For most of my life, I’ve felt like I had to keep things calm. Smooth. Peaceful. Easy.
Not for me.
For everyone else.
And I think I know when that started.
When I was a kid ,maybe around six , my mom left me with my grandpa for what felt like forever.
In reality, it was probably only a week.
But at that age, a week with no explanation might as well be a lifetime.
I remember the confusion. I remember the ache. I remember this heavy sense that I’d been left behind and didn’t matter. And the worst part? Nobody explained anything. It just happened.
That’s when something in me shifted.
That’s when I learned to be “good.”
To be quiet. Easy. Non-confrontational.
To not give anyone a reason to leave again.
I carried that same feeling into every relationship I’ve ever had thinking it was about childhood or insecurity or just bad luck.
I never once thought it was ADHD.
But now I see how deep the connection goes.
ADHD and People Pleasing: The Setup
I’ve learned that my ADHD is a major part of why I do this.
And no, it’s not just about forgetting keys or zoning out in conversation. ADHD messes with your entire emotional system.
For me, it looks like this:
Rejection Sensitivity (RSD): If I feel like someone’s upset with me, my brain spirals. A sigh, a cold tone, silence. It all hits like a punch to the chest.
Masking: I’ve gotten good at becoming what people want. I read the room. I adjust. I make sure I don’t take up too much space.
Emotional Dysregulation: When I finally hit my limit, it comes out too intense. Too raw. And then I look like the problem.
Identity Confusion: After years of changing for other people, I honestly don’t know who I am sometimes. Am I this version, or just what I’ve learned to be so I don’t get left?
The Cost of Being “Easygoing”
The world loves a low maintenance person until that person needs something.
In my relationships, I’ve made it easy for people to forget I have boundaries too. So when I finally say, “Hey, that wasn’t okay,” I get hit with “Why are you being so sensitive” or “You’re overreacting.”
And that hurts in a way that goes deeper than the moment. It hits every part of me that’s ever felt not enough, or too much, or just wrong for existing the way I do.
When I Finally Speak Up
It’s not pretty. I stumble. I over explain. I second guess myself.
And sometimes, I say nothing at all and then explode later.
Not because I want to fight, but because I’ve been pushing my voice down for so long, I don’t know how to let it out gently.
And when the other person doesn’t understand that. When they shut down, withdraw, or call it quits over something small. It just confirms every fear I’ve been carrying.
“See? This is why you stay quiet.”
“This is why you don’t ask for anything.”
“This is why you play nice, even when it hurts.”
The Pattern I’m Breaking
I’m tired of apologizing for having feelings.
I’m tired of resetting relationships like nothing happened.
I’m tired of earning love through silence.
This isn’t about being dramatic. It’s about finally being real.
I don’t want to keep bending myself into someone else’s comfort zone while shrinking away from my own.
So How Do You Start Understanding Who You Are?
You start by realizing you’ve been programmed.
By trauma. By ADHD. By rejection. By survival.
You’ve been performing for so long, it makes sense you don’t know who you really are underneath it.
But here’s where it starts.
You get quiet with yourself. Not to avoid people — but to actually hear your own voice again.
You start asking yourself the questions you’ve avoided:
What actually pisses me off?
What do I enjoy when nobody’s watching?
If I stopped trying to be liked, how would I act differently?
You pay attention to when the mask kicks in and you name it.
“This isn’t me. This is me trying not to be abandoned.”
You build small boundaries. You pause before saying yes. You take longer to reply. You stop fixing everyone else’s comfort before checking in with your own.
You stop proving your worth through usefulness.
What does that actually mean ?
“Stop proving your worth through usefulness” means this:
You are not valuable because you’re easy to be around.
You are not lovable because you’re low-maintenance.
You are not worthy because you do things for others, or fix things, or stay quiet.
But that’s exactly what many of us were taught, explicitly or subtly ,from the moment we were young.
We learned:
If I behave, I won’t be abandoned.
If I make people laugh, they won’t be mad at me.
If I don’t cause trouble, I’m easier to keep around.
If I’m helpful, maybe they’ll love me.
So we became useful instead of whole.
We read the room. We adjusted. We became therapists, entertainers, peacekeepers. And we got really good at it , so good that people stopped seeing us at all. They just saw the version of us that made their life easier.
The cost?
You don’t know who you are when nobody needs anything from you.
You feel guilty resting.
You panic when you aren’t “contributing.”
You don’t speak up when things bother you because “I don’t want to make it about me.”
You confuse being needed with being loved.
Breaking this pattern means asking yourself:
If I stopped being helpful, would they still want me around?
If I didn’t bend, would they stay?
If I say what I need, will I still feel safe here?
And if the answer to those questions is no …
Then the problem was never you not being useful enough.
It’s that you were only ever loved for what you could do, not who you are.
You are not a tool. You’re not an accessory to someone else’s comfort.
You are not a problem to be tolerated.
You are a person to be known.
And that starts when you stop proving your worth and just start existing like you deserve to.
Because you do.
You’re not late to figuring yourself out.
You’re right on time.
That feeling in your chest right now? That’s not confusion.
That’s you finally waking up.
Needless to say, after a couple of years without it, I’m going back to therapy.
This breakthrough didn’t just give me clarity , it reminded me I still have work to do.