Why you can’t stop explaining yourself (and what it’s really about)
From over explaining to speaking simply, without guilt
Have you ever found yourself justifying something, maybe a decision, a boundary, a “no”, long after the conversation has ended?
You replay what you said in your head, reword it, overthink it, wonder whether it came across okay. Or maybe in the moment, you just keep talking, adding context, offering reassurance, softening your truth by saying things like ‘I hope that’s alright?’ or ‘I really hate the thought of letting you down’?
It’s not that you’re being unclear. It’s that you are trying to buy safety. And it’s not about giving information, but about managing how someone is perceiving you.
I remember so very clearly, about 12 years ago when I worked in an office environment. My colleague asked another colleague whether he could step in and help out an an even that evening. He said these words warmly, with a smile on his face ‘I can’t this time’. That was the conversation…over. I was both confused by and in awe of the distinct lack of a cascade of excuses and sorries that would have been paired with my ‘I can’t this time’. That moment stuck with me and drew my attention to my habit of giving 1,000 reasons as to my ‘no’.
Over explaining is a fear response, not a flaw
It’s really interesting to recognise that the impulse to overexplain is usually fuelled by fear. Fear of being misunderstood, or of seeming selfish, rude, or ungrateful. Fear that if we don’t explain enough, we might not be enough somehow, or that someone will withdraw their affection, respect, or understanding. The words tumble out in an effort to patch over the discomfort, whether they’re required or not.
From a psychological perspective, over explaining is a form of self-protection. It can be a deeply ingrained response, especially for those of us who grew up in environments where being liked, agreeable or compliant kept things smooth. Maybe you learned early on that your needs had to be carefully packaged to be heard, or that setting a boundary required a long list of justifications to be accepted. Maybe you learned that it was safer to appease than to risk rupture. And over time, that habit became part of your nervous system’s automatic playbook.
The fawn response in disguise
This is often what we call the ‘fawn’ response…which is one of the lesser-known trauma responses, alongside the more familiar fight, flight and freeze.
Fawning is essentially appeasement. It’s the strategy of staying small, soft and agreeable just to keep connection intact and to avoid disappointment. It works temporarily. It smooths over tension. It creates the illusion of control. It also tries to negate the possibility of any pushback, because if we give all of the reasons why we can’t do something, then there isn’t space to demand or push the boundary.
However, when we do this it also reinforces the belief that we have to dress up the truth to make it digestible. That your needs aren’t inherently valid unless they’re carefully cushioned and lovingly padded…and the reason is always that ‘I totally would, if I could’, rather than ‘that doesn’t feel right for me’ or ‘I don’t actually have the time or capacity to do that wholeheartedly’.
What over explaining costs us
Over time, this erodes your trust in yourself. You second-guess your instincts. You may find yourself believing that your clarity might be perceived as coldness. You wonder whether you’re allowed to say ‘no’ without the lengthy footnotes and caveats.
If you recognise this pattern, I want to say: you’re not broken, or doing life wrong. You’re just wired in a way that tried to keep you safe. But that wiring can change - wahoo! You can begin to notice the moment you start to over explain, you can learn to pause. You can soften the reflex, and let your needs be simple and clear and to the main, people can handle it and respect that.
So what actually helps?
One helpful step is to start by pausing before you add all the extras. Next time you find yourself explaining something, maybe it’s a decision, a “no,” a boundary…pause and ask yourself: do I actually need to say more? Or am I trying to manage someone else’s reaction, or soothe my own guilt? Often, we’re not adding clarity, we’re trying to make ourselves more palatable. It can be great to practice this first in emails and text messages as that pause feels a bit easier than in conversation.
Instead of layering your words with reassurance or apology, practise saying what you need to say… and then stopping. It might feel wildly uncomfortable at first. Your body might tighten, your mind might race, you might feel desperate to add all the ‘because’s. That’s your sympathetic nervous system doing its thing, trying to protect you from what you have learnt to perceive as danger. But if you can breathe through the urge to fill the silence, you’re doing something powerful: you’re teaching your body that it’s safe to speak with clarity, and you’re exploring a new narrative that says ‘I don’t have to explain everything to the n’th degree’.
The stories beneath the spiral
Another helpful approach is to check in with the stories you’re telling yourself. Often we’re not explaining because the other person needs more information, we’re doing it because we’re afraid of what they’ll think if we don’t. We might fear that we’ll be judged, thought unkind, seen as unreliable, dismissed. But those stories often stem from the past, from younger versions of ourselves who were trying to keep connection, praise, or approval by being easy and accommodating. You’re allowed to grow beyond that….and you can do so whilst being warm, kind, considerate and honest at the same time!
Rooting in your own values
You can also begin to shift your anchor. Rather than basing your sense of goodness on how others respond to you, try grounding it in your values. Are you speaking from integrity, honesty and kindness? Are you giving the clarity the context requires? If so, then it’s enough. Your peace, your decision, your boundary…they’re already valid.
Self-soothing is the skill beneath it all
And most importantly, speak gently to the part of you that wants to keep talking. The part that fears being misunderstood, or worries they’ll pull away. That part of you doesn’t need to be scolded by the internal narrative of ‘oh why did you do that AGAIN???’. No, it needs reassurance. Let it know: ‘We’re okay. They don’t have to understand every aspect of my ‘no’ this for it to be valid. We can be both honest and kind.’ That’s reparenting in action right there!
But it’s not all or nothing…
Now, all of that said, this isn’t about silencing yourself. Sometimes we want to explain, and that’s okay. Sometimes offering context is an act of care that builds trust, connection and clarity. Just start to notice the difference between explaining from fear and explaining from love. One comes from self-protection, the other comes from relationship