How Anxious Self-Talk Keeps You Stuck: What “Should,” “Always,” and “Never” Are Really Saying

Some words feel small, but they carry a heavy emotional punch.

Words like should, always, never, everything, and nothing often shape our thoughts without us realizing it. They often go unnoticed, tucked into our thoughts like background commentary. But these aren’t harmless habits of speech. They’re shortcuts our anxious brains use to feel safe and in control.

Words like always and never aren’t describing what’s happening, they’re describing how often or how certainly we think it will happen.

They offer a false sense of certainty:
“It will always be this hard.”
“You’ll never get it right.”

In a nervous system wired to avoid danger, these adverbs can feel oddly comforting. They reduce ambiguity. They make things black and white. They create the illusion of predictability, even if it’s predictably bad.

But here’s the problem: when we rely on these words to make sense of our lives, we start to shrink ourselves down to fit the story they tell.

If it’s always been this way, why bother trying?
If it never works out, why speak up or take a risk?
If I should be better by now, what’s wrong with me?

These patterns of language become more than just mental chatter, they become the rules we unconsciously live by. They become anxious self-talk, a running script of doubt and pressure that keeps us stuck.

And I know this not just from my work, but from my own life.

When “Never” Almost Cost Me the View

I’ve been going to Yosemite since I was a child. It’s one of those places that lives in your bones, the scent of pine, the thunder of waterfalls, the awe that hits you when the granite peaks catch the light just right.

And for as long as I can remember, I’ve known about the Mist Trail.

It’s famous, and for good reason. The trail winds up the side of a mountain, with steep stone steps cut into wet rock, mist from Vernal Falls drenching the path, and sharp drop-offs that test your nerves with every turn.

And for just as long, I told myself a story about that trail.

“I’ll never be able to do that.”
“I’m not someone who handles heights well.”
“I always panic in situations like that.”
“I should just stick to easier hikes.”

I passed up chances to go with friends. I stayed behind when others forged ahead. Once, I even made it to the base of the stairs, just close enough to feel the mist on my cheeks, and turned back.

The truth? I wasn’t afraid of disproving the story.

I was afraid of proving it.

I was afraid I’d panic in front of people who made it look easy.
Afraid I’d freeze halfway up.
Afraid I’d be the one who couldn’t do it, again.

Most of all, I was afraid of the shame that might come from turning around while everyone else kept climbing.

What I didn’t realize then was how much weight those anxious words, never, always, should, were quietly carrying.

Not just fear.

But judgment.

And the belief that if something felt hard for me, it meant something was wrong with me.

When the Language Shifted, So Did I

But this time was different.

I didn’t feel braver. Or stronger. Or somehow magically ready.

What felt different was the way I heard myself.

As I approached the trailhead, I noticed the familiar thoughts begin to surface:
“You should probably just skip it.”
“You always freeze up.”
“You’re never going to make it all the way.”

But instead of letting those words take over, I paused.

I took a breath.

And I asked myself, What if those thoughts aren’t the truth? What if they’re just old patterns trying to protect me?

I didn’t try to be fearless. I just decided to walk alongside the fear this time, without giving it the mic.

Instead of never, I tried not yet.
Instead of “I always panic,” I reminded myself, “Sometimes it’s hard, and I’ve handled hard things before.”
Instead of “I should be able to do this easily,” I gently said, “It’s okay that this feels big for me.”

And step by careful step, breath by shaky breath, I kept going.

I took breaks when I needed to.
I let myself go slowly.
I didn’t push the fear away, but I didn’t let it decide for me either.

And eventually, legs shaking, heart pounding, I made it to the top.

The view was breathtaking.

But what truly moved me was this quiet realization:
The only thing that had ever truly been in my way was the anxious self-talk I believed about myself.

The Words That Build the Cage

That hike taught me something I come back to often in my work, and in my own life:

Anxiety doesn’t just speak through fear. It speaks through anxious self-talk.

