We Were Never Meant to Abandon Ourselves
Lately, I’ve noticed the quiet return of a very familiar voice.
The one that whispers, when things feel uncertain or difficult, that perhaps the problem is me.
That I am not enough.
That if things aren’t working, there must be some personal flaw at the centre of it.
She is a part of me I know well.
This voice once played a significant role in my burnout. In the years before I became unwell, she fuelled my striving, my over-responsibility, my perfectionism. She kept me pushing, achieving, giving — often long past my limits.
And in my recovery, I came to know her intimately.
Not by trying to eradicate her.
Not by arguing with her.
But by slowly learning to meet her with empathy and kindness.
So I’m not surprised she has found her way back lately, under the weight of personal and professional challenges.
And this time, at least, I know what to do.
What has struck me most is how closely this mirrors what I see every day in the midlife women I work with — in therapy, and in my online Midlife Reclaimed community.
Overwhelmed.
Exhausted.
Nothing left to give.
Women who have spent decades giving outwardly — to loved ones, to children, to ageing parents, to workplaces, to communities.
Women who are often the caregivers, the responsible ones, the emotionally attuned ones.
Women who give, and give, and give — often from a deep sense of duty, responsibility, and care.
But also, quietly, from a place shaped by powerful inner drivers:
A need to please.
To make others happy.
To achieve.
To be productive.
To meet high, rigid standards.
To earn a sense of worth, love through being needed, capable, and good.
Perfectionism.
Over-responsibility.
Relentless expectations.
It is no wonder we are so tired.
These were my drivers too.
Burnout, I have come to believe, is not only about workload.
It is about the direction of our energy.
For many midlife women, the flow has been outward for years.
Outward to others’ needs.
Outward to roles and responsibilities.
Outward to perceived or societal expectations and standards.
With very little allowed to flow inward.
And when the system finally collapses, when the body and mind say “no more”, what often emerges is not just exhaustion — but a painful loss of self.
A deep doubt about our worth.
Our adequacy.
Our right to rest.
Our right to need.
And the old inner critic steps forward again, ready to explain why this is all our fault.
The turning point, for me, and for many of the women I work with, is not learning how to give better to ourselves.
It is learning how to come inward.
To begin, often for the first time, a conscious relationship with ourselves.
To learn how to meet ourselves with love.
To nurture.
To listen.
To care.
To comfort.
To set limits.
And to face, gently, the many barriers that stand in the way:
Fear.
Guilt.
Shame.
And powerful societal conditioning that tells women — especially women of my generation — that nurturing ourselves is selfish, indulgent, or wrong.
As Tara Brach, American psychologist and author, describes it, this work is often a form of re-parenting.
Learning to give ourselves what we did not reliably receive.
Learning to become the kind, steady, supportive presence we needed.
I once heard someone say that we often become who we needed when we were young.
I think for many Gen X midlife women, this is profoundly true.
We became the compassionate caregivers.
The emotionally available ones.
The responsible ones.
But the compassion flowed outward.
Rarely inward.
This is the essence of my work, and the heart of what drew me to the work of Kristin Neff and Christopher Germer in Mindful Self-Compassion.
Because burnout recovery is not only about reducing demands.
It is about building resources.
And one of the most powerful resources we can cultivate is a different relationship with ourselves.
A relationship that is:
kinder
non punitive
non-perfectionistic
warm and loving
empathic
human
From this place, women begin to make different choices.
They begin to:
notice when they are overextending
recognise when self-criticism is driving behaviour
reduce demands, not just increase coping
set limits that support their health
and rebuild a sense of self that is not contingent on endless giving
The deeper truth I have come to hold is this:
We were never meant to live neglecting and abandoning ourselves.
We were never meant to build lives in which care only flows outward.
We were meant to have our relationship with ourselves nurtured, encouraged, and strengthened — alongside our relationships with others.
And even if we did not receive that modelling early in life, we can learn it now.
Slowly.
Imperfectly.
With practice.
The work, in midlife, is not to become more.
It is to finally come home.
Take gentle care of you
Shannon
Your fellow midlife traveller 🌻
