Oversharing is often misunderstood as a lack of self-restraint or boundaries, but my therapist explained that it’s far more complex and deeply rooted in emotional dynamics within relationships. It’s a painful response, born out of feeling unseen, unheard, and neglected. For the person who overshares, it can feel less like a choice and more like a desperate attempt to be understood after feeling cornered by silence and indifference.

Oversharing as a Cry for Connection

My therapist said that oversharing frequently occurs when someone feels emotionally neglected. It’s not about wanting to overwhelm the other person but about seeking reassurance in the absence of meaningful connection. When attempts to share feelings are met with dismissal or indifference, the urge to overshare can grow stronger, it can be compared to shouting in order to be heard.

My therapist explained that women are often expected to carry the emotional labor, navigating complex feelings while ensuring harmony in their relationships. But when these efforts aren’t reciprocated, or when their emotions are dismissed, it creates a deep sense of seclusion. Oversharing, in these cases, becomes a survival mechanism—a way to bridge the gap and demand the care they deserve.

The Pain of Feeling Cornered

My therapist described the act of oversharing as something that often feels forced, not voluntary. It’s what happens when someone feels pushed into a corner emotionally, with no one willing to truly hear or understand them. The oversharer might feel as though they’ve tried everything else—subtle expressions, measured communication, patience—only to be ignored or misunderstood time and again.

When this happens, oversharing becomes a last resort, a way of saying, “Please see me, please understand how much I’m struggling.” But instead of relief, the act often leaves the oversharer feeling vulnerable and ashamed, as though they’ve exposed too much of themselves to someone who didn’t care enough to notice in the first place. My therapist said that this emotional aftermath is particularly excruciating, reinforcing the same feelings of abandonment that drove the oversharing in the first place. And it is.

Why Reassurance Matters

What oversharers truly want, my therapist emphasized (and I agree), isn’t attention or pity—it’s reassurance. But this reassurance must go beyond hollow words. It requires consistent actions that align with those words, actions that demonstrate care and attentiveness. My therapist explained that even SIMPLE GESTURES—a partner actively listening, validating their feelings, being consistent, or following through on promises—can make a world of difference.

When a partner is dismissive, inconsistent, or emotionally unavailable, it creates a cycle of desperation and oversharing. My therapist said that the partner’s lack of responsiveness often forces the oversharer into this painful position, making them feel as though the only way to be seen or valued is to reveal everything, no matter how vulnerable it makes them feel.

The Deeper Pain of Oversharing

My therapist also highlighted that the pain of oversharing isn’t just about embarrassment or vulnerability—it’s about the hurt of being pushed to a point where oversharing feels like the only option. It’s the anguish of knowing that your words may still fall on deaf ears, that even after baring your soul, the connection you’re desperately seeking might not materialize.

Every time someone overshares, they relive the ache of being emotionally dismissed. And when this pattern repeats—when oversharing is met with more indifference—it only deepens their sense of isolation. My therapist said this cycle is one of the most painful aspects of oversharing: the feeling that, no matter how much you reveal, it’s never enough to earn the attention and care you deserve.

What I’ve Come to Understand

Through therapy, I’ve realized that oversharing is not a weakness or a character flaw—it’s an emotional survival mechanism. It’s a way of coping with feeling unseen and unheard, especially in relationships where emotional safety is lacking. My therapist reminded me that this isn’t something to be ashamed of. Instead, it’s a sign of unmet needs—a cry for understanding, care, and love from someone who truly matters.

For relationships to heal, my therapist said, partners must learn to listen, validate, and show their love not just through words but through consistent actions. Oversharing doesn’t happen in a vacuum—it’s a response to emotional neglect. And when partners make the effort to provide emotional safety, the need to overshare naturally diminishes, replaced by a sense of connection and security that every relationship should have.

I’ve been reflecting on how God brings hidden things into the light and how that can help us break free from what holds us back. I don’t have it all figured out, but I’ve noticed patterns in my life where God has exposed things—not to shame me but to heal me. I’d like to share some of what I’ve been learning, including moments from my own journey.

I’ll never forget how much I loved sneaking chocolates as a kid. One night, I crept into the kitchen, grabbed a box of chocolates, and ate nearly half of it while everyone else was asleep. The next morning, when my mom found the box half empty, I denied everything, even though everyone knew that was my favorite chocolate! Looking back, it’s funny, but it also reminds me of how much effort we put into hiding things—even small things—only for the truth to come out anyway.

This reminds me of Luke 8:17, where Jesus says: “For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light” (ESV). Whether it’s something silly, like sneaking chocolates, or something deeper, God has a way of exposing things—not to embarrass us but to help us grow. When I’ve tried to hide things, I’ve only felt more guilt and anxiety.

8 years ago, I used to exaggerate my achievements to make myself look better, especially around my mom's side of the family. I didn’t outright lie, but I’d stretch the truth just enough to impress my family. On the outside, I seemed confident, but deep down, I was scared of not being enough for them.

One day, during a conversation with my leader then, she gently pointed out how much pressure I was putting on myself to meet unrealistic expectations. That struck a chord because I realized she was right—I wasn’t being honest about where I really was in life. I was trying to project a version of myself that wasn’t entirely true. I was so focused on my image; how people perceived me was so important to me.

When I brought this to God in prayer, I felt convicted. John 3:20-21 says: “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God” (NIV). This verse challenged me because I saw how much I avoided the truth—not just with others but even with myself.

That experience taught me that living in the light isn’t just about stopping bad habits; it’s about being real with myself and with God. As I started being more honest about my struggles and where I needed to grow, I felt a new sense of freedom. God’s light didn’t just expose the issue—it helped me face it and start walking in the truth.

For me, one of the biggest strongholds in my life has been people-pleasing. I used to bend over backward a thousand times for the people I care about. I didn’t want to say no to anyone, and I genuinely thought I was just being loving and selfless. But over time, people close to me started pointing out that this was causing my depression to worsen. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but I eventually realized that my need to please others had become a form of idolatry.

2 Corinthians 10:3-5 really speaks to this: “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.” My stronghold was my fear of disappointing people, which I was putting above my desire to please God. It was only when I started surrendering this to Him—letting go of the need to be everything to everyone—that I began to break free.

It’s still something I work on, but I’ve learned that pleasing others at the expense of my relationship with God is not what He calls me to do.

Walking in the light isn’t about being perfect; it’s about being honest—with God, myself, and others. 1 John 1:7 says: “If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin” (NIV). One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that “character is who you are when no one is looking.” Whether it’s sneaking chocolates, battling insecurity, or trying too hard to please people, God calls us to live with integrity and trust Him to transform us.

Looking back, I see how much freedom comes from stepping into the light. God’s light isn’t about shame—it’s about grace and growth. Whether it’s exposing a hidden sin or breaking a stronghold, His light leads to healing. And when I find myself tempted to hide something, I remind myself: “If you have to hide it, then deep down, you know something’s fundamentally wrong with what you’re doing.”

I’m still learning, and I know I’ll make mistakes along the way, but I’m grateful for a God who is patient with me and always invites me to walk in His light.