Things Nobody Explained

One of the most frustrating things about personal growth is how quickly we become familiar with words we don't actually understand.

Self-trust.

Self-worth.

Self-abandonment.

Boundaries.

Authenticity.

Most of us hear these words so often that we assume we know what they mean. We nod when someone says them. We save the quote. We buy the book. We use the language ourselves.

Familiarity starts to feel a lot like understanding. I'm not sure they're the same thing. Because if I stopped ten women in a grocery store and asked them what self-abandonment looked like in their actual life, I don't think most would have an answer.

Not because they aren't smart.

Not because they haven't done the work.

Because nobody ever showed them what they were looking for.

The advice sounds simple enough.

Trust yourself.

Know your worth.

Stop abandoning yourself.

Set better boundaries.

The problem is that most of those ideas live in theory, and theory is hard to recognize on a Tuesday afternoon.

Take self-abandonment.

It's one of those phrases that sounds incredibly important and slightly dramatic at the same time. Most people imagine someone staying in a terrible relationship, never speaking up, or constantly sacrificing themselves for everyone around them.

Sometimes it's that obvious. Most of the time, I don't think it is.

I think it looks like needing a good enough reason before you'll let yourself want something. I think it looks like talking yourself out of what you already know. I think it looks like explaining away the same feeling for years because everyone around you agrees your explanation makes sense.

If you've ever found yourself saying, "I know, but..." over and over again, there's a decent chance you're standing closer to self-abandonment than you realize.

What's interesting is that the same pattern often shows up as a strength too.

The woman who constantly considers everyone else's experience before her own is often deeply thoughtful. She's aware. She's compassionate. She remembers birthdays. She notices when someone is struggling. She makes people feel seen.

Those are beautiful qualities. The goal isn't to eliminate the pattern. The goal is to recognize it.

Because the moment a strength becomes the only way we know how to operate, it often starts creating problems in places we never intended.

The same thing happens with self-trust.

People often talk about self-trust as if it's confidence. As if one day you wake up, know exactly what you want, and move through life without questioning yourself.

I don't know many women who operate that way.

Most of the self-trust I've witnessed looks far less impressive. It looks like making a decision before you have proof. It looks like honoring what you know before everyone agrees with you. It looks like disappointing people sometimes.

It looks like moving anyway.

What's fascinating is that many of the women who struggle with self-trust are also some of the most thoughtful people I know. They consider different perspectives. They think deeply about consequences. They don't rush decisions. They care about getting things right.

Again, those aren't flaws.

They're strengths.

The challenge comes when discernment quietly becomes hesitation and reflection turns into endless reconsideration.

The same thing happens with self-worth.

People think self-worth is feeling good about yourself. Having confidence. Believing you're enough.

Maybe. But when I look at real life, self-worth often shows up somewhere much quieter.

It shows up in whether your needs make it into the conversation. It shows up in whether you require usefulness to earn belonging. It shows up in whether wanting something is enough of a reason to pursue it.

Most women I know don't struggle to tell me what they want. They struggle to tell me why they're allowed to have it. That's a very different problem.

And maybe that's why so many people stay stuck. Not because they lack information. Not because they aren't trying. Because they've been handed vocabulary without recognition. They know the words. They don't know what they're looking at.

The older I get, the less interested I become in teaching people new concepts and the more interested I become in helping them recognize themselves inside the ones they already know.

Because we can't recognize a pattern if nobody ever taught us what it looks like. We can't change something we only understand in theory. And we can't build self-trust, self-worth, or healthier boundaries if we're still trying to figure out where those things live in our everyday lives.

The pattern is a pattern.

The value comes from seeing both sides of it.

Maybe that's why awareness changes so much.

Not because awareness fixes the problem.

Because awareness gives the problem a shape.

What felt like ten different frustrations suddenly becomes one pattern.

What felt confusing becomes recognizable.

You know what you're looking at.

And that's usually where everything starts to change.