Why Survivors of Emotional Abuse Tend to Over-Explain Everything (and How to Stop)
Question:
“Dear Darah,
I’m hoping you can help me understand something about myself. I left a difficult and emotionally unhealthy marriage a while ago, and ever since then I’ve noticed that I over-explain everything—to my friends, coworkers, even the cashier at the grocery store! I add long backstories to simple requests. I worry about being misunderstood, so I overthink every conversation. I apologize for things that don’t need apologizing. Even in safe relationships, I still feel anxious that I’m going to say something wrong or unclear, so I end up talking in circles.
I don’t see other people doing this, and I’m starting to wonder if this is connected to what I lived through. Why do I feel the need to explain myself so much? And how can I learn to communicate more simply and confidently?”
Answer:
First, thank you for asking this so honestly. The way you’ve put your experience into words tells me you’re already thinking clearly—probably more clearly than you realize. Your awareness is a significant first step toward healing.
The fact that you are noticing these patterns is a good sign and likely means you are finally in an environment safe enough to recognize what emotional survival has cost you. That’s a sign of awakening to the truth of your lived experiences.
Many women who have come out of unsafe or unsustainable relationships experience the same struggle, and they may assume it means they’re flawed or socially awkward. In reality, over-explaining is usually a sign of what you’ve lived through, not who you are. It can become a form of people-pleasing to keep the peace.
For many who have lived through the dysfunction of a destructive relationship, their communication habits didn’t form out of character growth—they formed out of protection. In these situations, over-explaining is not a quirk you randomly developed; it’s likely a strategy your nervous system created to keep you safe in an unsafe relationship.
Over-Explaining as a Survival Skill
When we’ve been in a harmful, narcissistic, or abusive relationship, we learn to use far more words than necessary because our words were regularly dismissed, twisted, or used against us. When no one hears us, we naturally speak more, hoping to be understood.
And when you’ve spent years trying to communicate with someone who has no intention of understanding you or reacts with anger to your needs, it’s natural to believe you must defend, clarify, soften, or justify everything you say. Your brain learns to work overtime.
Often, this form of verbal “egg shell walking,” has been what kept you safe or helped you to avoid soul-exhausting arguments. You begin to believe that if you can explain well enough—softly enough, thoroughly enough—you might prevent the explosion, confusion, or blame. What feels burdensome today once served a purpose: emotional safety. And if gaslighting is present, the confusion deepens. You don’t just explain to be understood—you explain to reassure yourself that what you think and remember is real. That’s a heavy burden to carry.
To your nervous system, over-explaining becomes a shield. And shields are heavy.
Somewhere along the line your nervous system concluded, “If I can just say this the right way, maybe it won’t be used against me.”
Now, I think it’s also important for others reading this to know that some of us respond to similar patterns of dismissal or abuse by withdrawing instead—silence can become someone else’s nervous system response and a way of staying safe, just as over-explaining does for others.
When Words Aren’t Heard
You may notice this in the small things—writing long texts that were meant to be short, rehearsing conversations before they happen, or apologizing for “talking too much.” What looks like overthinking is often the residue of prolonged emotional tension. Your mind and body are simply accustomed to working harder than other people’s minds and bodies do when it comes to communication.
Years ago, my family lived far out in the country and our cell reception was terrible. I tried everything: standing by the window, stepping onto the porch, even braving the cold or rain if the call was important. Still, most conversations were a string of awkward interruptions: “I didn’t catch that—could you repeat it?” Over time, I stopped waiting for the request. I just began repeating myself automatically.
What surprised me was how that habit followed me into in-person conversations. Even when someone was standing right in front of me, I found myself speaking as though “my reception” was still poor. My mind had memorized what it felt like not to be heard and memorized my responses. That’s exactly what emotionally destructive relationships do. They train you to expect misunderstanding.
