Growing up with grief and trauma reshapes our understanding of relationships in various ways. Recently, an experience with colleagues brought this into sharp focus, revealing patterns I’ve carried since childhood that many who’ve experienced early loss and trauma might recognize.
I needed letters of recommendation for graduate school – a straightforward request that some colleagues had agreed to fulfill. Weeks passed, conversations happened, but the letters remained unwritten. This is not the first time this has occurred either. Instead, I found myself doing what I’ve done since childhood: listening to their problems, offering support, and putting my needs aside.
The Roots Run Deep
When we experience loss as children, we often develop an acute sensitivity to others’ pain. We become experts at reading rooms, sensing emotional undercurrents, and jumping in to help – skills born from navigating a world that suddenly felt unstable and unpredictable. We can do this in our interactions with others, as well as in our careers.
Like many who grieved too early, I learned to be the person who makes things easier for everyone else. Those of us who experienced loss and trauma often develop an almost reflexive need to care for others, perhaps because we couldn’t “fix” our own situation as children.
The Echo of Early Patterns
My recent experience with these colleagues – offering support while my own needs went unmet – mirrors a pattern familiar to many grieving children:
– Being the “mature one”
– Becoming everyone’s emotional caretaker
– Putting others’ needs first as a way to maintain connection
– Struggling to ask for what we need
It’s as if that early loss teaches us that relationships are fragile, that we must earn connection through constant giving, that asking for help might mean risking another loss.
Understanding the Support-Seeking Paradox
For those of us who learned to be “strong” too early, seeking support can feel foreign or even frightening. When my colleagues shared their struggles, I automatically shifted into caretaking mode – a role I mastered long ago when grief and trauma first taught me that being needed meant being safe and worthy.
The irony? While I’m perfectly capable of supporting others through their challenges, I struggle to maintain focus on my own needs – like these important recommendation letters. It’s a pattern that many who’ve experienced childhood grief might recognize: the fear that prioritizing our needs might mean losing connections.
Breaking the Pattern
Recognizing these patterns is the first step toward healing them. Understanding that our tendency to over-give often stems from early loss and trauma can help us:
– Acknowledge that our needs are valid
– Recognize when we’re reverting to childhood coping mechanisms
– Learn to ask for support without feeling guilty
– Set boundaries without fear of abandonment
The Path to Balance
For those of us who learned too young to be everyone’s rock, finding balance means:
- Accepting that needing help doesn’t make us burdensome
- Understanding that healthy relationships can handle our needs
- Recognizing that our early losses shaped us but don’t define us
- Learning that it’s safe to let others support us
Moving Forward with New Understanding
To my fellow early grievers and trauma survivors who find themselves always in the helping role, your capacity for empathy is a gift, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of your own needs. Those recommendation letters I need aren’t just documents – they represent my right to take up space, have needs, ask for help, and improve myself for the greater good.
Perhaps the most powerful legacy we can create from our early losses is learning to build relationships where we’re not just the helper but also allowed to be human – with needs, dreams, and the right to ask for support.
A Note to Those Who Recognize This Pattern
If you see yourself in this story – always supporting, rarely asking, feeling guilty when you need help – know that these patterns often have deep roots in early experiences of loss. But patterns can be reshaped. We can honor the resilient children we were while learning to be adults who both give and receive support.
The journey from being everyone’s rock to allowing ourselves to need others isn’t easy, but it’s important. Because sometimes, the bravest thing a child can do is grow into an adult who knows it’s okay to ask for help.
Pollen’s got books for that.
