The diary of This Over-thinker.

Have you ever been talked over? You're speaking about something that really matters to you, and suddenly, someone more popular cuts in. Just like that, the attention shifts. You're left feeling like your words don’t matter. So you retreat—smile politely, nod along—but deep down, it hurts.

Have you ever struggled with low self-esteem? That constant feeling that your voice holds no weight? That no matter where you go, you’re not enough to express yourself?

Or maybe you have battled trauma. You tried to open up, but the few people you confided in either doubted you or brushed it off. Or maybe the fear of being labelled an attention seeker stops you from even trying.

You start to overthink everything: What if I speak and regret it? What if no one listens? What if I’m dismissed again?

Eventually, you choose silence—not because you're fine, but because it feels safer. Maybe you're naturally reserved and this isn’t your struggle. But for those who get it, you know that silence isn’t peace—it’s survival.

My younger sister is the louder one—the life of the party, the social butterfly. When she speaks, everyone listens. People support her, cheer her on, and give her the attention she deserves. Meanwhile, whenever I tried to speak, it felt like I was invisible. Either no one notices, or she talks over me, unintentionally pushing me back into the shadows. No hard feelings—I love her deeply—but the silence around me grew louder.

Low self-esteem is something many children deal with, especially when layered with trauma.

How do they connect? Often, when a child grows up feeling mistreated—through sexual trauma, chronic physical abuse, or constant verbal insults—their mind structures a sense of worthlessness. They start believing their voice doesn’t matter. That was me.

I wore a mask throughout senior secondary school. I was the “happy senior,” the “social senior”—always smiling, always showing up. But inside, I felt used, dirty, and invisible. That fake confidence was just a cover for how deeply broken I felt.

The silence usually shows itself when we're alone—when something triggers memories of what we went through as children.

You can be lively and still be silent.

You can be social and present, yet feel like your words carry no weight. There's a difference between being seen for your energy and being heard for your voice.

A person who speaks with depth and meaning shouldn't be compared to someone who only jokes or mocks others for attention.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“You’re so boring.”

Really? You think?

Most quiet people have a lot to say. But insecurity and the fear of being misunderstood often hold them back. They're not broken—but they are learning.

Silent over-thinkers often struggle to maintain deep connections. Friends, partners, even family—many expect more than they can give. To the outside world, it seems simple. But for them, it’s overwhelming. Being genuinely interested in someone else, when you’re not used to feeling seen, is hard.

That is why finding your circle matters. Not everyone deserves to be close. Seek people who listen—not just those who talk. People who don’t cut you off mid-sentence, but patiently hear you out. Even if they can't offer perfect advice, just being heard is healing.

Once you feel safe, the change begins. You’ll find yourself in bigger spaces, able to speak with confidence.

And remember—listen too. Conversations should be mutual. If you talk over someone, be kind enough to say, “I’m sorry, were you saying something?” Patience and humility go a long way.

Keep reading. Keep growing. 📌

It’s okay to be silent when you’re learning or observing. But don’t let silence become your prison. Your words matter. Your voice matters.

Stop hiding your light.

I hope this speaks to someone.

© Ogedegbe Emmanuella.