My Son Helped Expose the Limits of My People Pleasing

Confession time: I’ve always been a people pleaser. I am fighting the overwhelming urge to clarify that and to defend myself as I type these words, but in the name of growth, I’m just going to let that fact ring true.

If you were ever looking for someone to say “yes” to most anything, I was your girl. If something needed to be done, I’d be doing it before anyone else could volunteer. My approach has always been, “If I can do it, then I’ll do it!” I’ve pushed myself physically, emotionally and mentally, because I was capable. I’ve never wanted to inconvenience anyone or make a scene. I’ve never wanted to let anyone down. I’ve always wanted people to value me. And, I think most pointedly, I’ve wanted people to need me, because needed people don’t get left behind.

A friend pointed me toward a podcast that, at first, felt too close for comfort. NPR’s Life Kit spoke on ‘How to Say No, For the People Pleaser Who Always Says Yes.‘ Life coach Natalie Lue seemed to speak right to me:

“People pleasing is a response to old hurts and loss,” she says. “It is undoubtedly … a survival and coping mechanism that we’ve learned in childhood and then just continued on in adulthood.“

I had to come to terms with my people pleasing. Was I prone to these tendencies because of young loss? Yep, for sure. Was being biracial part of it? You bet. And then, there was also the fact that in addition to wanting to please others, often to my own detriment, I’ve always felt other people’s feelings very deeply. And because of that, I’ve tended to anticipated the needs of the people in my life. So my people pleasing is also tied to how I perceive other people’s feelings. “How will this person feel if I decide to do or not do this?” It was a lot to grapple with before I became a mother.

Then, my son was born. My priorities shifted. My world completely realigned. And the shaky foundation that I built my life on quickly crumbled beneath me.

I’m sure most mothers could attest to the amount of need that comes from one’s child. But the level of need my child seemed to have for me from the beginning was off the charts. We often joke that when he hugs me (like someone trying to pop a balloon between their arms), he’s trying with all his might to get back into my uterus. It’s like we are one body forced apart into two.

The level of need required by my son combined with the amount of giving that I’m prone to were a recipe for disaster that anyone could have predicted…except for me.

The Biracial, People-Pleasing Empath Becomes a Mom

I’ve always been sensitive, and I generally just thought that I had a lot of feelings. I feel things very deeply, and I’m very sensitive to any environment I’m in. But a couple of years ago, I discovered there was more to it. There was a word for what I was; I’m an empath.

I soak up emotions of those around me, and I feel them deeply. I can literally feel other people’s pain. If someone I’m with is in a bad mood, you’d better believe I soak all that negativity right on up like a sponge, and have a hard time not taking those feelings on as my own.

People tend to open up to me about their problems, and I have a really hard time not taking those problems on. And sometimes, I just experience emotional overload. And even though that can often exhaust me or make me feel like I have nothing left, I struggle to create boundaries or to stop giving.

Can anyone relate yet?

Now if that wasn’t enough to work out, add to that equation the biracial factor. Both empaths and people who straddle racial worlds tend to expend an extraordinary amount of energy trying to fit into their environments. They can also struggle with forming their own identity, and truly believing (and acting upon) the fact that their identity and their feelings matter just as much as everyone else’s. Being a biracial empath is, as a therapist has told me, kind of the perfect recipe for emotional disaster.

Now, add motherhood on top of that.

We welcomed this small being into the world who actually needed me 24/7. Talk about feeling someone else’s feelings! Motherhood took that ‘superpower’ to a whole new level. He relied on me exclusively for food, and he needed me for comfort, structure, and emotional regulation. So when it came to his needs, I can admit in hindsight that I was a bit…extra.

I wanted him to have breastmilk at perfectly-timed intervals. If he cried, I needed to drop everything and attend to him (even if I was working and he was safe with his dad or grandparent). I wanted to make sure he got the perfect amount of sleep, and the accurate number of equally spaced-out naps. I wanted to do everything right.

And while I was spreading all of this love over my son, I was drowning. It’s worth mentioning that I was fresh off of two pregnancy losses, a third pregnancy riddled with anxiety, and a very traumatic labor experience (all while buying and moving into a new house). You probably read that and imagined red flashing sirens everywhere, and that’s an accurate visual. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me, or to anyone, that I struggled with postpartum anxiety and depression. I had run myself completely ragged. And not only was I not asking for help; I was trying to maintain my ‘past self’ all while taking on the new challenges of motherhood.

And as much as I loved my son (like, a love so powerful that it’s, at times, physically painful), I constantly felt drained, like my tank was on empty. Like I had nothing left to give. This was because I was giving and giving and giving, and not doing much of anything to fill my own tank. And any time I managed to do something for me, I nearly drowned in the mom guilt of being away from my little angel.

Whenever I left the house to see a friend or attend a yoga class, I tried to time it during my son’s nap so he wouldn’t miss me too much. I even felt so guilty working that I would come home early just to take the parenting reigns. Even though I had a husband who was equally there and loving and available. Even though I had supportive parents and in-laws who were always more than happy to help out with childcare. There was (and is, if I’m being honest) a constant refrain repeating over and over in my head. He needs me. He needs me. He needs me.

But the more time went on like this, the worse things got, and the more I realized that my resources were not never-ending. They were finite, and they had run out.

Recharging Isn’t Optional, It’s Necessary

Self care to me always felt optional, like a luxury. I think the difference before motherhood was that I never really felt guilty about taking time for myself when I wanted or needed it. I also never ran myself too ragged because I never reached my true limits with people pleasing.

