Think you've upset someone? Overthinkers should read this

I was standing in my kitchen, staring into the fridge as if it held the answers to life’s biggest questions, when the thought hit me: She looked a bit off when we said goodbye… was she upset with me?

And just like that, I was in the loop.

You know the one.

Replaying the conversation. Analysing every word. Rewriting how I should have responded. Reading between the lines of a goodbye text. Wondering if a slightly longer pause meant they’re mad, or worse...they don’t like me anymore.

I closed the fridge. I didn’t want food. I wanted reassurance. Only problem? I wasn’t going to find that in a tub of hummus or a string of imaginary scenarios.

But I still went looking.

The mental loop that feels like self-protection (but isn’t)

If you’re someone who deeply cares about others—someone who feels safest when things feel “okay” between you and the people you care about—you’ve probably been here too.

You sense a shift in someone’s tone or energy, and instantly your mind starts working overtime:

• Did I say too much?

• Maybe I came across as selfish…

• They didn’t use an emoji in that text. That’s never a good sign.

• What if I’ve upset them and they just haven’t said it yet?

This kind of overthinking can feel like you’re just being considerate. Like you're checking your impact, being responsible, keeping the peace.

But here’s the thing: that anxious loop isn’t always about them. Often, it’s about you trying to feel safe.

When your nervous system can’t tolerate “uncertainty”

Overthinking often stems from a fear of being in conflict, of disappointing someone, or of being emotionally “unsafe” in a relationship. It’s not just about wanting everyone to like you... it's about needing things to feel okay to feel settled inside.

For many of us, this pattern isn’t random. It’s rooted in early dynamics where we had to be hyper-aware of how others were feeling in order to stay emotionally regulated. Maybe you had a parent whose mood dictated the whole household, or you learned that being “too much” or “not enough” led to withdrawal or criticism.

So now, even a slightly off interaction can send your brain into detective mode, trying to scan for safety, fix the imagined rupture, and restore connection—even if one never actually existed.

But here’s the truth your anxious mind might not tell you:

Not all silences mean something is wrong. Not all pauses mean rejection. And not every moment of disconnection is your fault—or your responsibility to fix.

A real-life moment: “I think I’ve upset her”

Let’s go back to that moment in my kitchen.

My brain was doing its usual trick: replaying a conversation with a friend where I might’ve said something “too blunt.” She had seemed… I don’t know… quieter than usual when we parted ways. Not cold, not rude... just a tiny bit “off.”

And my mind? It latched onto it like Velcro.

I was suddenly convinced I’d crossed a line. That I needed to text her, apologise for… something? Anything? Just to ease the unease.

But instead of sending a frantic text, I paused and I asked myself a question I now offer to my clients:

“What are the actual facts of the situation, not the story I’m creating about it?”

The facts? We had a great conversation. She laughed. She hugged me when she left. No direct signs of upset.

No sharp tone. No words that suggested offence.

So where was this anxiety really coming from?

From me. From old fears. From a part of me that still equated emotional distance with danger. A part that believed if someone might be upset, I needed to earn back their love or approval just in case.

What if you don’t need to be a mind-reader?

This is where things start to shift...when you realise your job in relationships isn’t to read minds, avoid every possible mistake, or guarantee everyone stays forever un-upset with you.

Your job is to show up with integrity. To be kind, but honest. To care, but not contort.

And that requires learning to tolerate the discomfort of not always knowing what someone else is feeling.

Because sometimes they are off—and it has nothing to do with you. Sometimes they are upset, and they’ll tell you. And sometimes… you did nothing wrong, but you’re still sitting in shame, waiting for confirmation that you’re not a bad person.

That’s not self-awareness. That’s old survival wiring.

So what can you do instead?

Here’s the part where I want to offer you something practical...something you can hold onto when your brain starts doing backflips over an imagined conflict.

Start with a grounding check-In:

Ask yourself:

• What actually happened, without the emotional story?

• Did the other person say they were upset—or am I assuming?

• Have I had similar thoughts before that turned out to be false alarms?

  
  

Reframe the overthinking:

Instead of “I must’ve upset them,” try:

“I care deeply, and my brain is trying to protect me from disconnection. But I don’t need to jump to conclusions.”

Use a gentle self-dialogue (like this):

“It’s okay to feel uneasy. I’m not in trouble. If I made a mistake, I can own it but I don’t need to invent one to soothe this discomfort.”

Trust the relationship:

Healthy relationships have room for small wobbles. You are not responsible for managing everyone’s emotional state. You are allowed to take up space, be human, and not always be perfect.

What would you say to a friend?

If you’re still stuck in the loop, here’s a shortcut: imagine your best friend came to you with this worry. Would you tell her she’s selfish? That she’s a terrible person? Or would you say, “You’re overthinking it, love. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

What would it be like to speak to yourself with that same tone?

A final note: You don’t have to keep carrying this alone

If this pattern of overthinking, people-pleasing, and self-blame feels familiar, it’s not a character flaw. It’s a coping strategy. A smart one, built from moments where emotional safety depended on you staying small, agreeable, and alert.

But here’s the thing: you’re allowed to outgrow it.

You deserve relationships where you don’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells. Where you can relax, speak freely, and trust that being yourself won’t cost you connection.

And if this feels hard to do on your own? That’s okay. You don’t have to untangle it by yourself.

Let’s talk about it

Therapy with me is down-to-earth, warm, and conversational. I believe in being real...no clinical coldness or awkward silence. We might laugh, we might swear, and we’ll definitely get honest about what’s going on underneath the overthinking.

If this blog resonated with you, and you’re ready to explore where these patterns come from and how to shift them, I’d love to hear from you.

👉 Book a free 15-minute call or learn more about how I work here.

You’re not too much. You’re not broken. You’re just carrying some old wiring that’s ready to be rewired with compassion, not criticism.