Stop Abandoning Yourself to Keep the Peace
How to reconnect with your intuition, build real confidence, and stop making yourself small in your marriage, your work, and your life.
There is a question that has stayed with me:
How do we stay connected to ourselves while deeply connected to someone else? And how do we find our way back when we realize we haven't?
I see this all the time, especially with high-achieving women. We are so busy doing, performing, proving, and trying to keep everybody happy that somewhere along the way, we completely abandon ourselves.
We stop checking in with what we want. We soften our opinions. We say, “Whatever you think,” when we actually have something to say. We keep the peace, but often at the expense of our own peace.
And we tell ourselves we just need to be more confident.
But what if confidence isn't something we need to chase? What if it comes from learning how to be present with ourselves?
What if the work is less about becoming someone new and more about coming home to who we already are?
Rest Is Not a Reward for Doing Enough
We live in a world that constantly tells us to hurry up. Do more. Perform more. Prove more. Earn more.
And when we finally stop, we often don't know what to do with ourselves.
Rest can feel uncomfortable. We might take a break, but fill it with scrolling, watching something, or consuming more information. Sometimes those things are enjoyable, but they don't always leave us feeling rested. We might end up feeling even more anxious, more wired, or simply worse.
Real rest can be as simple as sitting still and allowing ourselves to feel the discomfort of not constantly moving forward.
It can be a slow walk. Five minutes with your face in the sun. A moment of quiet.
The practice is learning to stop.
One of the simplest places to begin is at a stoplight. Most of us have a knee-jerk reaction when the light turns yellow: speed up so we can get through before it turns red. We are always trying to get ahead.
But what if yellow became a signal to slow down?
At a red light, you don't have to do anything. You can check in with yourself.
How am I feeling? Am I anxious? Am I listening to something that's making me feel worse? Do I actually need that coffee, or am I already wired?
You can choose to turn off the news, sit in silence, or call a friend.
These are small, low-stakes moments when you begin to take ownership of your choices. And those little moments matter. They are practice for the higher-stakes situations: difficult conversations with a client, speaking up in a meeting, or saying something important to your spouse.
You are training your system to know that it is safe to slow down.
Rest is not the opposite of productivity. Sometimes it is the most productive thing you can do.
You Don't Have to Choose Between Your Ambition and Your Family
Women are often told that they need to find balance between motherhood, marriage, and their work.
But I love the idea of harmony instead.
Balance can sound like everything needs to be equal all the time. Harmony recognizes that some seasons require more of one thing than another.
There may be times when you work longer hours and miss a carpool or recital. There may be other times when you call into work, arrive later, or aren't as accessible because your family needs you.
That doesn't automatically mean you're failing in either place.
What matters is that you build relationships and systems where people understand that your presence and commitment aren't measured by whether you're physically available every single moment.
The challenge is learning to notice what's happening inside you when guilt shows up.
Instead of immediately reacting to the guilt, slow down. Get clear on what matters to you. Each morning, you might ask yourself:
Which of my core values do I want to lead with today?
Maybe today you need to lead with freedom. Maybe it's connection. Maybe it's courage.
Your intuition may help you recognize what is needed, even before you fully understand why.
The more you fuel what matters to you, the more capacity you can create for the other parts of your life. Your ambition and your family don't have to be enemies.
And in a world that is constantly telling women to hurry up, slowing down on your own terms can be a powerful act of self-leadership.
Your Intuition Is Stronger Than Your Conditioning
Intuition can sound like a mysterious, “woo-woo” concept. But it doesn't have to be.
Think of it as information you can access when you slow down enough to listen to yourself.
Sometimes you just know. You may not be able to explain it immediately, but there is a sense of recognition in your body.
The problem is that many of us have become so conditioned to live in our heads that we don't know how to hear it.
We judge our thoughts. We anticipate what other people might think of us. We try to predict how someone will react before we've even said what we want to say.
And often, when intuition gives us information, we mistake it for an instruction to act immediately.
You might think, My intuition is telling me I need to change jobs, or I need to have this conversation right now.
But intuition is giving you information. It isn't necessarily telling you to rush.
Sometimes your ego takes that information and turns it into urgency. You act too quickly, and afterward you realize you softened your message, became too aggressive, or didn't communicate what you actually meant.
The practice is to slow down enough to notice the information without immediately acting on it.
Start in low-stakes situations.
If you always order the same breakfast, try something different. If you usually go to the same restaurant, notice whether you feel drawn to another place. These small choices help you practice listening to yourself instead of automatically following what is familiar.
And when a thought comes up, notice it without immediately judging it.
