How to Stop Over-Explaining Your Feelings (And Finally Be Heard)

It starts small. You say what’s true. Or at least, you try - but it doesn’t land right.

The pause afterward feels too long. They squint. Tilt their head. They respond to the tone instead of the content. And suddenly you’re on your back foot, scrambling to clarify a feeling that was clear before you spoke it out loud.

So you start again. Rephrase. Add backstory. Apologize for the delivery. You pad your words with metaphors and disclaimers. You explain it six different ways—just in case the first five didn’t land. Maybe if you make it neater—less charged, less clumsy, more digestible—they’ll hear you better.

From the outside, it looks like you’re just trying to communicate - to be understood. But on the inside? You’re frantically trying to outrun the ache of being met with the blank face. The defensive shrug. The moment when you realize you’ve been understood technically—but not felt. 

So you keep going. Not to connect, but to survive the ache of not being seen.

When Explaining Yourself Becomes Self-Protection (Not Connection)

You’ve told yourself it’s thoughtful. That adding context is helpful. That being careful with your words is how you show up so well in relationships. And it’s not wrong—you are thoughtful. You are intentional. You’re good at reading the room, sensing how something might land, and adjusting on the fly. That’s a skill. It’s saved you more times than you can count.

But here’s the piece you haven’t quite figured out loud yet: You think all that explaining is for them - but it’s actually for you. Not in a selfish way—in a self-protective one. You're not just afraid they won’t understand. You’re afraid of what it will feel like if they don’t.

The blank stare. The subtle retreat. The quick change of subject that tells you they either didn’t get it—or didn’t want to.

And you’ve been there enough times that your body now responds on autopilot: Add more context. Reframe it. Explain again. Make it easier. Make it safer. Over-explaining becomes a buffer. The apology you slip in before you’ve even asked for anything. A way to say, I know this is a lot, but please don’t pull away.

You’ve convinced yourself it’s about connection. But if you slow it down, really look at what’s happening—most of the time, you’re not explaining to be close. You’re explaining to protect yourself from the fallout of not being received.

And you’ll do almost anything not to feel that again.

What You’re Actually Afraid Of (It’s Not Being Misunderstood)

You’re actually not afraid of being misunderstood. You’re afraid of being understood—and rejected anyway. Because if they don’t get it, there’s still hope. You can tweak the delivery, offer a different example, circle back and try again. You can tell yourself they just didn’t hear it the right way.

But if they do understand—if you lay it out clearly, calmly, exactly how you meant it—and they still don’t move toward you? Then what?

See, that’s your fear. Not that you’ll be too messy to understand. That you’ll be crystal clear—and too much to hold. That once you stop apologizing, softening, filtering… people might actually see you. And leave anyway.

So you explain. Not because you’re confused. Because confusion gives you cover. If the conversation goes sideways, you can point to miscommunication. 

The Problem With Needing Others to Understand

Here’s the thing though - every time you explain your feelings like a closing argument, you teach your nervous system that they’re up for debate. That your clarity only counts if someone else agrees with it. That your reality doesn’t hold weight unless it lands well.

Now, of course it feels that way—some part of you learned a long time ago that getting other people to understand was the best way to stay connected. That if someone could just see what you’re saying, then you’d finally feel grounded.  But it backfires - because the more you rely on being understood to feel validated, the more disconnected you become from your own knowing.

You don’t need permission to feel what’s real. You don’t need a witness to legitimize your experience. But when over-explaining becomes the default, you end up reinforcing the very dynamic you’re trying to escape—one where your emotional reality is always up for negotiation.

I know—that part can sting. The moment someone suggests you might be keeping yourself stuck, it’s easy to hear it as blame. But this isn’t blame. It’s ownership - the kind that sets you free.

You’re not wrong for wanting clarity. You’re not ridiculous for needing things to make sense. You’ve just been outsourcing authority to someone who doesn’t live in your body - and there’s a better way.

What to Do Instead (Speak For Your Feelings, Not From Your Fears)

If you’re ready to stop rehearsing closing arguments just to prove you’re allowed to feel what you feel...the next question becomes what to you do instead?

Stop trying to get someone else to validate what you already know.

That’s the move.

You don’t have to make them understand. You have to stand besides the part of you trying to tell her own story. Even if they remember it differently, stand by her. Even if they tell a story where she’s the one who overreacted, stand by her. Even if they never circle back. Never ask. Never get it, stand by her.

Because their different experience or perspectives don’t mean she was wrong, or that her pain was invented. Their version of the story is allowed to exist too, but it doesn’t get to erase hers. She deserves to be heard.

And here’s the real kicker: she doesn’t even have to be right.

Because being right is not a prerequisite for being loved. Or considered. Or cared about. You don’t have to wait for someone else to validate her experience before you stand beside her. You can do that. You can be the one who stays. Who listens. Who says, “I believe you. That makes sense to me.”

And that will shift everything for her. Not that they understand. But that you do.

You’re Not Too Much. You’re Just Tired of Proving You’re Not.

Now, let’s not pretend this isn’t showing up in your marriage.

Because it is—and it’s not just draining. It’s distancing. All that careful translating doesn’t bring you closer -  it builds quiet resentment. It erodes intimacy. It sets the stage for disconnection and feeling invisible to be…normal. Where years of missed moments, parallel lives, and emotional silence are dressed up as stability. 

And the solution isn’t communication tools.
It’s coming home to yourself again.

Divorce Detour is where that work lives. Not to make you louder— but to help you stop leaving yourself behind.

Other Services Offered with Good Woman Therapy

Curious to learn more about how a relationship counselor in St. Louis, MO, can offer support? Send me a message! As an IFS therapist, I love helping women and fellow therapists navigate their everyday lives with greater ease using Internal Family Systems Therapy and specialize in therapy for stress & overwhelm, inner critics, perfectionism, peacekeeping, and relationship concerns. My office is located in Ballwin, MO and I help everyday women navigate their everyday lives with greater ease by offering both in-person counseling as well as online therapy to clients throughout Creve Coeur, Ladue, Town and Country, Chesterfield, and St. Peters. I also provide online therapy Missouri -wide to clients outside the St. Louis and St. Charles County area. You can view my availability and self-schedule a free, 20-minute consultation on my consultation page.