I think I'm the classic middle child; always the peacemaker, the diplomat, the one who thinks about everyone else but not always myself, agreeable. Maybe that's not middle child, maybe it's just me. I was shy too, so a lot of my younger adult life and career was spent pushing myself to do what scared me, and - it felt - to go against some of my natural tendencies. It usually paid off, but it wasn't always comfortable. However, this was really about defending my own views, or even about developing them. As a child, I'd not felt as if my views mattered. As a student, and then a young worker, I had been intimidated by people who would confidently speak up definitively, even when they were definitively wrong! By my late 30s, though, I felt much more confident that before. The humility of a middle child was morphing into someone who could recognise that, actually, I knew as much as (or more than) the people around me, and I felt more able to speak up.
After a few years out as a result of the confidence-destroying ectopic pregnancies and infertility, it picked up, full steam ahead, in my mid-40s. Especially helpful were the psychology lessons of adapting to my life through pregnancy loss and subsequent childlessness, volunteering daily for the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust where I learned and gained confidence from wise women around me, and then later, blogging. My confidence grew as the way I thought and approached life became more one of enquiry and knowledge and growth. I bit my tongue less, felt better able to discuss rather than just agree even when I had questions or doubts, and decided that other peoples' opinions and feelings (mostly) did not matter more than my own.
So I'm still polite, but I don't agree with making myself or my views invisible just to keep the peace. I may not have raised children, and therefore I haven't had to sacrifice my own needs or wants or even opinions in that way, but I've certainly silenced myself for years. And it came to a point where I just said enough. These days I own my views, my opinions, my dignity, my worth. And I'll speak up about it if I need to. I'm still measured about it. Thoughtful, I hope. But I don't want to be silent.
Infertile Phoenix here highlighted a blog post that talks about why women in their forties and fifties (and beyond) suddenly stop biting their tongues. Go and read her post, and then the linked post explaining the neuroscience behind it.
I'm not sure to what extent the neuroscience explains my own transformation - I'm on estrogen-only HRT, but maybe that's not sufficient - and my personal and career development at the time seemed to explain it to my satisfaction before I read the article. But it is still extremely validating to find that I'm not alone in my feelings about previously putting myself last. And that I can be confident in my choices now to put myself first - or somewhere in between, but always with the knowledge that it is up to me, and me alone. It gives me the freedom to be myself. What a gift!
Also relevant:
Gifts of Infertility series: Self-confidence
Gifts of Infertility series: Self-discovery
Your title is the best! Caring less *is* freeing. Once you define what is yours and what is others', it's easier to care for your own stuff and nobody else's. That's how I've learned to care less. "These days I own my views, my opinions, my dignity, my worth." This was awesome to read.
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