A couple of years ago, in a moment of shocking self-awareness, I realized I had a habit of always over-explaining myself. It makes sense because I’m a world class people pleaser and overthinker, and why wouldn’t an overthinker be an over-explainer, right? I’m so good that I even overthink about overthinking. If they handed out metals for overthinking my chest would look like an Army General’s.
My best hours of overthinking are between 2- 5am when my “thunker” is in full overdrive. Sometimes I’m surprised my night time brain doesn’t just explode, burst into flames, leaving smoke to come out my ears. If it did, it would probably be a relief until I started overthinking about my brain exploding from overthinking.
People pleasers (raise your hands here), after we’ve overthought something to death then we like to over-explain it until its dismembered. Our decisions for our decisions, our long detailed reasons behind every nuance of our thought process, the pros and cons, the front and the back of the issue, our every possible consideration for an outcome and YOUR consideration for an outcome are all part of the process. Its really important to us people-pleasing-over-thinkers that we explain ourselves so as not to leave you with any reason to doubt us or to think we aren’t likable. We have it in our mental pantry of ideas that if we express our needs, and you don’t like them, you won’t like us. Somewhere in our life we learned we were responsible for the emotions of others and that having everyone around us comfortable meant we were safe and lovable.
And guess what? It doesn’t. And we aren’t.
People either love you or they don’t. They either value your place in their life or they don’t, but overthinking and over-explaining yourself isn’t a consideration.
In fact, I would dare to say that over-explaining makes people value you less, because it shows them that you care more about their feelings and needs than you do your own and if you aren’t going to care about your needs, why should they?
It took six decades of life for me to figure this out.
Six decades of me saying “that’s fine,” and “no worries” to realize that they never cared if I thought it was fine to begin with. They were counting on me not having the self-worth required to acknowledge my needs, because lets face it, a person with no expressed needs or boundaries is an easy person to keep around.
One time I shared with someone that I needed a little time and space, temporarily, to sort some things out in my life and their response was “that’s bullshit.”
Normally that would make me go into a tail spin of over-explaining, trying to make them feel better and apologizing for my needs inconveniencing them but instead I realized what they were telling me: My needs had become meaningless to them and our relationship was over. I had been aware of it for a long time, but didn’t want to admit it to myself. It had been a slow drip of feeling insignificant and efforts not being returned along with feeling my emotional balance disturbed constantly. That person was no longer safe for me.
Years before that happened I wouldn’t have even told this person that I needed space. I wouldn’t have wanted to bother them with my struggles of cancer and divorce in my family life and how I was overwhelmed with it all and needed some short term retreat, but I felt brave enough to be vulnerable.
“Vulnerability is the most accurate measure of courage,” says author Brene Brown.
Why? Because it’s hard and uncomfortable and someone you show yours to could call it bullshit. Showing vulnerability is like petting a strange dog. You either get a tail wag and a warm lick or a bite on the hand.
I knew what I could say, what I wanted to say, or I could just let them think it was bullshit. Me knowing my truth that nothing about me was bullshit, had to be enough. Me knowing that my needs did matter, and that wanting space to be quiet in my head for a bit without any additional emotional demands was acceptable, it was self-honoring really. I had done nothing wrong, I just wasn’t significant to this person anymore.
Dang, vulnerability really sucks sometimes.
But I was proud of the new me. I’d experienced a glow-up. No over-explaining or trying to make it better or apologizing just to keep the peace when I had done nothing wrong to begin with. The old me would have done all that plus rolled over belly up in a show of submission just to hold onto this person who was mad because I was no longer compliant in the way I had been.
People pleasers don’t like to give up on people. It’s one of our greatest and worst attributes. We will often stay in unhealthy relationships much longer that we should. We’re big on giving people multiple chances—years and years of wasting time giving chances in some instances.
“They didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“They’re really a nice person.”
“They’re just stressed”…tired, hungry, unhappy or any emotion we can excuse them with.
“But I love them.”
Those are all lyrics to the hit tune “Benefit Of The Doubt,” us people pleasers like to sing in our heads.
People pleasers often blame our own behavior patterns as the problem. We walk around thinking that if we love them more, chase them—they will choose us back. If we are overly generous they will be so grateful as to love us just for our kindness. We over-explain to feel seen and understood. We stay because we want to believe in them, and we don’t want to hurt them. We shrink ourselves to keep the peace and call it love. And then when none of that works, when we’re exhausted from it all and we have nothing left, it can feel like we failed.
The truth is our softness is not the problem.
Asking for what we want and deserve will always offend someone who never intended to honor us in the first place. They want us to feel guilty because it keeps us in our place of insignificance and them from having to put forth any effort. People pleasers are easier kept on the sidelines because we are always ready to overplay our parts in other people’s lives when we’re called on, and in the meantime we’ll just keep eating the breadcrumbs tossed to us.
We are afraid of the unknown, of what people will think of us, but we have to let people misunderstand us if we’re ever going to be whole. We have to let them have their own narratives, opinions and tell the stories that are self-serving and go on their way without us if we are ever to feel peace. Let them paint us any shade they want while knowing that as big hearted people pleasers we were loving and full of grace toward them.
No amount of bullshit can change that.