09/07/2025
“I’m not here to make people comfortable I’m here to be honest “.
When I read this quote, it really resonated with me. If you’re healing from trauma, compassion burnout, C-PTSD, you’ve probably been a perpetual people pleaser. Something has brought you to this stage where you are “just done” giving.
It doesn't have to be a big thing like car crash or someone’s passing away in death. Those may have already happened. You ignored those events. You had to keep going for everyone’ sake. All of a sudden you just can’t do it. The meds don’t help, you can’t push through anymore, you are utterly exhausted, in a brain fog. No adrenal rush to thrive on. You need healing.
Most times it’s complete body burnout or shutdown.
Others describe it as hitting a wall—the moment the body and mind stage a complete shutdown after years of people-pleasing and suppressing trauma.
These suppressed emotions don’t disappear; they manifest in the body. Chronic pain, migraines, and stiff joints are not random. They are physical symptoms from an overwhelmed nervous system and a body carrying an emotional burden for too long. The body is giving clear signals that it’s time to process those feelings, allowing both mind and body to begin healing.
This isn’t just about feeling tired. The brain fog, exhaustion, and lack of drive are signs that your nervous system is completely depleted. The physical symptoms mentioned—chronic pain, migraines, and autoimmune issues—are the body’s way of holding onto the emotions pushed down, ignored.
This breakdown is actually a breakthrough. It’s the critical turning point where one is finally forced to stop and begin the real healing process: feeling what we’ve long ignored. We have to feel it to heal it.
Maybe you start seeing a therapist to deal with the anxiety and depression. No one knows about these disorders because you’ve hid behind a façade of togetherness. Past attempts to open up were not well received. You’ve learnt it’s best to smile and carry on.
When you’ve built a life on silence and a façade of “togetherness,” a simple question like, “How are you?” becomes a loaded one. It’s not just a casual greeting; it feels like an invitation to lie. You’ve learned that sharing the uncomfortable truths—the anxieties, the struggles, the parts that aren’t so “together”—can be met with confusion, dismissal, or a lack of understanding. It’s a risk that has, in the past, not paid off. So, you stay quiet.
This silence, while protective, is also heavy. It means you’re carrying the burden alone, stretching yourself thin to maintain a sense of normalcy for everyone else. The truth is, the most important questions aren’t being asked, and the ones that are, feel impossible to answer honestly. This makes your journey to therapy even more significant, as you’ve created a space where you can finally start answering those questions for yourself, without fear of judgment.
Choosing honesty over the pressure to “do it all”—is a powerful shift. I’ve not only recognized a personal need for change but also wanted to create a more authentic space for those around me.
The idea of “keeping up with the Joneses” is a common and often exhausting part of modern life. It’s easy to get caught in a cycle of comparison, especially with the curated realities we see on social media. By choosing to be more open about my own experiences, I’m challenging that narrative and offering a different, more genuine perspective.
This kind of honesty has been incredibly freeing. I know others have expressed the desire to come forward get help, or just be authentic. There’s comfort in knowing others might also be struggling with the same pressures. It takes courage to be vulnerable, and by doing so, we’re giving them permission to do the same.
I didn’t want anyone becoming sick while looking at me, wondering how I did “it all”. I was someone who seemed to be doing everything and succeeding at it all. Volunteering, Successful businesses, RMT, Photography with Studio, Airbnb, Spa n Salon, Event planning etc. It was an exhausting pace but I loved the feeling of empowerment, the feeling of being needed and of giving.
I thought, I’ll tell you how I did it all. I was a mess the whole time. I was in pain, debilitating pain. So I faked it. I took Narcotics a lot. I did what I had to. Eating disorders, Mental illness, suicidal ideation (semi colon 4x), Pharmaceuticals.
I fell apart several times, many many times. I never look ill or sick or pain. The interesting part of that is only those closet to me take my pain or illnesses seriously. Add medical trauma to the list.
Through a lot of prayer, strength of faith, my husband, my doctor, my therapist, my sister, and my friends. Humor!! That’s how I did it and how I do it! That’s how anyone of us trauma people do it. I’m not alone.
I learned people who are friends are able to handle honesty, appreciate truths and encourage an open spirit.
Being honest isn’t about being rude or tactless. It’s about being authentic. The honesty described is a building block for genuine connection, not a tool for picking apart friendships. True friends appreciate this kind of truth and are able to handle it because they trust the intentions and value the realness. This approach fosters a safe space for vulnerability and mutual growth.
Why are some better able to “hold space” or have larger emotional capacity?
The ability to hold space for others and have a large emotional capacity is not an inborn talent, but a skill cultivated over time. It is a combination of developed emotional intelligence, personal history, and conscious effort.
Emotional intelligence is the foundation. People who are good at holding space are highly self-aware, allowing them to manage their own feelings without being overwhelmed by others’ emotions. Their strong empathy enables them to understand and validate another person’s experience without judgment.
A person’s history also plays a significant role.
Individuals who grew up in supportive environments where emotions were expressed openly often develop healthier emotional regulation skills. Likewise, those who have navigated and healed from their own traumas may have a deeper well of compassion and resilience to draw from.
Finally, holding space is an active choice that requires conscious effort. It involves active listening—the deliberate practice of hearing to understand rather than to respond—and the humility to let go of the urge to “fix” a problem. This means putting one’s own ego and opinions aside to focus entirely on the other person’s experience.
