I realized too late that “being needed” was just a way of being used. Now I have to figure out how to find the “me” that got lost. Thank you for shining a light on this.
That realization carries a lot of grief, but naming it is the absolute first step to taking back your life. Please give yourself grace right now. The "me" that got lost isn't gone forever- she’s just been waiting for the noise to quiet down so it's safe to step forward. It happens one small reflection, one gentle question at a time. You are so worth the effort it takes to find her.
This is such a powerful piece, Jennifer. All of it, but what you wrote about what the world deems a "good" woman. The ones who make themselves small and agreeable. The ones who sacrifice themselves for others. The caretakers who never ask for help themselves. Those are messages that so many of us metabolized at a young age, and I can't help but wonder, what would the world be like today if all those little girls had been allowed to be fully and completely themselves instead?
This -- "Who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful?" -- touched some painful memories in me, and brought tears to my eyes. For a long time when I was young, I did not feel my own self-worth, other than throught the eyes of others, usually men (the being-chosen thing). That's how I was raised too.
Yes to everything here. And in my life and my work with others, many women found that alcohol was the easy out to their complete erasure. To never having to or wanted to ask "What do I want?" or "Who am I?". Alcohol finalized the path to invisibility, but still gave us one more thing to feel ashamed about. I am constantly amazed but not surprised at the extent to which we dismiss ourselves, our needs, our desires, our emotional well-being, so that we can be seen as a "good girl". This is powerful and very well written...
Whew. This hit home for me in more ways than I’d like to admit. It didn’t start in childhood for me. It started when I got married the first time. I have been a caregiver in some capacity since I was 21. Abusive marriage, single motherhood, cancer parent and wife. For my husband (second marriage) of 14 years, he’s so excited for our last daughter to graduate. I’m terrified.
At 45 years old, her senior year has taught me that I know nothing about myself outside of being someone to somebody.
I had to sit with this for a minute before I could respond.
You wrote: "Adults often mistake adaptation for emotional health." I want to put that on a wall somewhere. Because that sentence just named something I lived for decades without ever having the words for it. I was so good at adapting that nobody — including me — thought to ask whether I was okay. I wasn't a child who needed help. I was a child who WAS help. And the world rewarded me for it constantly, which made it nearly impossible to see as anything other than who I was.
I didn't arrive in adulthood without a self exactly. I arrived performing one so fluently that I couldn't find the seam between the role and the person underneath it.
What got me was your line about scanning rooms for tension before you can relax. I did that for so long I stopped noticing I was doing it. I thought I was just perceptive. Turns out I was hypervigilant. There's a difference, and learning that difference was one of the first honest things I did for myself.
And the question you end with — who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful — I don't think I can answer that. But I've stopped needing to. Because the woman I became by surviving all of it, by finally turning toward myself instead of away, is someone I'm genuinely proud of. The foundation wasn't wasted. None of it was.
Thank you for writing this. Some essays find you at exactly the right moment. This was one of them. 💕
My personal proof that I’m recovering from over functioning…I finally embrace rest without guilt and boundaries without hesitation. After decades of caregiving and over doing, both feel like luxury, but really they’re just honoring my own need first.
I can totally relate to so much of this. Oldest daughter. Capable caretaker. Then when I started requiring basic mutuality somehow I was asking for too much and the relationship fell apart. And I am ok with that and can actually feel more loving toward them when I don't feel like I'm drowning.
That last question broke something open in me. “Who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful?”
I was nineteen when a phone call turned me into my mother’s mother overnight. From that moment, being needed became my entire definition of worth. I was praised for it. Called mature, reliable, strong. Nobody asked what it was costing me because the adaptation looked so much like capability.
It took a breakdown at 41 and a marriage at 45 that lasted three and a half months to finally understand that being needed and being known are not the same thing. That I had spent decades being indispensable to everyone while remaining invisible to myself.
I’m writing about all of this at The Unraveling, from inside the midlife reckoning, without the tidy ending yet. This piece is the map I wish I’d had twenty years ago.
I realized too late that “being needed” was just a way of being used. Now I have to figure out how to find the “me” that got lost. Thank you for shining a light on this.
That realization carries a lot of grief, but naming it is the absolute first step to taking back your life. Please give yourself grace right now. The "me" that got lost isn't gone forever- she’s just been waiting for the noise to quiet down so it's safe to step forward. It happens one small reflection, one gentle question at a time. You are so worth the effort it takes to find her.
Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.
This is such a powerful piece, Jennifer. All of it, but what you wrote about what the world deems a "good" woman. The ones who make themselves small and agreeable. The ones who sacrifice themselves for others. The caretakers who never ask for help themselves. Those are messages that so many of us metabolized at a young age, and I can't help but wonder, what would the world be like today if all those little girls had been allowed to be fully and completely themselves instead?
Yes. Thank you for calling it out.
This resonated on so many levels. Thank you.
This -- "Who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful?" -- touched some painful memories in me, and brought tears to my eyes. For a long time when I was young, I did not feel my own self-worth, other than throught the eyes of others, usually men (the being-chosen thing). That's how I was raised too.
I felt all of this! Thanks for sharing. I even wrote something with a similar title and grew up feeling this as well!
I was released from servitude when I became a widow at 60. It was really scary at first as my role/identity had been to make "his life easier".
12 years later I feel much closer to understanding who I am. Mostly I feel happier and peaceful.
I am so in the middle of this right now.
Yes to everything here. And in my life and my work with others, many women found that alcohol was the easy out to their complete erasure. To never having to or wanted to ask "What do I want?" or "Who am I?". Alcohol finalized the path to invisibility, but still gave us one more thing to feel ashamed about. I am constantly amazed but not surprised at the extent to which we dismiss ourselves, our needs, our desires, our emotional well-being, so that we can be seen as a "good girl". This is powerful and very well written...
Whew. This hit home for me in more ways than I’d like to admit. It didn’t start in childhood for me. It started when I got married the first time. I have been a caregiver in some capacity since I was 21. Abusive marriage, single motherhood, cancer parent and wife. For my husband (second marriage) of 14 years, he’s so excited for our last daughter to graduate. I’m terrified.
At 45 years old, her senior year has taught me that I know nothing about myself outside of being someone to somebody.
I had to sit with this for a minute before I could respond.
You wrote: "Adults often mistake adaptation for emotional health." I want to put that on a wall somewhere. Because that sentence just named something I lived for decades without ever having the words for it. I was so good at adapting that nobody — including me — thought to ask whether I was okay. I wasn't a child who needed help. I was a child who WAS help. And the world rewarded me for it constantly, which made it nearly impossible to see as anything other than who I was.
I didn't arrive in adulthood without a self exactly. I arrived performing one so fluently that I couldn't find the seam between the role and the person underneath it.
What got me was your line about scanning rooms for tension before you can relax. I did that for so long I stopped noticing I was doing it. I thought I was just perceptive. Turns out I was hypervigilant. There's a difference, and learning that difference was one of the first honest things I did for myself.
And the question you end with — who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful — I don't think I can answer that. But I've stopped needing to. Because the woman I became by surviving all of it, by finally turning toward myself instead of away, is someone I'm genuinely proud of. The foundation wasn't wasted. None of it was.
Thank you for writing this. Some essays find you at exactly the right moment. This was one of them. 💕
My personal proof that I’m recovering from over functioning…I finally embrace rest without guilt and boundaries without hesitation. After decades of caregiving and over doing, both feel like luxury, but really they’re just honoring my own need first.
I can totally relate to so much of this. Oldest daughter. Capable caretaker. Then when I started requiring basic mutuality somehow I was asking for too much and the relationship fell apart. And I am ok with that and can actually feel more loving toward them when I don't feel like I'm drowning.
That last question broke something open in me. “Who might I have been if I had learned I was worthy of love before I learned I was useful?”
I was nineteen when a phone call turned me into my mother’s mother overnight. From that moment, being needed became my entire definition of worth. I was praised for it. Called mature, reliable, strong. Nobody asked what it was costing me because the adaptation looked so much like capability.
It took a breakdown at 41 and a marriage at 45 that lasted three and a half months to finally understand that being needed and being known are not the same thing. That I had spent decades being indispensable to everyone while remaining invisible to myself.
I’m writing about all of this at The Unraveling, from inside the midlife reckoning, without the tidy ending yet. This piece is the map I wish I’d had twenty years ago.
Thank you for writing it so honestly! 🤍
DK, The Unraveling
Being used up. I wish I had realized the difference years ago.
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