If you've spent your life making yourself small to avoid being "too much," this is for you. Learn how the fear of being a burden creates self-abandonment, people-pleasing patterns, and shallow relationships—and discover the sacred privilege of being worth the effort.

One of the heaviest weights I've carried for most of my life was the fear of being too much.

For most of my life, I've danced around the edges of myself, carefully calculating how much of me others could handle before I became that thing I dreaded most: a burden.

But I learned to do this at such a young age, and was so good at it, that I didn't even know I was doing it.

Perhaps you know this dance too – the one where you give more than you take, speak less than you feel, and constantly scan rooms for signs that you're crossing invisible lines.

Always flexible and easy, going along with what everyone else wants to do.

But what if the very thing we fear—being a burden—is actually an invitation to the deepest kind of connection?

What if allowing ourselves to need others, and letting them need us, is where the real magic of relationship lives?

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." — Rumi

When was the last time you held back your full self because you feared being too much?

Understanding Self-Abandonment: The Burden Belief

Think of a garden where the most vibrant flowers are constantly trimming their own petals, afraid of taking up too much sunlight or soil. What beauty would be lost to the world?

Self-abandonment happens when we betray our own needs, feelings, and preferences to avoid being "too much" for others. It's one of the most common patterns I see in capable, high-achieving women—and it often starts with a childhood wound.

For far too many years, I carried a belief that people only kept me around because I gave them more than I took. I felt I had to ensure I wasn't being more of a burden than I was being useful or valuable. My trauma and upbringing primed me to be hypervigilant…always watching, always ensuring that I was doing enough, thoughtful enough, good enough, and surely, never taking too much.

This hypervigilance in relationships wasn't just occasional––it was a constant state of being. I was perpetually scanning environments, facial expressions, and tone shifts, trying to detect the slightest hint that I was becoming "too much." I'd modulate my voice, edit my thoughts mid-sentence, hold back enthusiasm, all to ensure I stayed within acceptable bounds.

I wanted to be likable, easy to be around, someone who didn't rock the boat. But the truth is, deep down, I can be opinionated and strong-minded. I have a lot of ideas.

Sometimes I think differently than others do.

And I know I can be a lot.

But hypervigilance wasn't just about being likable––it was about survival. Somewhere deep in my psyche, I believed that if I wasn't useful enough, valuable enough, or pleasing enough, I would be abandoned or rejected.

This created a painful paradox: to avoid being a burden, I became a burden to myself.

I carried the impossible weight of self-containment.

What parts of yourself do you keep hidden away, afraid they'll be too much for others? When you downplay your needs to avoid being a burden, who is actually carrying the weight of that sacrifice?

Confronting the Core Wound: "I'm Not Worth the Effort"

I believe in confronting difficult words directly through inner child healing. Sometimes we try to soften the blow for ourselves—for example, to rebrand "burden" as something gentler, like "having needs" or "asking for support."

But there's power in naming the fear exactly as it lives in us.

"What you resist, persists. What you feel, you heal." — Carl Jung

Recently, in a meditation, I sat with this childhood belief, repeating: "I am a burden. I am a burden. I am a burden."

I didn't soften it. I didn't reframe it. I allowed myself to feel the full weight of those words, to let them resonate through every cell of my being.

This wasn't a new idea I was grappling with. I've spent years feeling into and shedding tears around this wound.

But this time, what came back to me in the stillness surprised me:

"And you're worth the effort." 😳

The Childhood Wound Behind Self-Abandonment

Growing up, one painful core of my "story" wasn't just that I was a burden.

It was that I wasn't worth the effort.

I wasn't worth the effort for the adults to try to do better, so as not to hurt me or protect me.

I wasn't worth the effort to encourage me to be my whole self; rather, I needed to adapt and bend to others so they would be more comfortable.

I wasn't worth the effort it would take to ensure I'd not feel like a burden.

I am well aware that many of my perceptions of my childhood were just that: perceptions.

I'm sure my parents and other adults in my life didn't realize that I was perceiving their comments, behaviors, and reactions in this way.

But I did.

This is the deep childhood wound many of us carry:

"I'm not worthy of being loved for who I am, including my messy, needy, dramatic, or burdensome ways.