Understanding friendships changing roles as one heals from trauma is vital. Real and meaningful friendships can be life sustaining. The bonds you’re letting go of aren’t fake or worthless; they served a purpose in a different chapter of your life. They were built on a version of yourself that was likely in a survival mode, where people-pleasing was a coping mechanism to maintain connections.
As you heal, you’re shifting from surviving to thriving, and this changes the very foundation of your relational needs.
The discomfort I felt—that jarring disconnect—was a sign that my new values were taking root. I was now prioritizing mutual respect, empathy, and honesty, which felt foreign to me. If it feels odd to you while healing, it may feel threatening to those who are still operating from a place of unhealed trauma. Their inability to meet you where you are isn’t a malicious act; it’s a reflection of their own journey, or lack thereof.
Releasing the “why” and embracing compassion is an act of self-compassion. This is a powerful step. Trying to analyze or justify hurtful behavior only keeps one tethered to the old dynamic. Instead of focusing on their actions, you can focus on yours: setting boundaries, prioritizing your emotional health, and making space for new, healthier connections.
This is where the distinction between people-pleasing and being a pleasing person becomes clear. A people-pleaser gives out of obligation, often sacrificing their own well-being to avoid conflict or rejection. A pleasing person, on the other hand, gives from a place of genuine abundance and joy, without expecting anything in return. This new way of relating is a reflection of your own healed self-worth.
Acknowledging and grieving the loss of your old life, friends, way of thinking, anything that prevents you healing or moving forward is essential. I’ve learned one can’t heal what one doesn’t acknowledge.
Be honest about what you’ve lost: a part of your identity, a version of your future, and key relationships. It’s okay to feel grief, sadness, or anger; these feelings are valid and necessary for moving forward.
Even though this shedding is a sign of growth, it’s perfectly normal to grieve the loss. The grief isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s an acknowledgment that something once important has ended.
Allowing myself to feel this sadness—without shame or judgment—was and is a part of the healing process. I’m grieving not just the people, but the memories, the shared history, and the vision of a future I once had with them.
In this grieving period, remember to give yourself the same compassion you extend to others. You are not selfish for prioritizing your well-being.
I’m building a new life, a new support system, and a new me—one that is aligned with the courageous, healed person I’m becoming. This is not an act of betrayal; it is an act of liberation.
The paradox of my experience is that losing control over my life is leading me to a more profound and authentic way of living.
I’ve articulated the painful truth that my illness wasn’t a choice I’ve made; it was a demolition of the life I’d carefully built. It took away my ability to make decisions and, in doing so, handed me a new, unchosen reality. The grief of losing what I had was and is immense, yet most days, I manage to see the new life I’ve been given not just as a burden, but as a foundation for a new kind of purpose.
The empathy I feel for others—the desire to protect them from the “sickness” of comparison—is the truest expression of this new path. In a world of curated, perfect lives, I choose to be real. This move from aspiration to authenticity takes strength and courage.
I stepped away from the exhausting race of being a doer—someone defined by achievements and productivity—to simply being a person who values peace, presence, and genuine connection. It doesn’t mean I’m not bothered or struggle with feelings of FOMO (Fear of missing out) every now and then. My journey shows that true purpose isn’t found in what we build, but in how we live.
Being honest isn’t about being rude or tactless. It’s about being authentic. The honesty described is a building block for genuine connection, not a tool for picking apart friendships. True friends appreciate this kind of truth and are able to handle it because they trust the intentions and value the realness. This approach fosters a safe space for vulnerability and mutual growth.
Healing from trauma fundamentally changes what you need from your relationships. As you shift from a state of surviving to a state of thriving, your perspective on boundaries, self-worth, and what you deserve changes entirely. The old one-sided dynamics you once tolerated no longer feel right. This is a sign of your growth.
The person you are becoming needs connections built on mutual respect and empathy, which often means naturally outgrowing friendships from your past. This isn't a betrayal; it’s a necessary step in creating a life that aligns with your new, healthier self.
It feels like a betrayal because the friendships were real, and the bonds were meaningful at the time. We might grieve the loss of those connections and the memories shared. However, this isn’t a betrayal of trust; it’s a matter of misalignment. Growth has created a gap between what we need and what the old friendships can provide.
Losing these friends isn’t an act of selfishness. It’s an act of self-preservation. By letting go of friendships that no longer serve you, you are making space for a new support system. This new system will be built on reciprocity, empathy, and mutual growth—friendships that truly honor the healed, courageous person you are becoming.
Switching from a people pleaser to a pleasing person is a fundamental shift in mindset.
Instead of seeking external validation by putting others’ needs first, you prioritize your own emotional health. This involves self-awareness. Recognizing your needs and making them a priority. Boundaries, learning to say no without guilt. Most importantly self-care, intentionally planning time for personal well-being. This change isn’t selfish; it’s the foundation for genuine, respectful relationships.
When we operate from a place of emotional health, we can connect with others out of a true desire to, not out of obligation.
Moving from seeking external validation to prioritizing our own emotional health. The tools mentioned—self-awareness, boundaries, and self-care—are the foundation for this change. When we operate from a place of genuine well-being, our relationships with others become more authentic and less about obligation.
By sharing these powerful and transformative concepts I hope they offer a clear path toward healthier, more respectful relationships with both ourselves and others.
Honoring the person you are becoming and create relationships that are truly healthy.
Yours Truly,
Rachael
Spa-Ology