The words we use with ourselves, quietly, repeatedly, become the emotional framework we live inside.

Words like never, always, should, nothing, and everything don’t just describe what’s happening.

They declare what’s possible.

And when anxiety is running the show, they create the illusion of certainty, but that certainty almost always sounds like limitation.

“You’ll never be good at this.”
“You always mess it up.”
“You should be over this by now.”
“Everything is falling apart.”
“Nothing ever works out.”

This is the voice of anxious self-talk: the brain’s attempt to limit the unknown and avoid shame, but it can end up boxing us in.

Here’s the good news: once you start spotting these words, you can begin to loosen their grip.

You can meet them with curiosity instead of obedience.

You can shift them gently.

And in doing so, you can start to build a more flexible, spacious, and compassionate relationship with your thoughts.

Final Thoughts: You Are Not Your Words

That day on the Mist Trail, what changed wasn’t my fear, it was my relationship to it.

I didn’t erase my anxiety. I didn’t suddenly become someone who loves heights and slippery stairs.

But I stopped letting anxious self-talk, words like never, always, and should, narrate my story.

And that made all the difference.

Because when we begin to notice the language of anxiety, we create the tiniest crack in the old stories, just enough light to come in.

Just enough room for a new possibility.

Just enough space to move forward, even with shaky legs and a racing heart.

So if you recognize yourself in this post, if your inner world is filled with shoulds and nevers and not enoughs, please know this:

You are not alone.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.

You’re a human being with a beautifully protective mind that sometimes gets loud when it’s trying to keep you safe.

Start by noticing the words.

Gently challenge the absolutes.

Speak to yourself the way you would a beloved friend.

Because the goal isn’t to get rid of your anxious mind.

The goal is to build a kinder, wiser relationship with it.

And that, more than anything, is what allows us to keep climbing.

This site is for informational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose or treat mental health or medical conditions, nor should it be used to do so.

Want support quieting the anxious self-talk?

I offer anxiety therapy for adults who feel stuck in overthinking, self-doubt, and inner criticism. If you’re ready to explore a gentler, more empowered relationship with yourself, click here to contact me.

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What Chelsea from White Lotus Teaches Us About People-Pleasing and Anxiety

We need to talk about Chelsea.

If you watched Season 3 of The White Lotus, you probably fell for her: the sunny and daffy sidekick, the peacekeeper, the one who tried so hard to be the light in the middle of other people’s chaos. (For those unfamiliar with the show, Chelsea is a free-spirited former yoga teacher traveling with her emotionally guarded boyfriend. She’s warm, eager to connect, and agreeable. Often to keep the peace at great personal cost.)

She was charming and warm, easy to root for. Viewers loved her. I loved her.

And yet, I found myself watching with a sense of dread that deepened with every episode.

Because underneath all that sweetness was something so many of us know too well.

Anxiety.
A fear of conflict.
A nervous system working overtime to keep everyone else calm at her own expense.

Chelsea wasn’t just “the nice one.” She was the anxious one.

And her need to be needed, to be liked, to be accepted came at a high cost.

When People-Pleasing Becomes a Survival Strategy

Chelsea’s people-pleasing might have looked like kindness, but if you listen closely, it was the sound of self-abandonment.

Throughout the season, you saw her:

• Reassuring Rick, even as his behavior became increasingly volatile (Rick is Chelsea’s emotionally guarded boyfriend who carries unresolved emotional pain that shows up as disapproval or withdrawal)

• Laughing off moments of discomfort

• Finding ways to join with others even when their ideas were off base

• Trying to “fix” Saxon after he disrespected her boundaries (Saxon is the privileged son of a wealthy family who masks insecurity with charm and intensity, creating a confusing dynamic that pulls Chelsea in)

• Downplaying her own needs in favor of soothing other people’s feelings

• Offering grace, over and over again, without receiving it in return

She chose not to set a boundary with Rick. Again and again, she reached toward him hoping for connection and acceptance. Again and again, she was met with disapproval, distance, or outright rejection. Yet she kept showing up, trying harder and giving more. Her loyalty was admirable but it was also a quiet form of self-abandonment.

