may not even remember the interaction. Yet our brains continue returning to it.
Why?
Because many neurodivergent people process experiences deeply. Comments that other people dismiss can linger. Misunderstandings can feel painful. Rejection can feel enormous. Moments of embarrassment can remain vivid years later.
Sometimes the conversation isn’t really about the conversation at all. It’s about what it represented. Being dismissed. Being criticised. Feeling different. Feeling excluded. Feeling unseen.
The brain returns because it is still trying to answer a deeper question:
“Why did that hurt so much?”
And perhaps even: “Was there something wrong with me?”
The Cost of Living in Imaginary Conversations
Although rehearsing conversations often begins as a self-protective strategy, it can become surprisingly expensive. Not financially expensive. Emotionally expensive. Mentally expensive. Energetically expensive.
Every minute spent arguing with an imaginary version of your boss is a minute of real energy. Every hour spent replaying a social interaction is an hour your nervous system believes it is dealing with a real problem. The brain does not always distinguish between what is happening and what is being vividly imagined.
That is why rehearsed conversations can feel exhausting.
You may finish an evening feeling emotionally drained despite spending most of it alone. Your brain has effectively attended multiple meetings, defended several court cases, survived three awkward social encounters, and resolved an argument that never happened.
No wonder you’re tired. The impact can also spill into relationships. Sometimes we become upset with people based on conversations we’ve imagined rather than conversations we’ve actually had. We begin reacting to predictions rather than reality. We assume we know how someone will respond. We become anxious about scenarios that exist only in our heads.
Ironically, the strategy designed to protect us from discomfort can sometimes create more discomfort.
When Preparation Becomes Rumination
Of course, not all conversation rehearsal is unhealthy. Preparing for important conversations is a normal and often helpful part of life. Most people benefit from thinking through how they want to approach a difficult discussion.
The challenge comes when preparation quietly transforms into rumination. The difference is subtle but important. Preparation moves you closer to action. Rumination keeps you stuck in thought. Preparation helps you identify your main message. Rumination tries to predict every possible outcome. Preparation creates clarity. Rumination creates exhaustion.
One useful question to ask yourself is: “Am I getting ready for this conversation, or am I trying to eliminate all uncertainty before I have it?”
Because that second goal is impossible.
No amount of preparation can guarantee how another person will think, feel, or respond. Many neurodivergent people unknowingly set themselves an impossible task. They believe they need to find exactly the right words before they can speak. Exactly the right explanation before they can ask for help. Exactly the right argument before they can set a boundary.
The problem is that certainty never arrives.
Eventually, we have to trust ourselves to handle the conversation in real time.
How to Break the Loop
If you recognise yourself in this article, the goal isn’t necessarily to stop rehearsing conversations completely. In many situations, rehearsal can be helpful. The goal is to stop getting trapped there.
One strategy I often share with coaching clients is to focus on your message rather than your script. Instead of trying to predict every possible response, ask yourself: “What is the most important thing I want this person to understand?”
That shifts your attention away from controlling the conversation and towards communicating clearly.
Another helpful approach is noticing what fear sits underneath the rehearsal. Often it isn’t really about the conversation. It is about something deeper. The fear of rejection. The fear of conflict. The fear of disappointing someone. The fear of being misunderstood again.
When we identify the real fear, the endless rehearsing often starts to make more sense. And perhaps most importantly, remind yourself that conversations are not performances.
You do not need a flawless script.
You do not need perfect wording.
You do not need to anticipate every possible outcome.
You only need enough trust in yourself to show up and respond to whatever happens next.
Final Thoughts
Many neurodivergent people spend years believing there is something wrong with them because they rehearse conversations so often. In reality, this habit frequently develops for understandable reasons. It grows out of a desire to communicate clearly. To avoid mistakes. To feel safe. To be understood. To protect ourselves from experiences that have hurt before.
The problem is not that your brain wants certainty. The problem is that certainty is something no human being can ever fully achieve.
Conversations are messy. Relationships are unpredictable. Misunderstandings happen.
No amount of rehearsal can completely remove that reality. But perhaps there is something reassuring in that.
Because the goal was never to become perfectly prepared.
The goal was always connection.
And connection doesn’t come from having the perfect script.
It comes from being willing to show up, imperfectly, and have the conversation anyway.
Read from University of Oxford: NEUROINCLUSIVE COMMUNICATIONS
GUIDE
Dana Dzamic
Neurodiversity consultant and ADHD coach
Founder of ADHD Insight Hub