There was a period in my current relationship when I kept a kind of emotional record book of my feelings. Every flicker of anxiety, every moment of disconnect, every small thing I noticed and felt, I thought I owed it to us as a couple to name out loud. I had consumed enough content about emotional availability, vulnerability and healthy communication to be fluent in the language. I used it constantly. I thought I was doing everything right.The source of my conviction, if I am being honest, was largely my phone. Instagram reels about ‘communicating your needs.’ TikTok therapists breaking down ‘anxious attachment.’ Substack essays on honesty. Pinterest graphics about how ‘the right person won’t be overwhelmed by you.’ I absorbed all of it and translated it into action. I opened up about my childhood to my partner. I explained the reasons behind my reactions. I checked in on how he was feeling about how I was feeling. I brought things up in the moment because I had read that letting things fester was the true danger.For a while, it felt like intimacy. But in hindsight, I think it felt like surveillance of both of us.What I had not come to terms with was its weight. The relationship started to feel less like a place to rest and more like a seminar we didn’t sign up for. There was always an agenda or some issue to decode.Something to discuss, process and revisit. And somewhere underneath all that careful, well-intentioned talking, we had stopped simply being together. He has never complained about it, but I noticed it when even I started to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions I had let out. That’s when I decided that I needed to stop.As I spoke with others, it was comforting and eye-opening to know that I was not alone in this. A growing number of people who consider themselves ‘emotionally aware’ are finding that more communication is not reliably producing more connection. If anything, it sometimes seems to be getting in the way.‘It feels like I need to add an intro paragraph to every conversation’Tenaz Cardos, 33, describes herself as someone who genuinely values communication in relationships and who has worked hard to get better at it. “However, sometimes I do feel overwhelmed by the need to constantly provide context,” she tells indianexpress.com, adding, “It feels frustrating, and it feels like I need to keep adding an intro paragraph to every conversation I have, even though I feel like contextual clues should be enough. I spent some time in a country where I didn’t know the local language, and I had to pick up a lot of what was being spoken about around me through contextual clues, so I feel like this should be easy to do.”Story continues below this ad Are you talking about all your thoughts and feelings with your partner? (Source: Freepik)Communication, she notes, begins to feel like an added cognitive load not just on her partner, but on herself. “If I said, ‘OMG, I got accepted!’ and if I hear back, ‘What are you talking about?’ — it feels like the person isn’t paying enough attention to me. Also, if I’m sad, it hurts more to explain why.”The pain in that last observation is worth sitting with. There are moments of grief, panic, and raw feeling when being asked to narrate one’s own distress is not helpful. It is its own kind of loneliness.Nishank, 28, who has been in a relationship for seventeen years, speaks to a different but related frustration: what happens when the volume of communication actually increases during conflict without resolving anything. “There have been phases where we talked a lot — trying to explain, justify, and clarify — but still felt stuck. It feels like going in circles; the words increase, but clarity doesn’t. In those moments, it becomes frustrating because you start questioning whether you’re truly being heard. It can also feel emotionally exhausting, like you’re putting in effort without feeling more connected,” he tells indianexpress.com.He has also noticed what happens when every minor friction becomes an occasion for extended processing: “It also becomes overwhelming when every small issue turns into a long discussion. Not every feeling needs to be processed immediately or in detail. I’ve realised that constant ‘processing’ can take away the natural ease between two people. When conversations start feeling like obligations instead of connection, it’s a sign that it’s becoming too much.”Story continues below this adMannika, 35, gets at something different: the pressure to justify one’s own emotional reactions, as though feelings require a logical defence to be considered legitimate. “Yes, at times I feel like I don’t want to discuss every feeling or reaction. It feels like I have to justify my emotions as if there’s some logic to it. In pop-culture language, I don’t like to be psychoanalysed outside of therapy,” she explains.She also makes a point that challenges the dominant idea that more words always