CW: CW: Emotional neglect, people-pleasing, self-erasure, difficulty asserting boundaries, feeling like a burden
My parents taught me not to be loud.
Not to ask for help.
Not to demand things.
Not to make a fuss about what I needed.
They were good at scolding me.
For standing out.
For wanting things.
For being myself, and not their image of me.
And the funny, rather sad thing is that decades later, some tiny part of me is still standing in the corner whispering, oh, it's fine, everyone else can go first.
I still make myself small.
I still hesitate before asking for something I genuinely need. I still notice everyone else's needs before my own. And yes, sometimes that is simply kindness. I really am happy when people I love are happy. Their happiness makes me happy too.
But I have needs.
Little ones, mostly.
Little wishes. Little hopes. Little things that matter enormously because they are mine.
And it hurts when those things are ignored.
I don't usually say that it hurts. That's the trick, isn't it?
I was taught not to be a burden, so apparently I became very good at carrying my own disappointment quietly.
And then, occasionally, I reach my limit.
I say no.
I stand up for myself.
I don't give in.
I say, actually, this matters to me too.
And somehow, that upsets people.
Because apparently everyone is quite comfortable with my kindness right up until my kindness stops being convenient.
Then I am difficult.
Then I am unreasonable.
Then I am suddenly the problem.
And sometimes I finally let them see how upset I actually am.
Not because I want to hurt anyone. Not because I enjoy making a scene. But because I am a person, and sometimes the little dam I've been carefully maintaining for years develops a rather spectacular leak.
And then comes the worst part.
I start wondering whether I really was the bad guy all along.
Because I was taught that other people's discomfort means I have done something wrong.
I was taught to swallow my anger, so when I finally express it, it feels monstrous.
I was taught not to be a burden, so when I finally have needs, they feel like demands.
I was taught to be considerate, so I sometimes mistake self-erasure for kindness.
I can write clearly. I can speak loudly. I can be outspoken and argumentative and occasionally weaponise an Oxford comma with alarming precision.
But underneath all that, there is still a part of me that thinks I should stand behind everyone else.
That perhaps I am not quite good enough.
Not quite important enough.
Not quite entitled to take up the space I need.
And honestly?
I don't want much.
I don't need luxury. I don't need fancy things. I don't need to be surrounded by shiny nonsense.
I want enough.
Enough to live independently. Enough security to breathe. Enough room to pursue the little hopes and dreams that have survived all these years.
They may look small from the outside.
They aren't small to me.
They are mine.
So I think that's the part I still don't understand.
Why do people sometimes crush those little things—and then look at me as though they are surprised when the cheerful little octopus isn't quite as cheerful anymore?
Why is my consideration for other people treated as an infinite resource?
Why does standing up for myself suddenly make me the difficult one?
And why, when I finally show how much it hurt, do I end up apologising for bleeding?
I don't want to be demanding.
I just don't want to disappear.
And perhaps that isn't asking for very much at all.
#Personal #Boundaries #PeoplePleasing #EmotionalNeglect #SelfWorth #Healing #MentalHealth