She did set a boundary with Saxon when she said no to his advances. Then she overrode her own boundary to comfort him and help him become a better person even when he again disrespected her relationship boundary.

That is the painful truth about people-pleasing.
It often includes setting a boundary, then feeling guilty and undoing it.

Chelsea’s generosity was genuine. But when care for others consistently outweighed care for herself, it became self-sacrifice. In the end, her struggle to hold a boundary combined with her deep longing to feel loved, even by those who didn’t treat her well, led her into harm’s way.

Why People-Pleasing and Anxiety Are So Often Linked

We tend to think of people-pleasing as a personality trait: “She’s just really sweet,” “She hates conflict,” “She’s the glue that holds everyone together.”

But clinically? People-pleasing is often a survival strategy rooted in anxiety.

It’s the nervous system saying:

“If I keep everyone happy, I’ll be safe.”
“If I’m easygoing, I won’t be rejected.”
“If I don’t make waves, I’ll be loved.”

Let’s be honest. Most of us were trained to do this.

Especially for women and those raised in nurturing roles, people-pleasing is socialized early and consistently rewarded. You’re praised for being selfless, thoughtful, flexible. You’re the one who smooths things over, anticipates needs, keeps everyone comfortable.

So of course it’s a hard habit to break. People-pleasing feels like love. It feels like safety. It feels like being good.

But goodness that comes at the cost of your well-being? That’s not health. That’s sacrifice.

Why People-Pleasing Is Emotionally Exhausting

The hardest part of being a people-pleaser is that it can look like you’re fine - calm, generous, easygoing - even when you’re overwhelmed inside.

You’re praised for being supportive and understanding.
You’re the one others rely on.
You might even pride yourself on being “low maintenance.”

But here’s the quiet cost:

• You struggle to say what you really think

• You feel responsible for other people’s moods

• You don’t know how to ask for what you need

• And sometimes, you don’t even know what you need because you’re so used to tuning in to everyone else

On the outside, you’re Chelsea, easy to be around.
But on the inside, you’re exhausted, unsure of yourself, and wondering why it feels like you’re living someone else’s life.

How to Set and Hold Healthy Emotional Boundaries

Chelsea did try to set boundaries. She said no. She pulled away. She even named her discomfort.

But here’s the thing:
A boundary isn’t just what you say. It’s what you do after you say it.

Setting a boundary is one step.
Holding it is another.

And when you’ve spent years prioritizing other people’s comfort, holding a boundary can feel mean even though it’s actually a profound act of self-care.

When you prioritize the emotional well-being of others over your own safety, peace, or values, you are not “being kind.” You are abandoning yourself.

Caring for others is a beautiful thing.
But when it becomes people-pleasing, you’re no longer part of the caring equation.
You forget that you matter too.

4 Ways to Start Healing from People-Pleasing

If you saw yourself in Chelsea, I want to gently offer a few things to reflect on:

1. Start noticing the moments you override yourself
   That moment you say yes when you feel a no? That flicker of resentment when you’re helping… again? That’s good information. That’s your inner wisdom asking to be heard.

2. Ask: What am I afraid will happen if I disappoint someone?
   Often, people-pleasing isn’t about liking people—it’s about fearing disconnection. Fear of being seen as selfish. Fear of being alone. Getting clear on those fears helps you respond rather than react.

3. Let “kindness” include you
   Being kind doesn’t mean making yourself disappear. It means caring for yourself with the same tenderness you offer everyone else. You’re not less worthy of comfort, space, or rest.

4. Practice tolerating discomfort
   People might not love your boundaries. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re growing. You’re allowed to disappoint people. And you’re allowed to survive it.

