This is part 2, following last week’s blog post Why Is It So Hard to Ask for What You Need?
Last week, I was saying how shocking it was when I realized that I had been expecting my spouse to know what I needed, even when I didn’t, and save me, by offering it without being asked. I wanted him to do my work for me.
This was especially vivid for me when my first baby was born. I was drowning in my overfunctioning: putting the baby’s needs first and foremost (which I still think is the right thing to do, since babies cannot meet their own needs), and ignoring my own needs (not the right thing to do), because I hadn’t acknowledged those needs, and I just wanted someone to save me. I was confused about where to draw the line. I was hazy on what I really needed. Even years later, talking about it in couples’ therapy, I was still unclear on what exactly I had needed back then. I knew I wasn’t getting whatever it was, but I wasn’t ready to name it and claim it. And yet, I felt resentment at my spouse because he wasn’t providing it, whatever it was.
After I read The Dance of Anger, by Harriet Lerner, and I released that resentment, and took responsibility for my own feelings, things started to flow. Meditation and therapy had helped me take notice of my feelings and identify what I needed. I started taking risks, reaching out and asking for what I needed. At first, it was very tentative. It was hard because it felt like a huge risk. My dad always told me to keep my cards close to my chest. To me, asking for what you need was exposing that you need something. And this gave the other person power over you -that was my thinking at the time- to give or deny the thing you’re asking for. It felt very vulnerable.
I still felt flat on my face when I did this with some people, but I actually started getting results, for lack of a better word, with other people. In fact, my relationships with those people deepened in a way I hadn’t expected. My life felt richer. I felt braver, and my confidence in my own ability to get what I need grew.
However, I still felt dependent on those people, so there was still this feeling of risk. I think the change to really saving myself (with the help of other people) came through crisis, as change often does. There was a really hard week when I couldn’t reach my otherwise reliable friends. I felt awful, and my dependence was apparent. I applied all my usual self-care practices (walking, contact with nature, meditation, journaling), and one in particular saved me: keep reaching out to more people. I contacted people I had never spoken to before. I contacted friends I hadn’t been in touch with in ages. I just kept reaching out because I knew that what I needed was connection with others. Not for anyone to solve the problem that was causing the very bad week.
It felt amazing. Different people came with different offerings of support. It was heartwarming. I felt cared for, without relinquishing my own responsibility for caring for myself. I guess the opposite would have been to stew in my loneliness and wish someone would reach out to me. I didn’t do that, and so not only did I get what I needed out of it, but a very interesting thing happened: I felt empowered.
Now I knew that, no matter what, I could count on myself (the self-care stuff) and if I couldn’t count on one particular person for whatever reason, I could keep reaching out to more people.
I say Saving Myself because I am responsible for figuring out what I need and what I need to do about it. I say With the Help of Others because humans are relational beings, and self-care on its own is not enough. This is not just another way of powering through a crisis on one’s own, like I used to do. This is brave new way, for me, to really own my needs and get them met.
You gave me a new way to understand and accept many things about my life. I love your blog!