Growing Beyond Overwhelm
By Joanna Hughes · JoyPath Coaching
My teenager was explaining, with a lot of feeling, why my concerns about their weekend plans were “totally unfair.”
I felt it right away. The tightness in my chest. The pile of reasons stacking up behind my teeth, ready to pour out the moment they took a breath.
Instead, I said softly, “I hear you.” Then I closed my mouth and let myself pause.
That pause did not solve the weekend plans. But it changed the whole conversation. This article is about that pause: why our words flood out when we feel overwhelmed, and a simple way to let something kinder happen instead.
The duct tape of grace
At JoyPath I call that pause the duct tape of grace. It is a playful picture: a piece of tape across your own mouth at the very moment words are bursting to get out.
The grace part matters. This is not about silencing yourself or swallowing what you feel. Your voice still matters, and you will use it. The tape simply buys you a few breaths, so that what comes out next honors both you and the person in front of you.
Paired with three small words, “I hear you,” it creates just enough space for something to shift.
Why the words flood out
Dr. Dan Siegel describes something he calls the window of tolerance: the range in which we can think clearly, stay connected, and respond rather than react.
Under stress, especially in close relationships, we can slide out of that window in one of two directions. Some of us flood: talking faster, explaining more, pressing harder. Others shut down: going quiet, distant, frozen. Many of us do both, one right after the other.
One client put it this way: “It’s like I become a different person. One minute I’m frantically telling my kid what they should be doing differently. The next, I see the faraway look in their eyes, and I just freeze. Neither one feels like me.”
I learned this one evening in my own kitchen. I was following my husband from room to room, unloading a whirlwind of thoughts about weekend plans, the kids’ activities, and a dozen other “urgent” things. Then I caught his reflection in the window. Eyes glazed over. Shoulders tight.
I had pushed us both right out of our windows. Not because I meant any harm. Because I was overwhelmed, and the overwhelm was spilling onto him.
That moment taught me something I keep relearning: the kindest thing I can do is notice my own overwhelm before it becomes someone else’s.
Keeping yourself company
So what happens inside the pause? This is where resonance comes in.
Author Sarah Peyton describes resonance as the warm sense of being understood. Most of us hope to get that from someone else. But we can also offer it to ourselves, the way a kind friend would sit with us and simply notice what is going on, without rushing to fix it.
For many of us, this gets even richer when we invite Jesus into it. His name Immanuel means “God with us,” and he is glad to be with us right in the middle of the hard moment. Sometimes I simply ask, “Jesus, what would you like me to notice about what I’m feeling right now?” The answers often surprise me with their gentleness.
Four gentle places to notice
Your body. “I notice a flutter in my stomach, a tightness in my throat, a heaviness in my chest.”
Your feelings. “I notice in myself, I’m feeling anxious. And underneath that, maybe some sadness. These feelings are allowed to be here.”
Your needs. “Part of me really longs for some rest, some understanding, some acknowledgment.”
Your connection. “I notice tension when I think about this conversation, and a longing for more ease between us.”
You do not need all four every time. Often one is enough to bring you back into your window. If naming feelings is new for you, the Heart to Heart Check-in offers simple words to start with.
A Saturday dinner, and a different ending
Here is how it all came together for me not long ago.
My husband told me he had made plans for us to have dinner at a friend’s house on Saturday. I had quietly been hoping to spend that night resting after a long week.
My old pattern would have been to point out that he hadn’t asked me, list all the reasons it wasn’t a good idea, and work on changing his mind.
This time, I felt the urge to take control rising, and I noticed it in my body: tight chest, a little wave of panic about losing my quiet evening. I took a breath. “I hear you about wanting to connect with friends,” I said. Then the duct tape. Another breath.
In the pause, I kept myself company and invited Jesus in. I’m noticing a fluttery feeling in my stomach and tension in my shoulders. Something in me feels afraid. Afraid of being worn out. Afraid my needs won’t get met. I can be with this for a moment.
As my body settled, I could see more clearly. My wish to control the plans was coming from fear, not from what was true. My husband loves making social plans for our family, and most of the time I’m glad he does. My need for rest was real. So was his desire to see friends. Both could be honored.
When I felt steady, I said: “Thank you for handling these plans, honey. I trust you. I’m also noticing I’m pretty tired. I’d love some quiet time to myself on Sunday to recharge.”
His face softened. He smiled and said, “Of course. You know what? I can see you’ve had a long week. Why don’t you take some time for yourself before we go on Saturday, too?”
I thanked him, and I meant it. And quietly, I thanked Immanuel too.
The pause, step by step
When you put the pieces together, they tend to flow in a simple order:
1. Notice. Catch the signs that you are sliding toward overwhelm: a racing heart, a tight chest, an urgent need to talk or to fix.
2. Pause. Say “I hear you,” apply the duct tape of grace, and take a breath.
3. Keep yourself company. Notice what you are feeling and needing, with warmth. Invite Jesus in, if you like, and see what you discover.
4. Share from your own heart. Stay on your own paper and let go of managing theirs. Then say what you need or desire simply and kindly, or notice that you are free to let it go.
Each step makes the next one easier. The pause gives you room to notice. Noticing settles your body. A settled body speaks in a way the other person can actually hear.
Start with one piece
If all of this feels like a lot, that makes sense. You do not need to practice everything at once.
You might simply notice, this week, when you feel the urge to fill a tense moment with words. Or try “I hear you” once when tension rises. Or imagine the duct tape in a low-stakes moment, just to feel what that pause is like.
You will probably forget, and catch yourself halfway through a speech. That still counts. Noticing afterward is how you learn to notice sooner. Each time you pause to honor your own experience, you grow a little more room for connection, for you and for the people you love.
The two skills at the heart of this article, Restoring Honor with Respect and Sharing Your Heart Authentically, are part of the Seven Sacred Skills of a Gentle Protector.
If overwhelm keeps flooding your closest relationships, and you would love company as you learn a new way, I would be honored to walk with you. You can book a session whenever you are ready.
Further reading: Sarah Peyton, Your Resonant Self (W. W. Norton, 2017). Daniel J. Siegel, The Developing Mind, 3rd ed. (Guilford Press, 2020).
Client stories have been changed to protect confidentiality while keeping what they teach.