Hi Reader,

I've been thinking about something lately.

When did we become everyone's everything?

The appointment keepers. The problem solvers. The emotional support systems. The ones who somehow know when the milk is running low, whose birthday is coming up next Thursday, and apparently, are the only people in the house who know HOW to change the toilet paper roll. 🙄

Seriously. How did we get this job? 😂

And more importantly, when did we decide we were supposed to be good at ALL of it?

I don't think most of us consciously signed up for this role.

Somewhere along the way, we simply became the people everyone counted on.

And for a while, maybe that felt good.

Being needed. Being capable. Being the one who could figure things out.

But I've been wondering what happens when being needed becomes such a familiar part of our identity that we stop asking ourselves what we need.

Not because we don't love the people in our lives.

But because we may have become so accustomed to anticipating everyone else's needs that we barely notice our own anymore.

And then life begins to change.

Our children get older.

Our relationships evolve.

Our bodies start doing things we didn't necessarily approve in advance. 😂

And we begin asking questions we may not have had the time—or space—to consider before.

What do I actually want?

What do I enjoy when I'm not doing something for someone else?

Who am I when I'm not being needed?

Those questions can feel surprisingly uncomfortable.

Especially when we've spent years defining ourselves through the roles we play.

And sometimes, even when we recognize that something needs to change, our bodies don't seem particularly interested in cooperating.

We know we need a break, but we can't relax.

We know we're allowed to say no, but the words don't come.

We want something different, but we keep falling into familiar patterns.

This is one of the things I find so fascinating about the relationship between our nervous systems and the ways we've learned to move through life.

Some patterns become so familiar that we barely notice them happening.

And I don't think the answer is to criticize ourselves for having them.

I think it begins with curiosity.

With noticing.

With asking ourselves questions we may not have asked in a very long time.

Like:

When did I become everyone's everything?

And perhaps more importantly:

What would it look like to make room for myself again?

I don't have a neat little three-step answer for that.

And I'm not sure I'd trust one if I did. 😉

But I do think it's a conversation worth having.

So I'm curious.

Do you recognize yourself in any of this?

If you feel like sharing, I'd love to hear what being everyone's everything has looked like in your life.

And if you'd rather just sit with the question for a while, that's okay, too.

Sometimes the most meaningful conversations begin with something we quietly recognize in ourselves.

With love,
Corissa

P.S. If you're finding that some of these patterns are difficult to navigate on your own, this is the kind of work I explore with women in private coaching. You can learn more or book a conversation with me here:

📖 Order Book: The Savvy Girl's Guide to Thriving Beyond Narcissistic Abuse​

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