Is it possible that I could matter, too?
It may seem like a strange question for a woman who knows how much others depend on her. She can see the difference her presence makes. There are people she loves, responsibilities she takes seriously, and work she believes is hers to do. Much of it is meaningful to her. Some of it brings her joy. Some of it feels like duty or obligation.
If you asked whether she matters, she might tell you about those things. Who needs her. What she contributes. What would go undone if she weren’t there to do it.
She has good reasons for believing that what she does matters.
But I wonder what happens when the question becomes whether she matters apart from what she does.
Perhaps she has rarely needed to separate the two. Helping has been part of her life for so long that it feels like part of her definition. She is the dependable one, the thoughtful one, the one who notices what needs doing. She may be proud of that. She may also be tired in ways she finds difficult to acknowledge, because she still cares about the people and commitments that ask so much of her.
Where does her tiredness belong in that conversation? Or her preferences? What happens when she wants something that would make life less convenient for someone else?
She may consider those things, then quickly begin explaining why they can wait.
There is always a reason to put her own needs off a little longer. Often, a good reason.
And yet, a question begins to take shape.
Could my needs be included, too? Is that possible?
How Does She Ever Arrive at Enough?
She may have learned early that helping was a way to express love, live her faith, or contribute to her family. She saw people give of themselves generously and understood that there was something worth following in their example. Over time, she discovered her own gifts and the satisfaction of using them.
There is much in that understanding she may want to keep, and there is much that deserves a closer look.
But somewhere along the way, doing good may have become more than an expression of what she values. It may have become the evidence she needs to feel good about herself.
The shift can be difficult to notice. She feels pleased that she was able to help, then remembers someone else she hasn’t checked on. She finishes something important, then thinks about what remains undone. Someone thanks her, and she explains that she wishes she could have done more.
I find myself wondering: what would she allow to count as enough?
Her standard grows, but her own permission to feel satisfied doesn’t grow with it.
Perhaps no one is asking her to do more at that moment. She has become quite capable of asking it of herself. Expectations she once heard from other people now arrive in her own voice: You should have known. You could have made time. They needed you.
Even when two people need different things from her, she may judge herself for being unable to meet both of their needs. Her own limits become another item on the list of things she ought to overcome.
If she could express the way she measures her worth as an equation, it might look something like this:
My worth = How much good I do + How well I meet expectations − Everything I failed to do.
There is always something to subtract. A need she couldn’t meet. A conversation she handled poorly. A promise she made before she understood what it would cost her.
And when her own needs enter that calculation, they may appear as one more thing taking her away from what she believes she should be doing.
How does she ever arrive at enough?
What If the Problem Is the Equation Itself?
She may answer that question the way she has answered it before: by trying harder. Being more organized. More patient. More generous. Learning to manage her time so she can finally do everything she believes she should.
What if it asks her to prove something that cannot be settled by completing another task or meeting another expectation?
That possibility can be difficult to consider when the rules are woven into beliefs she holds dear. Caring for family matters to her. So does being faithful, keeping her word, and using her gifts well. She may worry that questioning what she expects of herself means questioning those commitments.
I believe there is room to honor those commitments and still question what she believes they require of her.
When did being dependable come to mean she should always be available? How did generosity become an obligation to give whenever someone asks?
She may feel deeply drawn to work or service that gives her life meaning. Perhaps she understands it as a calling—a way to live her faith, use her gifts, or contribute to something she cares about. That sense of purpose can be a source of joy and direction.
But how does she decide which requests are hers to answer? Does every opportunity to serve become something she is obligated to do?
Her calling may be genuine. Her understanding of what it requires may still deserve examination.
Some of those expectations may have been stated directly. Others may have grown from what she observed, what earned approval, or what seemed necessary at the time. She may have made promises to herself without recognizing them as promises: I will never let anyone down. I will always find a way.
For years, those rules may have guided decisions so automatically that she scarcely noticed them. Now, considering a different choice can bring guilt before she has had time to understand what she believes she has done wrong.
She can take that feeling seriously and still be curious about it. Has she broken a commitment she wants to honor? Is someone facing a consequence she needs to consider? Is she doing something unfamiliar that an old rule says she shouldn’t?
The answers may differ from one situation to another. There will be choices she wants to reconsider and responsibilities she chooses to keep. There may also be expectations she can no longer meet without repeatedly setting herself aside.
She doesn’t have to settle all of that at once.
For now, she is beginning to look at the standard by which she has judged herself—and to wonder whether it has made room for her own humanity.
Learning to Include Herself
There may be relief in that possibility. She may begin seeing choices where she once saw only obligations. She may feel eager to try something different, or find herself grieving the years she spent believing she had to earn her place.
She may also need time to sit with the question. A familiar understanding of herself is becoming less certain, and she doesn’t yet know what will take its place.
Recognizing a rule doesn’t mean she is ready to stop following it. When someone asks for help, she may still say yes before considering what she has already committed to. Later, she remembers that she had wanted to pause.
It would be easy for her to make that another failure. “I know better now. Shouldn’t I be doing better?”