I have to be perfect. I have to accommodate you. I have to bend over backwards and morph like a chameleon so you don't have to feel uncomfortable, burdened, or inconvenienced.

But then I take on all the burdens. I adapt to your burdensomeness while suffocating my own humanity."

This is what creates the people-pleasing pattern—constantly prioritizing others' comfort over our own truth.

The Shadow of Neediness: Healing Codependency

Let's talk about a word that makes many of us cringe: neediness.

From an early age, most of us learn that neediness is bad––a character flaw to be overcome rather than a natural part of being human.

We hear phrases like "don't be so needy" or "stop being so demanding" and internalize the message that our needs themselves are somehow wrong.

But what if neediness isn't the problem? What if the judgment of neediness is?

"To need another human being is to be caught in the perpetual drift between hope and fear." — Pema Chödrön

There's an important distinction here between healthy interdependence and codependency:

We each have a responsibility to meet our own unmet childhood emotional needs through inner work rather than unconsciously offloading them on others. This is part of mature adulthood––recognizing where our wounds live and doing the healing work.

This doesn't mean we shouldn't have needs or ask for help. Rather, it means understanding the difference between healthy interdependence (asking for support while taking responsibility for our healing) and codependency (using others as emotional band-aids for our unhealed wounds).

When I expect my partner to make me feel worthy because my parents couldn't, that's outsourcing my emotional healing. When I allow my partner to care for me during illness while I practice self-compassion, that's healthy relationship connection.

In our culture of radical individualism, we've lost sight of an essential truth: humans evolved to need each other.

Our nervous systems are designed for co-regulation. Our psyches develop in relationship. Our entire biology assumes connection with others. And to deny this is to deny our fundamental nature.

When was the last time you allowed someone to meet a need you could have met yourself? How did it feel to receive that care?

The Sacred Truth: We All Burden Each Other

What if we all just acknowledged that we are, at various times, burdens to one another?

And what if that's not a flaw in the design of relationships, but the very point of them?

In recent conversations with a friend, we were grappling with the concept of being a burden in relationships. We came to see that there really is a sweetness in recognizing we all have ways we can be a burden on others, and that this is actually part of what it means to be in authentic relationships.

Until we face and contend with our internalized belief that being a burden—having needs, desires, or preferences—is bad, we often end up in people-pleasing, self-abandoning dynamics. Or even avoiding relationships altogether.

But the reality is, there are countless ways we burden each other:

• When you have a stomach bug and your partner cleans out your puke bowl

• When your spouse becomes your caregiver after a chronic illness diagnosis

• When you receive bad news, and your friend changes plans to be with you

• When your partner puts their career on hold so you can pursue a significant opportunity

• When you lose someone and your grief process takes longer than loved ones feel it should

I'm slowly learning that these moments of being "too much" aren't failures of relationship—they're opportunities for it.

They're the places where love proves itself real.

Ram Dass and the Gift of Dependency

Ram Dass, a spiritual teacher I've learned from for years, suffered a debilitating stroke in 1997 that left him partially paralyzed. Rather than seeing his sudden dependency as a tragedy, he came to view it as "fierce grace."

"My physical limitations made me dependent on others," he wrote. "I'd been such a helper—that was my thing! Now I had to ask, 'How can you help me?'"

What's remarkable about Ram Dass's perspective is how he reframed what many would consider a devastating loss of independence.

"The stroke has given me another way to serve people. It lets me feel more deeply the pain of others; to help them know by example that ultimately, whatever happens, no harm can come."

His experience teaches us that there is a profound spiritual opportunity in becoming the one who needs help rather than always being the helper.

And let's not wait to have a stroke to learn how to allow others to help US!

The Reality of Setting Boundaries and Capacity

This isn't a one-sided equation.

Being willing to be a burden doesn't mean ignoring others' limitations or boundaries in relationships.

It's a dance between authenticity and responsibility.

When we show up in our authenticity, personal responsibility, and emotional maturity—and when we're doing the best we can—then we each will have times when we're a burden.

And we're also willing to be there for one another's burdensome ways.

But crucially important is that people must be entitled to say no or not now.

We're all allowed to be at our capacity, to not be able to meet another's needs in a given moment.

Now that I've healed this wound through emotional healing and inner work, it's clear to me that this isn't proof that we're not worth the effort; it's recognition that no one is more important than another's limits and self-care needs.

