What I Listen for When Someone Says They Feel Like They’re Walking on Eggshells
Lianne Perry, MA, MSc., RCC
There’s a phrase I hear fairly often in my counselling practice: “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”
Sometimes it comes out almost casually, tucked into a conversation about an argument or a difficult week. Other times, there’s a pause before someone says it, as though they’re trying to find the right words to describe something that has become so familiar they barely notice it anymore.
When I hear those words, I pay attention. Not because they automatically tell me someone is in an emotionally abusive relationship, but because they tell me something important about how safe that person feels being themselves. Often, what comes next tells me even more.
I'm Listening for What Happens Before Anything Actually Happens
One of the first things I’m curious about is what someone is anticipating.
Are they worried about saying the wrong thing? Do they rehearse conversations before having them? Are they watching someone’s facial expressions, tone of voice, or body language for signs that the mood is about to change?
Sometimes clients describe knowing something is wrong the moment their partner walks through the door. Nothing has been said yet, but they’ve already started adjusting their behaviour.
They might become quieter, change the subject, abandon something they were planning to discuss, or suddenly find themselves trying to make everything pleasant.
What interests me clinically is that the anticipated reaction has already begun influencing their behaviour, even though the reaction itself hasn't happened. That's an exhausting way to live.
I'm Listening for How Much Responsibility They've Taken On
Another thing I notice is how often someone describes themselves as responsible for managing another person's emotional state.
They might say things like, "I should have known that would upset him," or "If I'd just explained it differently, we wouldn't have argued."
Sometimes they tell me they can prevent conflict if they stay calm enough, choose their words carefully enough, or avoid certain topics altogether.
There's an important distinction here. We all have a responsibility to communicate respectfully and consider how our behaviour affects others. But we aren't responsible for controlling another adult's emotional reactions.
In relationships where antagonistic behaviours are present, that distinction can become increasingly blurred.
Over time, someone may begin believing that keeping the peace is entirely their job. When things go badly, they don't necessarily question the other person's behaviour. They question what they could have done differently, and that can gradually erode their trust in themselves.
I'm Listening for What Their Nervous System Has Learned
When someone describes constantly monitoring another person's mood, I'm also thinking about their nervous system.
Our brains are remarkably good at learning patterns, particularly patterns connected to emotional or physical safety.
If a person has repeatedly experienced criticism, unpredictable anger, withdrawal, or punishment for expressing themselves, their nervous system may begin anticipating those experiences.
They might feel anxious before their partner arrives home, notice their stomach tightening when a text message comes through, or find themselves immediately apologizing when someone's tone changes.
These reactions aren't necessarily conscious decisions. They're often protective responses that have developed through experience.
From an Internal Family Systems (IFS) perspective, I might become curious about the protective parts of someone that have learned to scan for danger, smooth things over, or keep everyone happy.
Those parts aren't trying to make life difficult. They're trying to prevent something painful from happening again.
Understanding that can be an important shift, especially for someone who has spent years criticizing themselves for being too sensitive or anxious.
I'm Listening for What They've Stopped Saying
Sometimes what someone doesn't say is just as important as what they do.
I might ask whether there are subjects they've stopped bringing up, feelings they no longer express, or needs they've learned to keep to themselves.
Perhaps they used to speak openly about their friendships, but now they avoid mentioning certain people. Maybe they've stopped disagreeing because even small differences of opinion seem to turn into arguments.
Or perhaps they've become so accustomed to considering someone else's preferences that they genuinely struggle to identify their own.
This kind of self-silencing can happen gradually. At first, it might seem like a reasonable compromise. Over time, though, the compromises may become increasingly one-sided, until someone realizes they've been making themselves smaller to keep the relationship stable.
That's something I want to understand, not judge.
I'm Listening for the Difference Between Conflict and Fear
Every relationship experiences conflict. Even healthy couples disagree, misunderstand each other, and occasionally say things they regret.
What matters is how those moments are handled.
In healthier relationships, people can generally express disagreement without fearing humiliation, retaliation, or prolonged emotional punishment. There is room for repair, accountability, and different perspectives.
When someone feels they're walking on eggshells, I'm curious about whether that sense of safety is missing.
Can they say no? Can they express hurt without having the conversation turned against them? Can they raise a concern without being told they're imagining things, overreacting, or creating problems?
I'm also listening for whether the other person takes responsibility for their behaviour or whether accountability consistently gets redirected back onto my client.
These patterns help me understand the relationship dynamic without rushing to label anyone.
I'm Also Listening for What Keeps Them There
One of the most important things I've learned in this work is that understanding a relationship is harmful doesn't automatically make leaving simple or possible.
People stay for many reasons, including love, hope, financial circumstances, children, practical responsibilities, fear, or the belief that things might improve.
Sometimes there are genuine moments of warmth and connection that make the painful experiences harder to reconcile.
I don't assume that someone should leave simply because they've described troubling patterns. My role isn't to make that decision for them.
Instead, I want to help them understand what they're experiencing, reconnect with their own judgment, and explore what safety and choice might look like in their particular circumstances.
For some people, that may eventually involve leaving. For others, the immediate work may be about establishing boundaries, building support, or developing strategies to protect their emotional well-being.
The pace and direction of that work need to reflect their reality.
What I Hope Changes Over Time
One of the changes I find especially meaningful is when someone begins noticing how much energy they've been spending anticipating another person's reactions.
They start recognizing the difference between being considerate and being afraid. They become more aware of the moments when they silence themselves, apologize automatically, or assume responsibility for emotions that aren't theirs to manage.
That awareness doesn't necessarily change the relationship overnight, and it certainly doesn't mean the nervous system immediately stops responding to old patterns.
But it creates space for something important: choice.
Instead of automatically asking, "What did I do wrong?" they may begin asking, "What happened here, and how did it affect me?"
For someone who has spent a long time walking on eggshells, that can be a significant step toward trusting themselves again. Sometimes, that is where healing begins.
Joey's Take 🐾
I pay pretty close attention to what's happening around me, especially when we're out walking. Sometimes I spot something before my human does, and I make sure she knows about it. Apparently, though, not everything requires me to be on high alert. I'm still working on that distinction, but I have discovered that life is a lot more enjoyable when I can relax and just sniff things.
About Lianne
I’m Lianne Perry, a Registered Clinical Counsellor in BC who works online with clients across Canada. I specialize in trauma, anxiety, life transitions, and helping people recover from emotionally abusive and manipulative relationships. I’m certified in EMDR, a powerful approach that helps people heal without having to relive every detail of the past, and I’m also a Certified Narcissistic Abuse Treatment Clinician, having completed extensive training and certification with Dr. Ramani Durvasula. My sessions are grounded, collaborative, and combine evidence-based approaches with practical tools tailored to each person’s unique experiences. When I’m not in session, you’ll probably find me hiking with my Aussie, Joey, or sitting by the ocean, my favourite co-therapist.
