We roast them in the comments, but deep down? We’re eating that trauma dump with a spoon. Here’s the psychology behind the scroll addiction.
You’re innocently scrolling Instagram when BAM—there it is. A six-slide story titled “My Divorce Journey.” No warning. No buildup. Just Karen and her ringless finger telling you how Todd cheated with the Zumba instructor and now she’s finding herself through chakra beads and oat milk.
And what do you do? You watch all six slides. Twice. You send it to your group chat with the message: “Why would she post this?? 😂” But let’s not kid ourselves – you were hooked. That drama was spicier than your $9.99 Taco Bell Cravings Box.
We say we hate oversharers. We act like we’d rather eat glass than hear one more post about childhood trauma wrapped in Canva graphics. But the truth? We love it. We crave it. We’re emotionally codependent on strangers’ bad decisions.
Let’s talk about why.
1. It’s Like Free Reality TV, But With Worse Lighting
You don’t need Netflix when Facebook is serving you live updates on Becky’s custody battle and Instagram has full episodes of “My Ex Stole My Cat and I Called the FBI.”
Oversharing is modern-day entertainment. And unlike scripted shows, this mess is real- unedited, emotionally unhinged, and posted at 2:37 a.m. It’s like Keeping Up With the Cringe.
And let’s be honest, watching someone else spiral publicly makes us feel better about our own chaos. Like, “Yeah, I might be emotionally unavailable, but at least I’m not live-streaming my vasectomy consultation.”
2. Schadenfreude, But Make It Digital
There’s a German word for this exact feeling: schadenfreude – pleasure derived from other people’s misfortunes. Sounds evil? Sure. But if you’ve ever giggled at someone posting “healing journey begins now” for the fourth time this year, congrats! You’re fluent in emotional German.
There’s something deliciously satisfying about watching people overshare, knowing you’d never (read: probably never) post a thirst trap while crying about your dad issues. The cringe is comforting. It reminds us we’re not alone in our dysfunction.
3. We’re All Nosy Little Goblins with WiFi
Social media turned everyone into a part-time detective with zero boundaries. We want the tea, the receipts, the blurry screenshots with red circles.
We say “TMI,” but we’re zooming in like, “Wait… is that a wedding ring in his pocket??”
We don’t just love oversharing – we expect it. If you post “worst day of my life” and don’t follow it up with a full play-by-play, we feel cheated. “Don’t vaguepost, Angela. You opened the trauma portal. Let me walk through.”
4. It’s Cheap Therapy (For Them. Content For Us.)
People post their deepest wounds online like it’s a Yelp review: “3 stars. Mom issues, mild gaslighting. Would not recommend.” And while the rest of us should probably look away, we don’t. Because it’s oddly therapeutic.
Someone’s overexposed truth can resonate with your under-addressed baggage. You watch them overshare, and suddenly your own issues don’t feel so shameful. You’re like, “Okay, I’m toxic—but at least I didn’t post a poem about my ex on LinkedIn.”
It’s communal healing, but make it passive-aggressive.
5. Oversharing Is the New Clout Currency
Let’s not ignore the digital elephant in the comment section: oversharing gets engagement. The more raw, chaotic, or secondhand embarrassing it is, the more views it pulls. We reward unfiltered pain with likes and LOLs.
Sad? Vulnerable? Emotionally cracked like an egg? Post it. You might just go viral.
This is the content economy now. Vulnerability equals visibility. Your pain is someone else’s popcorn.
6. We Overshare Too – Just in Disguise
You might think you don’t overshare. But be real – how many times have you posted a meme that just happens to apply to your breakup? Or uploaded a “funny” story that’s suspiciously specific to your life?
That’s called coded oversharing, babe. Welcome to the club.
We’re all part of the performance. Some of us post our pain in long captions, others in passive-aggressive memes. Either way, we’re all contributing to the beautiful mess that is digital trauma theater.
7. The Algorithm Is Thirsty for Your Emotions
Social media doesn’t just amplify oversharing – it profits off it. The algorithm rewards raw, messy content because it keeps you on the app longer. Anger, heartbreak, chaos? That’s clickbait with feelings.
When someone cries in their car with the caption “I’m just so tired,” the algorithm says: “YAAAAS, TRAFFIC!”
We think we’re in control of what we see, but really? The algorithm is the emotionally unstable puppet master feeding us a buffet of unfiltered drama.
So, Why Can’t We Look Away?
We’re not just entertained by oversharing. We’re drawn to it. Why?
Because vulnerability is magnetic. We’re hardwired to connect to others, and when someone rips open their emotional closet and tosses all their skeletons into the feed, we relate. We judge, sure – but we also empathize.
It’s a rare glimpse into someone else’s emotional basement. And let’s be honest – sometimes it’s cleaner than ours.
Why Do People Overshare on Social Media?
(Hint: It’s not just for clout – though the likes don’t hurt.)
Let’s break it down: Why are people out here telling the entire internet that their ex stole their dog and ghosted them mid-custody battle? Why are folks casually tweeting about childhood trauma in between thirst traps and iced coffee reels?
Because oversharing isn’t just random—it’s human. And in the age of dopamine-fueled scrolling, social media has turned into a digital confessional booth… minus the priest, plus a comments section full of strangers who think they’re therapists.
