When You Don’t Know What You Need (Until It’s Too Late)
The quiet cost of being everyone else’s caretaker
I didn’t know how deeply I was disconnected from my own needs — until resentment started showing up in places it didn’t belong.
I remember one night in the kitchen. My husband asked for something simple. Just one small thing he needed from me.
And without skipping a beat, I said “okay.”
But the look on my face… said everything.
He saw it. I felt it.
In my head, I was screaming:
“How dare he ask for one more thing. How dare he have needs.”
And then he said something that stopped me in my tracks. Calmly, but clearly:
“I think you need to figure out what needs you have.”
That line landed with a thud — and then an ache.
Because the truth was… I didn’t know.
Not really.
For so long, I felt I had only two options:
Go with the flow, or silently resent that no one was meeting me.
I wouldn’t speak up. I’d hold it all. I’d hope — quietly, irrationally — that someone would read my mind and care for me the way I was constantly caring for everyone else.
Inside, I was often screaming:
“What about me?”
But I never said it out loud.
Instead, I’d smile. I’d say “I’m fine.” I’d ask about them.
I didn’t know how to share my struggles, my angst, my needs, my hurts — so people honestly didn’t know I wasn’t okay or that I needed something.
Not just expecting them to read my mind — but believing that I was being clear… when I was actually doing everything I could to hide the truth.
So let’s be honest: that’s just straight-up delusional.
It doesn’t work.
And it never really did.
The Silent Pattern So Many High-Achievers Carry
If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.
In fact, I’d say this is one of the most common struggles I hear from my clients — sensitive, high-capacity people who are so good at showing up for everyone else… but have no idea how to show up for themselves and are carrying resentment along the way.
They’re burned out, overstretched, running on fumes — and still saying yes.
Still making sure everyone around them is okay.
Still pushing their own needs aside because they “aren’t urgent” or “don’t really matter” or “can wait.”
Until they can’t.
Until the resentment leaks out sideways — through tone, tension, withdrawal, or overreaction.
Not because they’re unkind. But because they’re depleted. And because, in truth, they’ve been trying to get a need met without ever naming it.
Maybe you’ve had your own “kitchen moment.”
A small request from someone else that landed like an explosion.
Can you remember a time when you said yes… but everything in your body said no?
Are you secretly holding onto a resentment that the other person doesn’t even know you have or maybe not so secretly?
Why Naming Your Needs Feels So Foreign
Let’s name the real root here:
When you’ve spent a lifetime as the caretaker — the one who anticipates, adapts, and meets the needs of others — you slowly lose touch with your own.
This isn’t just a mindset problem.
It’s a body-level disconnection.
Your nervous system has been trained to scan for external cues:
What does this person need?
How do I stay attuned and safe?
How can I avoid conflict or disappointment?
You become an expert in other people.
And a stranger to yourself.
Needs start to feel… indulgent.
Or inconvenient.
Or shameful.
And over time, they stop surfacing at all — until they erupt.
That’s the thing about unmet needs.
They don’t disappear.
They just find louder, less relational ways to make themselves known.
They show up in sharp responses you didn’t mean to say.
In passive-aggressive silences.
In the tension that creeps into your voice when someone asks for “just one more thing.”
They show up in withdrawal — where instead of reaching out, you retreat.
Not because you don’t care… but because you’ve been quietly hoping someone would notice your fatigue without you having to say a word.
Sometimes it looks like:
Snapping at your partner when they ask a simple question
Feeling resentful that a friend hasn’t checked in, when you never told them you were struggling
Avoiding your inbox because everything feels like a demand, even from people you love
None of this means you're broken.
It means you're overdue to be considered — and you haven’t known how to ask.
Let’s slow down for a second and take a moment to reflect:
What needs have been quietly waiting in you?
Are there signals your body’s been sending — tightness, fatigue, irritability — that you’ve been overriding out of habit?
You Already Know How to Meet Needs — Just Not Your Own (Yet)
Here’s what I want you to hear:
You already have the skill of tending to needs.
You’ve been doing it for other people your whole life.
Now it’s time to turn that same care inward.
This isn’t about learning a brand-new way of being.
It’s about redirecting a strength you already have — one that’s likely second nature to you.
Let me show you what I mean.
There was a time I noticed something small — my husband would have long days away from home, often without breaks to grab lunch. I started instinctively making him a lunch ahead of time. Not because he asked, but because I could see what was coming. I knew how his day would unfold. I anticipated the crash. I preemptively created support.
It wasn’t dramatic. It was just loving.
One day, I paused and thought:
“If I can do that for him… why don’t I do it for myself?”
I started paying attention to my own long days.
The ones where I’d be out running from session to session, barely time to think — let alone eat.
And I began packing myself a lunch. I began carving out time to actually eat.
Not as an afterthought. But with the same forethought and gentleness I would offer to him.
That was a quiet turning point.
I began to realize that I didn’t need to learn self-care.
I needed to include myself in the care I already gave so freely to others.
And the same is true for you.
You likely already:
Anticipate what others will need before they ask
Create structure or softness around someone else’s hard day
Notice when someone’s overwhelmed and subtly adjust your energy to meet them
Those are not just personality quirks.
They’re skills.
And they are transferrable.
You just haven’t been taught to aim that care back toward yourself.
What’s one small way you already care for others instinctively — something no one even asks you to do?
Can you imagine offering just a piece of that same care… to yourself?
A Gentle Practice to Begin
If you’re realizing right now that you don’t actually know what you need — please know, that’s okay.
This is tender territory.
And you don’t need to get it perfect.
Here’s a small, soft way to start:
Take a breath.
Place a hand on your heart or your belly — wherever feels most grounding.
Ask yourself:
What do I feel?
What do I need?
Can I give that to myself now — or later?
Do this 3 to 5 times in a row.
Yes, in a row.
Because sometimes it takes a few tries to get below the surface — to peel back the protective layers and hear the quieter truth beneath your practiced “I’m fine.”
You might be surprised by what surfaces.
Sometimes the need is small: a glass of water, a stretch, a breath.
Sometimes it’s bigger: to be left alone, to cry, to say no.
All of it is welcome.
You might not get a clear answer right away. That’s okay.
This is less about fixing… and more about listening.
You’re Not Asking Too Much — You’re Asking Too Little of Yourself
You are not too much.
And you’re not wrong for wanting care in return.
But here’s the honest shift:
You’re going to need to be the first one who offers it.
That doesn’t mean doing it alone.
It means leading with self-honoring so that others can meet you there.
Start small.
Start now.
And start with the truth:
You deserve to know what you need — and to have it matter.
And maybe you don’t know what you need yet. Maybe the question even feels overwhelming.
But what if simply asking… is a form of care in itself?
Yours truly,
Recovering other-focused resentment building individual
Kristi x
