Letting Go of the Need to Explain Your Choices to OthersI’ve always had a tendency to overexplain things.
Not because anyone necessarily asked, but because I felt like I needed to justify what I was doing. As if my decisions needed to make sense to everyone around me in order to be valid.
After Jon passed, that feeling got even stronger.
I found myself explaining things that, when I look back now, really didn’t need an explanation at all.
I explained why I was able to stay home with my kids.
I explained how I could afford to add an addition onto our house.
I explained why I stopped wearing my wedding ring after nine months.
I explained why I chose to keep homeschooling instead of putting my kids in school.
I explained why I moved from Maine to New Hampshire.
And later...
I explained when I started dating.
I explained when I got remarried.
No matter what I did, it seemed like there were opinions.
Some people thought I was moving forward too quickly.
Others thought I wasn’t moving forward fast enough.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I started to feel like I needed to defend my decisions, just to keep the peace…or to avoid being misunderstood.
But over time, something began to shift.
I started to realize that most of those explanations weren’t actually necessary.
They weren’t coming from a place of peace or confidence.
They were coming from a place of pressure.
Grief has a way of putting your life under a microscope.
People watch.
They notice.
They form opinions, whether they’ve walked through loss themselves or not.
And suddenly, deeply personal decisions feel like public ones.
How long you grieve.
What you keep.
What you let go of.
How you raise your children.
When you begin to rebuild your life.
It can feel like everything you do needs to be explained, or justified, so that other people are comfortable with it.
But here’s what I’ve learned:
Not everyone needs access to your “why.”
Some decisions are made in quiet moments with the Lord.
Some are shaped by conversations no one else was part of.
Some come from walking through things that other people simply haven’t experienced.
And those things don’t always translate in a quick explanation.I see this show up in other areas of life too.
In my business, I’ve felt the pull to explain changes — why I run my piano studio the way I do, why I’ve chosen to stay fully online.
In my health, I’ve felt the need to explain why I eat the way I do, why I avoid certain foods, why I prioritize movement every day.
It’s easy to fall into that pattern of thinking:
If they understand my reasons, then they’ll approve.
If they approve, then I can feel at peace.
But peace doesn’t come from other people understanding.
Peace comes from knowing you’re making decisions in alignment with what God is leading you to do.
When you’ve walked through loss, your decisions often look different.
Your perspective changes.
Your priorities shift.
Your tolerance for things that don’t matter gets lower.
You begin to build a life that reflects what you’ve learned, what you value, and what you know to be true now.
And not everyone will understand that.
They can’t.
Because they haven’t lived your story.
There is a difference between sharing and explaining.
Sharing can be beautiful. It can invite connection. It can encourage someone else who is walking a similar path.
But explaining, especially when it comes from a place of pressure, is different.
It often comes from feeling like you need permission.
And you don’t.
You don’t need permission to grieve the way you grieve.
You don’t need permission to move forward when you’re ready.
You don’t need permission to make decisions for your family, your home, or your life.
“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.” — Proverbs 29:25
There’s a quiet freedom that comes when you begin to live from that place.
When you release the need to be understood by everyone.
When you stop trying to manage other people’s opinions.
When you let God be the One who guides your decisions—and the One who holds your peace.
If you find yourself overexplaining, I want to gently offer this:
Pause before you explain.
Ask yourself—Do I actually need to share this? Or am I trying to make someone else comfortable?
You are allowed to simply make a decision and let it stand.
You are allowed to say less.
You are allowed to hold parts of your story close.
After loss, so much of life feels uncertain.
But this is something you can be sure of:
You are the one living your life.
And you don’t have to explain it to everyone else.
If you have been feeling a off lately — low energy, brain fog, constant cravings, or just feeling depleted — I’d love to invite you to join me for a simple two-week reset. We’ll focus on simple daily rhythms that support your body and restore steady energy. Nothing extreme, just simple habits practiced consistently. If that sounds like something you need right now, I’d love to have you join us.
You can reach out to me in the comments, or by sending me a message on Facebook or Instagram.
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