Growing up, I was taught—as many young girls are— to put others ahead of myself. Whether it was being told to let my brothers eat first because they needed more food, or being cautioned to dress in a way that would make others comfortable with my changing body. There was always an unambiguous message hiding in the crevices of everything: your needs don’t matter.
Don’t get me wrong, nothing is as important to me as ensuring the people I love have everything they need—emotionally, physically, financially, etc. However, I’ve learned that continually breaking yourself down to fill in the gaps in others, no matter how small, is nothing short of complete self-destruction.
I used to wonder if I only existed to act as an accessory to those around me, a shiny but insignificant thing desperately hanging around, waiting to be useful. Not many people saw me as the most interesting girl in the room, but I was helpful if you needed homework answers or a silent shoulder to cry on. At the time, I hated myself just enough to buy into the idea that if I did everything correctly, people would like me: I’d work overtime, make jokes at my own expense, and do hours of emotional labor—whatever it takes! But most importantly, I won’t ask for anything in return. Perhaps you won’t love me for who I am, but could you love me for what I can do for you? Can my convenient functionality make you want to stay?
I’m most reminded of this disillusioned version of myself when I reflect on the first person I ever dated as an adult. They got so much of me that I was fully convinced I was nothing when they left. The issue is clearer to me now: I had been so incredibly worried about them staying interested in me that I was willing to give them every part of myself without a second thought. The hope of having a real connection allowed 18-year-old me to endure emotional turmoil and turn a blind eye to the horrible things he did. Ironically enough, despite the heartbreak and pain of that situation, I’ll always be grateful for them because they taught me that being blindly empathetic can have devastating consequences. You can drain yourself dry, and people will still ask for more—you’re allowed to tell those people no.
Looking back, I’m incredibly sad for young me, who thought so lowly of herself that she became an emotional TaskRabbit for those around her. I truly thought there wasn’t a problem that couldn't be solved by breaking myself down and handing out my pieces like emotional life jackets to keep others from drowning.
I’d like to think I’m better at knowing how and when to set boundaries nowadays, but I know I’m not perfect. I still spend a lot of time and effort ensuring I care for those around me. I still abandon my own needs the second a friend or family member is distressed. My fundamental belief system is still rooted in empathy and sensitivity, and I have no plans to change that. That being said, and I understand this will sound hypocritical, but let me be clear: destroying yourself in the hopes of making others stick around or care about you is not beautiful, it’s not interesting, and holy fuck, it's not worth it.
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