I’ve Spent My Life Caring What Everyone Else Thinks: Finding Yourself Again in Midlife

“I’ve spent my life caring what everyone else thinks.”

Maybe you've said this to yourself recently.

Perhaps you've always been the one who thinks about everyone else. You notice when someone's upset. You worry about disappointing people. You replay conversations afterwards. You say yes when you really want to say no.

You're the one who keeps things going.

You cope.

You help.

You make sure everyone else is okay.

And then, somewhere around midlife, something changes.

You become tired of it.

Not necessarily tired of the people you love. But tired of always being the one who notices, remembers, manages, smooths things over and makes sure everyone else is okay.

And you start thinking:

**What about me?**

**What do I actually want?**

**Who am I when I'm not looking after everyone else?**

These questions can become particularly powerful during midlife. Perhaps you're going through perimenopause or menopause. Maybe your children are becoming more independent. You might be going through a divorce or relationship change, caring for ageing parents, facing a change at work, or simply reaching a point where the life you've built doesn't feel quite like yours anymore.

Sometimes it feels as though you've lost yourself somewhere along the way.

When being the “good one” becomes exhausting

Being caring isn't the problem.

The question is whether you've become so used to thinking about everyone else's needs that you've lost touch with your own.

You might know exactly what your partner wants for dinner, what your children need, what your parents expect and how your colleagues are feeling.

But ask yourself what you want, and suddenly there is nothing.

Or there are too many answers.

Or you immediately start wondering what everyone else would think.

This can happen when being helpful, easy-going, successful or “good” has become tied up with feeling accepted and secure.

You learned to watch other people.

You learned to anticipate.

You learned to adapt.

And perhaps you became very good at it.

There is usually a reason we develop these ways of being. They may have helped us feel connected, avoid conflict or keep relationships secure. At the time, they made sense.

But something that helped you belong earlier in life can become exhausting later on.

Especially when you reach a point where part of you is saying, **I don't want to do this anymore.**

So what happens when you start saying no?

You might think boundaries will feel liberating.

Sometimes they aren't.

Sometimes saying no leaves you feeling guilty. You worry that you've been selfish. You wonder whether someone is angry with you.

You might even find yourself explaining why you've said no, and then explaining a little more, hoping that the other person will understand.

And underneath the guilt there might be something else.

**What does it mean to you when somebody is disappointed in you?**

What are you afraid might happen?

Will they reject you?

Will they stop loving you?

Will they think you're selfish?

Will you become a “bad” person?

And where did you learn that other people's feelings were your responsibility?

This is one of the reasons I think therapy can be about much more than learning to say no.

From a psychodynamic perspective, we can become curious about where these patterns came from and, importantly, what happens between us in the therapy room when they begin to emerge.

You might find yourself worrying about disappointing me. You might apologise for taking up time. You might tell me what you think I want to hear.

These things aren't failures.

They're opportunities to understand something about how you experience relationships.

And gradually, with that understanding, there can be more choice.

Finding yourself isn't about becoming selfish

You don't have to stop caring about other people.

You don't have to become someone who doesn't care what anyone thinks.

Perhaps the aim is something more subtle.

To be able to care what someone thinks without allowing their opinion to decide who you are.

To be able to disappoint someone without immediately feeling that you've done something wrong.

To disagree and still feel connected.

To have needs.

To have preferences.

To discover what you actually like.

And eventually to be able to ask yourself a question that may have been missing for a very long time:

**What do I think?**

Not what does my partner think.

Not what will my family think.

Not what will they think of me.

**What do I think?**

Midlife can be an unsettling time for this kind of questioning.

But perhaps it isn't only about losing the person you used to be.

Perhaps it can also be about finally getting to know yourself.

Not the version of you who knows what everyone else needs.

Not the version who keeps everyone happy.

Not the version who can cope with almost anything.

Just you.

The person underneath all of that.

If you've spent your life caring what everyone else thinks, you may not need to become someone completely new.

You may simply need some space to discover who you are when you no longer have to be everything to everyone. If any of this sounds like you, please get in touch. I offer a free 15 minute intro call so you can hear my voice and get a sense for how I work.