Note 031
Go figure…
I’m listening to a motivational speaker again.
And he said something that immediately made me pause the video and think,
“Okay…why did I need to hear this today?”
He said:
“Don’t confide in people who invalidate your experience.”
And the timing?
Interesting.
Because I had just experienced something that made that sentence hit a little differently.
I was talking to my mom about turning 45.
And if you’ve been reading Overthinkers Notes, you already know I’ve been doing a LOT of reflecting lately.
Forty-five has me looking backward, forward, sideways…
Basically everywhere.
I’ve been thinking about things I’ve learned, things I understand now that I didn’t understand when I was younger, things I would do differently, and yes, things I would never do again.
I don’t have regrets.
I just have more clarity.
My light bulbs are brighter.
I told my mom that.
I said something along the lines of,
“I feel like my light bulbs are really bright right now. I think I have two 100-watt bulbs going.”
And my mother immediately said,
“No you don’t.”
Now, I love my mother.
But I had to laugh.
Because…
Ma’am.
Let me have my 100-watt bulbs!
She basically told me I hadn’t become THAT enlightened.
That I had matured a little, but it wasn’t that deep.
And normally, I probably would’ve laughed it off.
But it made me think.
Because this wasn’t the first time.
A couple of days before, we were talking about my foot.
I mentioned that I might have to seriously consider what my doctor recommended regarding surgery because my foot hurts when I bend it.
Her response?
“It’s not as bad as mine.”
And there have been other little moments like this throughout my life.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing that makes me say my mother doesn’t love me.
She does.
But I’ve started realizing something as I’ve gotten older:
Love and emotional safety aren’t always the same thing.
And that’s an important distinction.
Sometimes the people we love aren’t necessarily the people we should tell everything to.
And that can be hard to accept when it’s your parent.
Your spouse.
Your sibling.
Your friend.
Someone you’ve known forever.
We naturally think,
“Of course I can tell them. They know me.”
But knowing you doesn’t automatically mean someone knows how to hold your experiences with care.
Some people respond by comparing.
“Well, mine was worse.”
Some minimize.
“You’re overthinking it.”
Some immediately try to fix it.
Some turn your experience into their experience.
And some simply don’t know how to sit with you in what you’re feeling without making you question whether you should be feeling it at all.
And that’s where that quote hit me.
Don’t confide in people who invalidate your experience.
That doesn’t mean you have to cut them off.
It doesn’t mean they’re bad people.
It doesn’t mean they don’t love you.
And it certainly doesn’t mean you can’t have a relationship with them.
It simply means…
Be intentional about what you give them access to.
Some people are great for laughter.
Some are great for advice.
Some are great for celebrating you.
Some are great for talking about marriage, motherhood, work, books, makeup, or whatever else.
And then there are those special people who can sit with you when you’re vulnerable and say,
“I understand.”
Or even,
“I don’t completely understand, but I hear you.”
That’s a different kind of relationship.
As I’ve gotten older, I’m learning that not everyone deserves every version of me.
And that’s not being secretive.
That’s having boundaries.
You don’t have to tell everyone everything.
You don’t have to repeatedly explain your experience to someone committed to seeing it differently.
And you certainly don’t have to shrink what you’re feeling just because someone else experienced something worse.
Pain isn’t a competition.
Your experience doesn’t become less valid because someone else’s was harder.
Your accomplishment doesn’t become smaller because someone else accomplished more.
Your growth doesn’t become less meaningful because someone else doesn’t see it.
And your light bulbs?
Honey…
Let them shine.
Maybe they’re not 100 watts.
Maybe they’re 60.
Maybe they’re 200.
That’s between you and your electrician.
But you don’t need somebody else to approve the amount of light you’ve gained through your own experiences.
A Note for Today
Be mindful of who you confide in. Not everyone who loves you knows how to hold your vulnerability.
A Little Something to Think About…
Ask yourself:
“When I share something vulnerable with this person, do I feel heard—or do I leave the conversation questioning myself?”
That answer might tell you more than you realize.
You don’t necessarily need to remove people from your life.
Sometimes you simply need to change what you hand them.
Until the next note,
Your Resident Overthinker