You try to express a need and are met with irritation or confusion. Or your spouse listens just long enough to twist your words into something you didn’t say. After enough of these moments, the simplest communication begins to feel complicated.
It’s important to note here that over-explaining doesn’t only come from our romantic relationships. Childhood wounds—growing up with emotionally neglectful, dismissive, or narcissistic parents—can create the same survival patterns.If you experienced patterns of siblings, close friends, or even bosses or teachers who consistently dismissed or invalidated your thoughts and feelings throughout your life, it can train your nervous system to over-communicate in an effort to be heard or ‘get it right.’ Over time, your mind and body learn to respond this way automatically—even long after those relationships have ended.
The truth is, any important relationship where your words were twisted, ignored, or met with anger can leave behind these communication habits. Your nervous system learned to protect you, and now it carries those lessons forward—long after the unsafe people are gone.
You mentioned noticing this even in “safe” relationships. That makes perfect sense. Your body hasn’t yet recognized that the war is over. It’s still responding to today as though yesterday were happening now.
Carrying Old Patterns Into New Spaces
Over time, those old patterns create communication habits that you carry everywhere, even into healthier spaces. Talking “too long,” apologizing too much, adding disclaimers to everything, or struggling to say a clean yes or no are not communication problems—they’re trauma imprints.
These reactions are common and understandable. They are not indicators of incompetence; they are indicators of what you’ve had to survive.
The good news is that patterns can change. Survival skills can be unlearned once safety exists. And those old survival patterns can become growth patterns.
Reconnecting With Yourself
Healing begins by slowly reconnecting with yourself. Women who live in abusive systems often become experts at discerning someone else’s moods and needs while losing sight of their own needs, preferences, and internal cues. They’ve spent years adjusting themselves to someone else’s mood or expectations, so when they try to speak for themselves, the words feel foreign.
This is why self-awareness is the first step. Before communication can become clear, you must become clear to yourself. You can’t communicate clearly if you no longer know what you think or need. Self-awareness isn’t selfish. It is the foundation of healthy communication.
What matters to you? What do you actually need? What feels right, and what feels wrong? Giving attention to these things is not selfish—it’s essential.
Practicing Clear, Kind Communication
Once you begin to regain that clarity, you can practice expressing it in small, low-stakes situations. Ask the waiter for what you actually want. Tell a customer service representative what you’re calling about without apologizing first. Share a preference with a friend. These small moments help retrain your nervous system to trust that direct communication can be safe.
Will it feel uncomfortable? Almost certainly. But don’t mistake discomfort for danger. Often, discomfort is simply the sensation of doing something new and foreign to us.
As Christian women, we’re often taught that softness equals godliness, and directness equals harshness. But Scripture paints a different picture. Paul urges us to “speak the truth in love,” not in fear (Ephesians 4:15). Jesus instructs us to let our “yes” be yes and our “no” be no—clean, simple, and honest (Matthew 5:37). Zechariah calls us to truthful communication, not tangled explanations (Zechariah 8:16).
Directness and clarity are not contrary to kindness; they are a part of it.
In time, as you practice—you’ll begin to notice a shift. Fewer apologies. Shorter explanations. More confidence in your own thoughts and words. Not because you’ve become harder or more harsh, but because you’re becoming healthier.
Healing doesn’t erase the past, but it does give you new choices. You no longer have to communicate as though every conversation will be misunderstood or turned against you. You can learn to speak clearly and lovingly, trusting that your words deserve to land somewhere safe.
And in time, you’ll discover that the problem was never your ability to communicate. It was the environment in which your communication had to survive.
Darah Ashlie
Darah Ashlie is an author, speaker, and coach with a heart to share the wisdom God has given her through years of walking alongside women in life’s messiest places. She writes with compassion and clarity from her own healing journey and comes alongside women ready to reclaim their voice, rebuild their lives, and live in the freedom God intended. Connect with her at https://www.youtube.com/@darahashlie or on social media @DarahAshlie.