The Overdraft Was Real: How I Stopped Running My Life Like a 24/7 Validation Station
Photo by Mathias Reding on Unsplash
WARNING, this is LONG! But it’s worth it!
You know that feeling when you’re supposed to show up somewhere and instead of excitement, you feel dread? Not because you don’t care about the people or the event, but because showing up has started to feel like a job?
Yeah. That was me.
For years, I was the person everyone could count on. The one who showed up, cheered loud, validated every update, celebrated every milestone, and made sure everyone felt seen. I was the friend who responded to every text, the one who planned dinners around everyone else's dietary restrictions and budgets, the one who put my own happiness on hold so I could make sure everyone around me was good.
And it worked. People loved it. They loved me for it. I became known as that person, Queenie Love, the one who always has your back, always shows up, always makes you feel important.
But somewhere along the way, I started to notice something: I had nothing left for myself.
The Realization
It wasn't one moment. It was a slow build, a pattern I kept seeing everywhere I looked.
It was the guilt I felt when I couldn’t make it to an event, or worse, when I was running late and people got upset with me. Like my time was their time. Like I owed them my presence.
It was the exhaustion I felt every time my phone buzzed with another text. Another update. Another play-by-play of someone’s day, the same routine, the same milestones, the same everything, and the unspoken expectation that I’d respond. That I’d validate. That I’d cheer. Every. Single. Time.
For years.
It was the way I started feeling inauthentic when I did show up, because I wasn’t coming from a place of genuine love anymore. I was coming from a place of obligation. Of guilt. Of "I have to, or they’ll be disappointed."
And it was heavy. It felt like a burden. Like dread.
That’s when I knew: I was overdrafting. I’d been giving and giving and giving until I had nothing left, not even for myself.
The Examples (Or: How I Became Everyone’s Emotional Customer Service Rep)
Let me paint you a picture.
Years ago, I went on a blind date. I was a vegan at the time, and the guy, bless his heart, wanted to impress me. So he took me to Ruth’s Chris Steak House. A restaurant literally known for meat.
I went. Because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Because I didn't want to seem difficult. Because the people-pleaser in me said, "Just make it work."
I ate a $60 salad. WTH?!
And I never saw him again.
That was one of the first times I realized: I was sacrificing what I wanted, what I literally needed, to make someone else comfortable. To avoid conflict. To keep the peace.
But the overdraft didn't stop there.
Fast forward to this year. I’m planning my 50th birthday party. You’d think that would be exciting, right? A milestone. A celebration. My moment.
Instead, I spiraled.
I couldn't pick a location because I was worried not everyone could afford to travel. I couldn't pick a restaurant because what if someone couldn't afford the menu? What if someone didn't have a passport so I couldn't do a cruise? What if the food options weren't inclusive enough?
I was so overwhelmed trying to make sure everyone else would be happy and comfortable at my birthday party that I just... stopped planning.
I literally gave up on celebrating myself because I was too busy trying to manage everyone else's experience.
Thankfully, someone saved me from myself and offered to plan it for me. But that moment? That was the wake-up call. That was the moment I realized: I don’t even know how to celebrate me without making it about everyone else.
And then there are the daily text updates.
You know the ones. The same routine, on repeat, for years. "I just finished my run." "I’m leaving the house now." "I did my thing today." And every single time, there’s this unspoken expectation that I’ll respond. That I’ll validate. That I’ll be their personal hype person.
For a while, I was. Because that's what I did. That's who I was.
But now? I'm exhausted. I don't want to be everyone's 24/7 validation station anymore. I don't want to feel obligated to respond to every text, react to every update, or be the emotional support system for everyone in my orbit.
And the truth is, some people are close to me because I give that energy all the time. But it’s leaving me feeling more resentful than fulfilled.
The Cost
So what did all of this people-pleasing cost me?
My peace of mind. My happiness. My ability to experience things the way I wanted to experience them.
I missed out on my own joy because I was too busy managing everyone else's.
I stayed quiet in relationships when I wasn’t happy because I didn’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings. I let resentment build instead of speaking up. I even stayed in situations longer than I should have because I thought I could handle the pain better than they could.
I gave away money I needed. I planned events around everyone else's needs. I said "I'm fine" when I wasn't, because I didn't want to burden anyone.
And when it came to my own desires? I put them last. Or didn't consider them at all.
The cost was me. My time. My energy. My authenticity.
The Breaking Point
Here’s the thing: I didn’t wake up one day and decide to stop people-pleasing. It was more like my body, my mind, my spirit finally said, "Enough."
I started noticing the pattern everywhere, on weekends, weeknights, at work, in the community, with my children, with lovers and friends. I was spread so thin I couldn’t even recognize myself anymore.
And I realized: if I keep living like this, I'm never going to have anything left for me. I'm going to spend my whole life making sure everyone else is good while I'm running on fumes.
So I made a decision.
I couldn't keep living like this. Something had to change.
And it did.
#thisismystufftoo
To be continued in Part 2...