But returning to an old behavior doesn’t necessarily mean returning to the same understanding. This time, she notices the moment she set herself aside. She recognizes the worry that someone might think less of her. She can acknowledge that she wanted to help and that she needed rest. Both were true, even though only one had a place in her decision.
To me, that moment of noticing matters. She is beginning to hear herself in the conversation.
The next time a request comes, she may take a moment to check her plans. Perhaps she asks a question before agreeing, offers less than she usually would, or decides that this is something she wants to do. Including herself won’t always change her answer. It can change how she arrives at it.
She may also begin asking what kind of help is needed. Instead of making a phone call for someone, she might give them the number and let them make the call. She can ask what they have already tried or which part they would like help with.
That may feel uncomfortable. She is used to handling things. She may believe she can do it faster or more thoroughly, or worry that the other person already has too much to manage. Sometimes, there are good reasons for her to step in. Other times, she may be assuming responsibility before either of them has considered what the other person can do.
Learning to pause makes room for that conversation. The other person can have a say in the help they receive and take responsibility for what they are able to do. She can offer support while leaving room for their judgment, their way of doing things, and their opportunity to learn.
And sometimes, her answer will disappoint someone.
She may feel that disappointment deeply, especially if she is accustomed to making things easier for others. She may need to listen, consider the impact of her choice, and decide whether there is something she wants to repair. Someone else’s disappointment deserves consideration. It doesn’t automatically mean she has become selfish.
She is learning to make decisions in which her needs have a place alongside the needs of people she loves. There will be times when she gives more because the circumstances call for it. There will be times when she asks others to adjust.
She won’t always feel certain about where that balance belongs. She is beginning to allow herself a part in finding it.
Gradually, she is beginning to ask a different question. Instead of asking whether she has done enough to deserve consideration, she can ask what needs to be considered.
A different equation begins to take shape:
What matters in this decision = Your needs + My needs + The responsibilities and limits we need to consider.
There will still be times when someone else’s needs are more urgent. There will be responsibilities she chooses to honor even when they ask a great deal of her. And there will be times when what she needs changes the decision.
Her needs can be part of the conversation before she reaches the point of having nothing left to give.
Who Could She Turn To?
As she makes room for these conversations, she may begin noticing something about her own relationships. She may be well aware of who turns to her when life gets difficult. But when she needs someone to listen, offer support, or help her think something through, who could she turn to?
There may be people willing to support her who have rarely had the opportunity. They know her as capable and dependable. She may have told them she was fine, or waited until a difficult stretch was over before mentioning it.
Other relationships may have little room for what she needs. She may discover that some people are willing to adjust and others are less willing. I wish I could say that everyone will welcome these changes. Some relationships she values may change in ways she hadn’t wanted or expected.
Building a support system asks something different of her than maintaining a network of people who depend on her.
She has to let someone know what is happening while she is still in the middle of it. Ask for help before she has exhausted every way of managing alone. Allow another person to contribute, even when their way of helping differs from her own.
She may begin with something small. Telling a friend she has had a difficult week. Accepting a friend’s offer to bring her dinner. Admitting that she would appreciate some company.
She may also discover the pleasure of a friendship that grows through ordinary time together. There is no problem for her to solve. They enjoy each other’s company, become curious about each other’s lives, and make room for each other over time.
She is learning that she can belong without always having something to give.
That can take some getting used to. She may still look for something to offer or feel more comfortable listening than talking about herself. Gradually, through the experience of being welcomed, she may begin to trust that her presence is part of what the other person values.
And she may find that she wants more of those relationships in her life.
Enough Self-Trust to Begin
There will still be days when she measures herself by what she has accomplished for everyone else. She may agree to something she wishes she had declined, or decline and spend the evening wondering whether she should have said yes. A difficult response from someone she loves may leave her questioning a choice she had felt good about.
She may need to reconsider some decisions. Others may need time before she can understand them clearly. She is learning to listen to her own judgment while remaining willing to learn from what happens.
She may already trust herself to make important decisions on behalf of others. Trusting her own evaluation when her needs are part of the decision can feel less familiar. She may still look for someone to assure her that she was allowed to choose as she did.
Over time, she begins gathering experiences she can return to. She remembers a conversation in which she asked for help and was met with kindness. A responsibility she handed back to someone who found their own way. A decision that disappointed another person and still feels right to her after careful thought.
Some experiences will be harder to make sense of. Including herself can carry costs, and she may grieve what changes. She may also discover that she is willing to live with some of those costs because she understands more clearly what her previous choices were costing her.
Does she need complete self-trust to begin? No, I don’t think so. She only needs enough to consider that her own understanding deserves a place in the conversation. Enough to pause before answering. Enough to tell someone what she needs.
One stone may be enough to give her somewhere to place her feet.
She can continue to love her family, honor her faith, and find meaning in helping others. She can keep responsibilities she values while reconsidering the rules she has wrapped around them. There is room to discover what that looks like in the life she already has.
“Could my needs be included, too?” may remain a question she returns to many times.
With practice, she may begin answering it in the choices she makes.
Yes, I matter, too.