The Relief of Letting Go of People-Pleasing

When you start loosening the grip of people-pleasing, something surprising happens:
You feel lighter, clearer, and more rooted in yourself.

You begin to trust both your inner yes and your inner no.
You feel safer being seen as you are rather than someone others expect you to be.

And your relationships? They become more honest, more reciprocal, and more real.

You stop spending so much energy managing how you’re perceived and start spending that energy building a life that actually feels like yours.

Try This: A Gentle Pause to Reconnect With Yourself

The Pause + Check-In

Before saying yes to a request, take a breath and ask yourself:

• Do I want to do this?

• Do I have the capacity to do this?

• Am I saying yes to connect or to avoid guilt or conflict?

• What does it feel like in my body when I consider saying yes or no?

• What do I need to take care of me in this situation?

Final Thoughts

Chelsea was lovable because she made herself easy to love.

But what if she didn’t have to try so hard?

What if love didn’t require shrinking, softening, or disappearing?

What if holding boundaries—especially when it’s uncomfortable—is actually how you come back to yourself?

You are not here to be the fixer of everyone else’s mess.
You are not here to sacrifice your safety to keep others from feeling awkward.
You are allowed to be clear. You are allowed to walk away.
You are allowed to take care of you.

Being sweet isn’t bad.
But being whole is better.

Warmly,

Andrea

This site is for informational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose or treat mental health or medical conditions, nor should it be used to do so.

Want support breaking the people-pleasing pattern and learning to care for you too?

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When Your Mind Won’t Stop Talking to You: Learning to Quiet the Noise

It’s one of those days…your brain just. won’t. stop.

There’s no crisis. No disaster. You’re just going about your day—making your morning coffee, running errands, sitting in a meeting—and your mind is doing that thing again.

It’s buzzing. Spinning. Replaying old conversations and catastrophizing future ones. It’s whispering, nudging, narrating:

“Did I sound weird?”
“What if something goes wrong?”
“You should be doing more.”

Welcome to the inner noise. We all have it, just more or less of it!

What is “the noise,” exactly?

I call it the noise—that mental hum of anxious thoughts, worst-case scenarios, self-doubt, and what-ifs that plays in the background of our lives. Sometimes it’s a low murmur. Sometimes it’s full volume.

And often, it sounds suspiciously like your inner critic—that part of you that second-guesses, shames, warns, and keeps you playing small.
It might say:
“You’re going to mess this up.”
“Don’t speak up—you’ll sound stupid.”
“Why can’t you just get it together?”

Sound familiar?

Well, I’m here to tell you that you are not broken. You’re human.

Let me say this clearly:
If you experience this kind of mental chatter, you are not broken. You are not weak. You are not failing at life.

What you’re experiencing is a brain trying to protect you, with a bit of faulty wiring and a lot of outdated programming.

Your brain evolved to scan for threats. And in the absence of real danger (say, that proverbial tiger in the bushes), it scans for perceived threats—like disapproval, uncertainty, or vulnerability. Your thoughts are your brain’s way of trying to keep you safe… they often stop you from stepping outside of your comfort zone. Yet, when we don’t take any risks, we end up feeling stuck and frustrated with ourselves and our lives.

Why we hold on to anxious thinking (even when it’s exhausting).

Believe it or not, anxiety sometimes feels helpful.

All that thinking can give us a sense of control. As if by mentally rehearsing every possible outcome, we’ll be better prepared. Like we’re doing something productive.

Worrying distracts us from experiencing whatever feels alive underneath the worry–feelings that might be difficult to sit with, including sadness, fear, frustration, grief, or anger.
Overthinking gives us the illusion that we’re preventing failure.
Expecting the worst feels protective, because then we won’t be caught off guard.

And sometimes, especially in certain families or friend groups, being anxious or reserved is a kind of social glue. “Don’t be too happy” or “don’t get your hopes up” becomes a quiet rule for staying connected.