It's always a dance between "How can I be there for you?" and "How can I do so without abandoning myself?"

Getting Real: You ARE Too Much Sometimes (And That's Okay)

Let's be honest with ourselves:

You ARE too much sometimes.

I am too much sometimes.

You ARE a burden or will be at times.

We ALL can be.

That's part of being human in relationships.

The question becomes: Can we accept this? Can we sit with the idea that everyone is a burden at times, and everyone is too much at times?

This is what makes relationships more than just transactional, superficial, or fair-weather friendships.

We grapple with this together, we learn to set boundaries, we make sacrifices, we bend and flex, and we also have limits.

We are nourished both by being the helper and by being helped—by surrendering to others' sacrifices they make for us, and by making sacrifices for them.

In which relationships do you feel free to be "too much" sometimes? Where do you feel safe to need and be needed?

Turns Out, I AM Worth the Effort

I'm so blessed with a husband, family, and friends who have shown me that I really am worth the effort.

Yes, I've had to heal this wound through self-abandonment recovery, including learning to receive from others.

But they've also validated it to be true.

The people in my life who have put in effort – real effort – didn't do so because I've earned it through perfect behavior.

They did it because they believe I'm worth it:

→ My friend who sits with me as I process the same struggle in 100 different ways until I finally find myself and what's true for me.

→ My husband, who initially fought to save our marriage and was not interested in personal growth, has come around to grow with me because he loves me that much.

This realization that I am worth the effort represents years of inner work.

It had to start with ME believing that I'm worth my OWN effort. My own effort to love and value myself. My own acceptance of my true and whole self, including the needy, burdensome (shadow) parts, too.

When we carry a childhood belief, it can become so ingrained that it seems inconceivable that it's NOT true.

It requires courage to question those beliefs and slowly replace them with beliefs that are more true. More nourishing. And more life-enriching.

To My Functional Self-Abandoners

I want to speak directly to those of you who, like me, might be what I call "functional self-abandoners." You're competent, reliable, and everyone's rock. You take pride in being the person others can count on.

You're good at taking care of yourself.

So good that you rarely let others see your struggle.

This pattern has probably served you well in many ways. Your independence is a real strength.

However, there is a shadow side when self-sufficiency becomes a shield against vulnerability in relationships.

Ask yourself:

• Do I feel uncomfortable when others do things for me?

• Am I quick to say "I'm fine" when I'm not?

• Do I pride myself on never "bothering" others with my problems?

• Do I feel secretly resentful that others don't support me the way I support them?

If you answered yes to these questions, you might be caught in high-functioning self-abandonment. The path forward isn't necessarily dramatic change, but small experiments in allowing yourself to receive.

Next time someone offers help, try saying "Yes, thank you" instead of "I've got it."

Notice the discomfort. Breathe through it. There's healing in that space.

The Whole Soul Way™: Your Roadmap for Healing Self-Abandonment

If this exploration of self-abandonment and the fear of being a burden resonates with you—if you recognize that you've been making yourself small to stay "acceptable"—The Whole Soul Way™ was created for exactly this journey.

This comprehensive foundational course (available free on my ELATE podcast on YouTube and podcast channels) guides you through 39 transformative lessons that teach you how to stop abandoning yourself and come home to your wholeness.

You'll learn how to:

• Heal the childhood wounds that taught you your needs make you a burden

• Practice inner child healing to reparent the parts of you that learned to be "easy" and "flexible" to survive

• Break patterns of people-pleasing so you stop betraying yourself to keep others comfortable

• Develop healthy boundaries that honor both your needs and others' capacity

• Distinguish between codependency and healthy interdependence in your relationships

• Regulate your nervous system so you can tolerate the vulnerability of having needs

• Build self-worth that's not based on being useful, accommodating, or never being "too much"

• Practice receiving without shame, guilt, or the need to immediately reciprocate

This isn't about becoming selfish or demanding—it's about finally believing you're worth the effort, exactly as you are.

So much awaits you on this adventure of reclaiming your worthiness and ending self-abandonment.

Start your journey here…

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What "burden" have you been carrying alone that, if shared, might actually deepen a relationship instead of damage it? And what's stopping you from sharing it? Share in the comments below.