Validation Hits Harder Than Espresso
Oversharing often comes from a need to be seen. Heard. Validated. When someone drops a vulnerable post and it’s met with 87 “you’re so brave” comments and 200 likes? That’s instant emotional currency.
It’s not just “I had a bad day.” It’s “Please tell me I’m not crazy for feeling this way.”
And when you’re not getting that reassurance from your inner circle – or you don’t even have a solid inner circle – social media becomes the audience. The therapist. The best friend. The hug machine.
Only it hugs you with likes and emojis.
It’s Cheaper Than Therapy (And Has Funnier Memes)
Let’s be real: therapy’s expensive. Oversharing online? Free99.
If you’ve been bottling things up for years, finally unloading that emotional suitcase onto Facebook feels like a release. You’re venting. You’re purging. You’re processing—in public.
And sure, maybe Karen didn’t need to post a full paragraph about her miscarriage under a brunch photo, but it’s not always about logic. Sometimes, people just want to be with their pain in the open air. Because being silent? That hurts more.
Pain Is a Content Strategy Now
In a twisted plot twist nobody asked for, pain has become algorithm-friendly. Social platforms reward emotional chaos. A tearful video captioned “I just want to feel loved” will outperform your “look at my avocado toast” photo any day.
We live in a culture where authenticity = clout, and “authenticity” now means telling the internet about your worst day with eyeliner still on.
People overshare because they know it grabs attention. And attention? That’s digital survival.
We’re Addicted to Connection – Even If It’s Messy
Oversharing is, at its core, an attempt to connect. It says: “Here’s my mess. Anyone else feeling this too?”
And 9 times out of 10, someone is. Trauma posts get DMs. Heartfelt reels get shared. Someone always responds with “Omg SAME,” and suddenly, you’re not alone in your brain spiral.
We’re social creatures. We want to relate. And oversharing, for all its cringe, builds bridges—often with strangers who feel more validating than our friends IRL.
The Line Between Private and Public Is Basically Vapor Now
Let’s not forget: we’re the first generation to live fully online. We’ve been raised on reality TV, vlogs, confession culture, and the myth that “sharing is caring.”
We’ve been conditioned to blur the line between personal and public. Posting about your trauma now feels just as normal as posting about your lunch. (Sometimes it’s both. “Cried for two hours but this burger slaps.”)
Oversharing isn’t always a cry for help – it’s just the new normal. The overshare era is here, and it’s not going anywhere.
Okay, But What If You’re the One Oversharing?
Let’s flip it. Because if you’re reading this thinking “Wait… do I overshare?” the answer is: possibly. Probably. Yes.
Are you sadfishing? Do you make exaggerated claims about your emotional problems to get sympathy?
Here’s the thing: oversharing doesn’t have to be bad. But if you’re trauma-dumping on your Stories and wondering why no one’s texting back, maybe it’s time for some boundaries.
Here’s how to share without oversharing:
- Ask Yourself: Would I say this in a room full of coworkers?
If not, maybe don’t say it to the algorithm gods either. - Vent to a group chat, not a status update.
Your friends signed up for this. Your followers didn’t. - Use the “Close Friends” feature for a reason.
That green circle exists for a reason, queen. - Post your wins too.
Not every post needs to be a mental breakdown in Helvetica. - Take 5 before you post.
Just because it feels right at 2 a.m. doesn’t mean it’s internet-worthy at 2 p.m.
And for the love of WiFi, never, ever post a screenshot of your Notes app unless it contains a breakup announcement and a petty dig.
Confess, Comment, Repeat: The Digital Confessional Booth
We love to hate oversharers, but the truth is they’re the main characters of our timelines. They keep things spicy. They remind us we’re not the only emotionally unstable weirdos out here.
We judge. We roast. We screenshot. But we also scroll, we relate, and yeah—we care. Oversharing is cringe, but it’s also connection. It’s chaos, but it’s also comforting.
So next time someone posts a 27-frame Instagram Story about their on-again-off-again ex who ghosted them at Disneyland, don’t roll your eyes.
Okay, roll them. But also… watch it. Twice. And maybe send them a heart emoji. Or a therapist’s contact info.
Either way, you’re part of the cycle. And don’t pretend you don’t love it.
Spill It in the Comments – We Know You Want To
Alright, now it’s your turn in the digital confessional.
Do you live for a good overshare? Or are you one of those mysterious types who thinks feelings belong in journals and not TikToks?
Have you ever posted something way too personal and then deleted it 12 minutes later after no one reacted fast enough? (No judgment – we’ve all been there.)
Drop your take in the comments and don’t hold back—we want the hot ones, the cold ones, and the “I can’t believe they said that” ones.
Do you think oversharing is therapeutic… or just thirsty?
What’s the cringiest overshare you’ve ever witnessed online?
Is it ever okay to vaguepost and expect sympathy? (Be honest.)
And if you’re not done unpacking this gloriously messy trend, check out these related opinion bombs from the vault:
- 10 Everyday Habits That Say More About You Than You Think
- The Pettiest Thoughts You’ve Had (That Are Super Valid, BTW)
- 7 Ways People Inadvertently Prove They’re Selfish
Because oversharing might be cringe…
But bottling it up is even worse.