So if you’ve ever had the thought, “I need my anxiety—it keeps me safe,” that makes perfect sense.

And still… it comes at a cost.

What anxiety can take from us

Here’s what I see every week in my work with clients: anxiety can be deeply limiting.

It can keep you from:
Speaking up—because you might say the wrong thing
Resting—because that voice says you haven’t earned it
Trying something new—because the risk of failure feels unbearable
Letting go—because what if something goes wrong the moment you relax?
Connecting with others—because vulnerability feels unsafe

Over time, anxiety can shrink your world. Quiet your joy. Dampen your self-trust, self-confidence, and self-worth.

Not all at once. Slowly. Subtly. Like background noise, you eventually stop noticing, until you realize it’s been shaping every decision.

The good news? You don’t have to fight your mind, and you don’t have to “get rid” of anxiety to see positive changes in your life.

Here’s the shift:
You don’t have to silence your thoughts. You just don’t have to let them run the show.

When we stop trying to “get rid of” anxiety and instead learn how to relate to it with curiosity and compassion, that’s when things begin to change.

Three gentle ways to quiet the noise.

Recognize your inner critic when it shows up

That voice in your head? The one that’s always judging, warning, or predicting disaster?

It’s trying to protect you. But, it often does its job too well and ends up keeping you playing small in your life.

Try naming it gently:
“Ah, there goes my inner critic again, trying to keep me safe.”
“My inner critic is saying, “I’ll mess this up.But that is just a thought – it is not the truth.”

You don’t have to argue with it. Just notice it. That creates space, and space is where calm lives.

Breathe like you mean it

I know, I know—everyone says “just breathe.” But this isn’t about taking one dramatic inhale and hoping for a miracle.

This is about giving your nervous system a message: We’re safe now.

Try this:
– Inhale for 4
– Exhale slowly for 6
– Repeat a few rounds

This simple shift helps your body step out of fight-or-flight mode and into a calmer state of being.

Speak to yourself like someone you love

If your best friend came to you overwhelmed and afraid, would you say, “Get over it”?

I’m guessing not.

Try offering yourself the same kindness. You might say:
“This is hard, and I can figure it out.”
“I can feel anxious and still show up.”
“My thoughts are loud, but they aren’t facts.”

Kindness toward yourself isn’t fluffy—it’s powerful.

What if the goal isn’t to eliminate anxiety?

Maybe the goal is this:
To know your mind gets loud sometimes, and not let it define you
To hear the noise and still move forward
To feel anxious and still be kind to yourself
To quiet the noise, not by force, but by understanding

Anxiety may be part of your story.
But it doesn’t have to write the whole thing.

In case you need to hear it today:

You’re allowed to rest, even if your brain says otherwise.
You don’t have to believe every thought you think.
There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling this way.
You’re not alone.
You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.

Final Thoughts

Sometimes, when people first start to recognize their anxious mind for what it is—a protective but overactive part of them—they feel a wave of grief. Or frustration. Or even fear. “But this is how I’ve always coped,” clients tell me. And I get it. Anxiety has sometimes saved our lives; for example, when we scan for danger before stepping out into the street. But oftentimes, it distracts us by disconnecting us from what we are really feeling and need to take action on; for example, having that difficult conversation with a friend. Instead, we get caught up in overthinking and don’t take action. It’s become a kind of armor.

So let me offer this: quieting the noise doesn’t mean getting rid of a part of you. It means learning to listen more gently. It means deciding who gets to be in the driver’s seat of your life and who can ride quietly in the backseat. You get to build a relationship with your mind that is wiser, kinder, and more aligned with who you are becoming.

And that? That’s worth everything.

Warmly,

Andrea

This site is for informational purposes only. It is not intended to diagnose or treat mental health or medical conditions, nor should it be used to do so.

Blog Post Title Four

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.