mean more clarity: “I think healthy communication can be helpful. And sometimes healthy communication can be less words also. Like mentioning a boundary rather than having to immediately justify why you need it.”When openness becomes a compulsionWhat these individual experiences point toward is something that mental health professionals have been watching with concern. And it is the way social media and the popularisation of therapy language have reshaped relational expectations, not always for the better.Aksheyaa Akilan, managing director and counsellor at Hibiscus Foundation for Social Welfare, says, “We come from a legacy of extreme emotional suppression where speaking up — especially for women — was labelled as disruptive. What we are seeing today with over-communication is just a massive generational overcorrection to that silencing.”Story continues below this adBut the problem, she argues, is that we have started conflating articulation with regulation. “We’ve started confusing constant articulation with actual emotional regulation. Healthy openness is about clarity. Emotional overexposure, on the other hand, happens when sharing turns into a compulsion to soothe your immediate anxiety. If every minor trigger has to be verbalised and managed by your partner, the relationship stops feeling romantic and starts feeling clinical.” Over-explaining can erode rather than build trust. (Source: Freepik)On the role of therapy language, such as those now-ubiquitous terms like ‘holding space’, ‘processing’, ‘unpacking,’ Akilan notes, “Sometimes, this language is even weaponised. It makes partners feel like they are failing at the relationship if they don’t want to constantly ‘process’ every single interaction. It sets up this exhausting, artificial expectation that we need to be running a therapy clinic in our own living rooms.”Dr Sakshi Mandhyan, psychologist and founder of Mandhyan Care, agrees that social media has created a gap between the language people use and the emotional understanding that language is supposed to reflect. “People are now able to name their feelings and articulate needs more clearly. This is a meaningful shift in relational awareness. At the same time, I also see language being used without emotional integration. Terms like ‘boundaries’ or ‘holding space’ can sound correct but may not reflect actual understanding.”The result, she observes, is communication that becomes performative — focused on saying things the right way rather than on genuine connection.Story continues below this adThe anxiety it can createOne of the more counterintuitive findings from both clinicians is that constant emotional check-ins can generate the very anxiety they are designed to soothe. Akilan describes how excessive monitoring creates a hypervigilant relational environment. “Suddenly, normal human things like just being tired or wanting to be quiet are treated as ‘issues’ that need to be fixed immediately. Everyone ends up walking on eggshells, terrified that a simple sigh is going to trigger an hour-long dissection of the relationship,” she reveals.Dr Mandhyan explains the neurological dimension, adding, “From a neuroscience perspective, frequent checking keeps the brain in a state of alertness. The amygdala stays activated, which increases sensitivity to small changes in behaviour or tone. Instead of feeling secure, partners begin scanning for signs of disconnection.” Over-explaining, she adds, can erode rather than build trust. It may signal that feelings are too fragile to withstand any ambiguity, creating dependency rather than confidence.Both experts are careful to distinguish between healthy restraint and suppression. Nishank, speaking from nearly two decades of partnership, has arrived at a similar conclusion through experience, sharing, “In a long relationship, understanding grows beyond words — through trust, shared experiences, and patterns. In many cases, less but more thoughtful communication would have actually strengthened the bond.”What balance actually looks likeSo what is the alternative? Dr Mandhyan offers a useful reframe, “Balanced communication is not about saying everything. It is about knowing what needs to be said and what can be held. I find that in more secure relationships, there is less urgency to explain every feeling. People can sit with each other without constantly checking where they stand. This quiet comfort is also a form of communication.”Story continues below this adAkilan goes further, calling for a rehabilitation of non-verbal intimacy. “You can build an incredible connection just by existing together — cooking, running errands, or sitting on the couch without needing to verbally narrate the experience. It takes trust to know that a quiet afternoon doesn’t mean your partner is pulling away. Sometimes, the absolute best thing you can do for your relationship is to stop analysing it and just let yourselves live in it,” she says.