But there is only so much one can give without running out of gas. And I had to learn, postpartum, that self care is not a luxury. It is literally a prescription for when you’ve given too much of yourself away. You have to care for yourself so that you have a ‘self’ to work with. And sometimes, self care simply means saying “no” or “I can’t do it all.”

It was also postpartum that I started reading about empaths (a true lightbulb moment). And everything I read said that empaths most especially need time to recuperate and recharge. Self care is crucial for every person on the face of the Earth. But when it comes to empaths (and I’d go so far as to say especially for empaths of color), radical self care is required in order to regulate. But it’s difficult, as someone who is primarily used to giving, to get comfortable with the concept of taking “extra.”

It’s a process to change your mindset, and I’m actively working on exactly this. But being a mother, and running myself completely ragged in my son’s first year, taught me that I don’t need to fall into that level of suffering and despair in order to earn self care. Self care should instead be essential, guilt-free, and built into every single day. That’s how a (biracial, empathetic, people-pleasing) mom continues to give of herself freely without completely falling apart.

Learning to Set Boundaries

It was also important for me to realize that self care alone wasn’t enough. I could not be the mom I wanted to be and continue to live the way I did before my son came into the world. I needed to set new boundaries, lower my own expectations of myself, and learn how to say “no.”

After I became a mom, I didn’t want to let go of who I was before. I still wanted to be that friend everyone counted on for advice at any hour of the day. I still wanted to make every important social gathering. I wanted to be as active as possible in the theater scene. And I, of course, still needed to work my full-time job to continue to support our family.

But now I also needed to breastfeed and make my son’s food from scratch. I needed to meal plan, grocery shop, meal prep, and prepare food for the week. I had to pump to prepare for any time I’d be away. I needed to constantly sterilize all the pump parts. I had to make sure my son had diapers, wipes, clean binkies, and clothes that fit when he outgrew them every five minutes. I had to research milestones so that we’d have a clue what to do regarding sleep regressions, solid food, teething and bottle strikes. I had to schedule doctor’s appointments. I had to do all of this on little sleep because I was exclusively breastfeeding on the night shift. And I had to do this while carrying my son’s frequently changing feelings as though they were my own.

I remember being hell-bent on attending an annual weekend away with my friends when my son was 4 months old. I wasn’t comfortable leaving him as I was still exclusively breastfeeding him every few hours. So my husband and I packed him and his 5,000 belongings into the car and drove down to Cape Cod for the day. Without going too deep into the story, I spent most of the day up in a bedroom with my crying son, trying, to no avail, to get him to nap. I don’t remember any quality time spent with my friends. I spent the entire day fussing over my overtired son. I was exhausted.

On the flip side, when my son was a bit older and could go longer stretches without me, I’d often rush home from social events out of crippling mom guilt. I’d feel like I needed time with my friends to recharge, but then I’d feel even more strongly that I needed to be home with my son.

As time went on, and as I realized that my life was out of whack when it came to boundaries, I learned that there were some things that I had to reconfigure in my life, and some things that just had to be let go. I couldn’t continue to drown in feeling needed.

I had to learn how to distinguish the creative projects and outings that would fill my tank from the ones that would further deplete it. I also had to learn to trust that the people in my life who truly cared about me would understand if I had to miss a birthday party or a show that they were performing in. I had to trust that I could leave my son for several hours at a time and that it did not make me a bad mother. And most importantly, I had to learn that the person putting the most pressure on me to constantly over-perform was me.

Balance?

I love being an empath, I love making the people in my life happy, I love being biracial, and above all, I love being a mom. But though these are qualities I’ve come to value about myself, they are not easily juggled.

A hairdresser (that I probably won’t see again) once told me that balance doesn’t exist. And as long as I have a kid in the house, I will never find balance in my own life. This stung me so deeply. Was I supposed to just wait until my kid turned 18 to start feeling like a human being again?

Early in motherhood, I’d always look around to see what was going on with other moms. If they didn’t seem to need a break, then why did I? If they were taking time away from their passions without complaint, then I could do it too.

The crucial thing I had to learn, and that I continue to learn, is that just because other moms might not have the needs that I have, that doesn’t make my needs “too much” or “excessive” or “unimportant.” What I’ve needed is to get out of the mind set of ‘what moms should do or not do’ or ‘what moms should need or not need’ and instead, focus on what I need. I am a unique person, so why should I need the validation of what any other given mother needs?

I can give the way I want to give, but I need to be realistic about my priorities. What things are necessary? What things are non-negotiable? What can I reassign? What can I let go of?

My son is always my first priority, so that’s easy. But he doesn’t need for me to be perfect, and he certainly doesn’t need me 24/7. He needs a functioning and emotionally available mother. So I’ve learned I need to ask for help before I’ve hit rock bottom. I have to make sure I’m filling my tank to account for how much of myself I give away. Rather than just riding the empathy train off of a cliff, I needed to learn that taking care of myself allows me (the complete and complicated human being that I am) to survive in my world. And that means setting limits and saying “no” to unnecessary (and often self-imposed) pressures.

‘Balance’ to me means being able to be my full, empathetic self without feeling like I have nothing left. That means checking in with myself, my mental health, and my core values before trying to please anyone else. That means be able to say: This is what I need in order to be me. And it’s non-negotiable. That’s how I’m going to be a great mom, and how I’m going to be the person I aspire to be.