Surviving quietly. Or, ‘there’s no point in making a fuss, I’ll just get on with it'.’
How many times have I said those words? ‘There’s no point in making a fuss.’ or ‘I don’t want to be a bother'.
How many times have I heard something similar in the counselling room. As clients sit opposite me either in person or on a screen and minimise their lives, their pain, their experiences.
They’ve gotten so used to it they don’t even notice, and neither did I.
It’s easy to dismiss our needs and put others first. And there can be so many reasons as to why we do it. But we do it, and we do it without noticing.
The trouble is after awhile a small atom of resentment begins to sit in our stomachs and we don’t really know what it is, we just feel it there niggling, unsettling us. Perhaps not getting the same sense of fulfilment as before when we stretched ourselves too thin for the umpteenth time.
Or perhaps it’s not resentment but frustration. Frustration at not being seen, acknowledged. At the tiredness being pushed aside, at the time you have sacrificed becoming an expectation, thank you’s not even whispered anymore.
I think the worst for me was when I was in labour and I didn’t want to wake my then partner because I felt he needed his sleep. Does that sound like a healthy choice to make? And it was my choice. I decided that it was better to nearly have a baby in the car than to wake a sleeping human because I was pushing one out of my body! Some how that was not big enough, important enough. I didn’t want to bother anyone or make a fuss.
Surviving quietly
And that’s what I did. I survived quietly. I carried the stress, the pain on my own. Almost like a quiet badge of honour, I knew I could manage on my own. I know I can manage on my own.
But it shouldn’t mean I have to. And neither should you.
I am on my own journey, exploring and reflecting on who I am and how I came to be. But each journey is unique and each journey takes it own time and path.
So perhaps for some they had to care for others from a young age, a parent who was unwell, worked a lot or was absent. Or perhaps a relationship where the other was the main focus and it seemed so logical at the time, so reasonable but you got smaller and smaller while they shone brighter. And when they were done you found you were left dim and small and feeling lost.
Maybe the messages you received were about being strong, but in a way that pushed down feelings, something we might call ‘toxic masculinity’ nowadays but I feel can be applied to all people regardless. That stiff upper lip, that keep soldiering on, that don’t make a fuss mentality that keeps so many of us isolated, lonely and struggling to find purpose.
There is hope, but I’m not going to pretend it’s easy.
It may feel as though you are stuck forever repeating the same patterns and behaviours. And this may be because you are not aware of them.
I have most certainly gained awareness but that doesn’t mean everything has instantly changed, become perfection.
It’s always a work in progress. As I have said before I am a people pleaser in recovery, which means even when I understand my behaviour, or notice it I might find myself repeating it. Because change is hard and scary, because we cannot be aware 100% of the time, because I am human, not divine and I will err.
In sessions with my clients it is about noticing the thoughts and behaviours. It is about challenging the ‘I know best because I have always done it this way’ feeling. It is, I’m afraid, about stepping out of that cliched comfort zone. The seeming warmth and safety of repetition that has actually been stifling and limiting you.
Yes it may feel uncomfortable and sometimes people wish they could go back to the ignorance that blanketed them before. To notice means you may need to act and that can suck! Because before you could blame everything else, but now you may need to take responsibility and stop hiding.
Change can happen, and it is true. When we accept ourselves as we are and notice we give ourselves the gift of awareness and that can be priceless.