Do you remember the first time you asked for one of your needs to be met? You might think you do this on the daily, but I’d encourage you to think more, think deeper.
I grew up with preoccupied parents; most of us do. I was rarely asked what I wanted or needed, although I got a plethora of directions and advice. Sure, I had wholesome say in the guy I married, partial say in my first career, and no say in what religion to follow or how long to stay out at work events at the ripe age of 27.
I’m not blaming them because I don’t think they had a solid grasp of their needs either. It’s not fair to blame a blind person because they can’t see colors. They also didn’t know how to ask for their needs from each other; my dad would usually flip out, and my mom would be moody and silent for weeks.
When I was married, I didn’t know how to ask for my needs as well. I planned my ex-husband a 30th surprise birthday party, although he wasn’t big about celebrating his birthday. I was sly about asking him to understand my emotional needs. I acted chill when he prioritized his family over me, until a beast in me arose, a beast I didn’t know lived in my stomach pit.
But I don’t really blame that version of me because she didn’t know how to express her needs calmly; no one taught her. She did her best with what she knew. In my coaching and speaking engagements now, I honor her by specializing in difficult conversations.
After my divorce, I went to therapy for the first time in my life, and I took an online course on relationship communication. All this had my next ex experience me much better, although the beast would rear its protective head again, and he would not approve of this part of me.
After about two and a half months of dating him, I made the decision to speak up for my needs. We usually went on walks around his area, and on our last such walk – we had no idea it was the last one – as we finished the last lap around the block, I asked if we could go on one last lap. My stomach knotted and knitted on this lap as I played out a few scenarios in my head. I don’t remember anything we spoke about on this last lap.
As the lap was ending, I told him I’d like to chat a bit. We found a bench next to an underground car park that faced away from a kids’ park. “Is this about defining our relationship?” he asked as we sat. “No, no, I think we’re still getting to know each other before that,” I responded.
“It’s really hard for me to read you. So, I’m not sure if you really like me. I feel this way because we’re not seeing each other as much as I’d like to. If you don’t like me, that’s okay, but I just need to know where I stand.” My heart was thumping, making my tone rise and fall with no rhyme, reason, or stage tactic.
“Even in my previous relationship that lasted about a year, we only met once every two weeks. But I do really like you,” he squeezed my left thigh over the ripped jeans. He always sat to my left.
“That won’t really work for me. I like you and want to get to know you more. I want to meet at least once a week.” My voice continued to stabilize, riding the wave of his reassurance.
“Okay, if you want to hang out every week, we can do that. I used to want that in the past in other relationships, but the other parties didn’t. So, I guess I’ve just taken a step back with everyone now,” he declared.
This was the first time I ever spoke up for a need at the right time, directly and with zero manipulation. And to my giddy surprise, my ex reacted much better than I had expected. However, we could not meet on a weekly cadence afterwards because he fell ill one week, and the other week, he had some family commitments. My beast protected me, and we broke up.
Because he received my first-ever proper difficult conversation well, and I believed that I had finally met someone who wanted to meet my needs, I was heartbroken when he couldn’t keep his word or even acknowledge that he wasn’t keeping his promise. The cozy love rug had been dragged from under me and thrown out into the winter storm.
Your first time doing anything holds a special place in your heart. Maybe this is why it’s taken me over three years to get over a three-month dating relationship.