There is a concept called mindsight, discussed by Dr. Dan Siegel, that captures this beautifully: when you can hear your thought, you are also able to see your thought.
You create space between yourself and the thought.
Instead of being completely caught up in it, you can observe it.
That space is important because our brains often prefer familiarity over unfamiliarity. Even when a familiar pattern isn't serving us, it can still feel safer than doing something new.
The more you practice noticing your thoughts without getting hooked into them, the more room you create for intuition to come through.
Self-Abandonment Is Often an Attempt to Protect Yourself
Why do we make ourselves small?
Why do we say yes when we want to say no? Why do we keep our opinions to ourselves? Why do we leave conversations feeling frustrated, disappointed, or disconnected from ourselves?
There are many reasons.
Some of it comes from conditioning: our families, our schools, our friendships, and the expectations society places on women.
Some of it comes from the desire to be seen as a giver. We learn that giving is good and taking is bad. We learn that saying no might disappoint someone. We learn that being agreeable keeps relationships intact.
And sometimes, self-abandonment is a way of protecting ourselves.
It can feel safer to reject ourselves before someone else has the chance to reject us.
We tell ourselves that we don't really care. We don't have an opinion. Whatever someone else wants is fine.
But then we leave the situation feeling awful.
That feeling is often a sign that something is out of alignment. We knew, intuitively, that we weren't being true to ourselves.
The word integrity comes from the idea of being whole. When we abandon ourselves, we can feel as though we have stepped away from that wholeness.
And because we have practiced self-abandonment for years, it can be difficult to stop.
Our brains recognize the familiar pattern and tell us, This is what you do. This is how you stay safe.
When we begin to do something different, we can feel anxious. We might worry that we're being aggressive, difficult, or unkind.
But having a voice is not the same thing as being unkind.
You can be loving and still have boundaries. You can care about someone and still disagree with them. You can want to keep a relationship and still tell the truth about what you need.
The discomfort you feel when you stop abandoning yourself doesn't necessarily mean you're doing something wrong.
It may simply mean you're doing something unfamiliar.
Confidence Is a Byproduct of Presence
One of the biggest misunderstandings about confidence is that we treat it like something we need to achieve.
We think confidence is on the other side of the interview, the presentation, the conversation, or the moment when someone finally approves of us.
We hand over an enormous amount of responsibility to other people.
If they think I'm credible, I'll feel confident.
If they like what I say, I'll feel confident.
If they respond positively, I'll know I did it right.
But when we base our confidence on how other people respond to us, we give away our power.
Confidence is not something you have to manufacture. It is often a byproduct of being present.
When you're fully present with another person, you're engaged. You're listening. You're focused on the conversation instead of constantly monitoring yourself.
You're not thinking, Do I sound confident? Do I look credible? Does this person think I'm smart?
You're actually there.
And that presence creates confidence.
Attention is one of the most respectful things you can give another person, especially in a world filled with distraction. When you're focused on the person in front of you, you're showing respect for them and for yourself.
The same is true when you're sharing an idea, pitching a client, or speaking in a meeting.
If your focus is on yourself, you might spend the entire experience wondering whether you look confident.
But if your focus is on the message, the person you're serving, or the problem you're trying to solve, your energy shifts outward.
You're no longer trying to prove yourself. You're trying to communicate something meaningful.
And confidence naturally follows.
Focus Is Fierce
When you're focused, you can come across as confident, assertive, or even intimidating.
But how someone perceives you is not entirely within your control.
You can share an idea and notice someone squinting, shaking their head, or looking confused. Your instinct might be to assume they don't like you or think you're wrong.
But you don't actually know what they're thinking.
Maybe they're confused. Maybe they're considering something. Maybe they're thinking about an entirely different subject.
Instead of taking their reaction personally, you can get curious.
You can pause and ask, “Are there any questions?”
You can acknowledge that the information is new and invite people to follow up.
Curiosity and compassion create more connection than criticism and judgment.
When you are grounded in yourself, you can hold space for someone who thinks differently from you. You don't have to run away from the room because someone doesn't understand you. You don't have to shut down because someone disagrees.
You can stay present.
This is something we can practice before the high-stakes moments, too.
If you're preparing for a keynote, a presentation, or an important conversation, ask yourself:
What is the worst thing I imagine someone might say or do?
Then practice it.
Role-play the situation. Imagine the response that might throw you off. Give your nervous system an opportunity to experience it before you're actually in the room.
Your brain may want to choose the ending that feels most familiar. It may want to prove that you're not credible, that you aren't good at public speaking, or that you shouldn't have shared your idea.
But you have more than one possible ending.
You can prepare yourself to stay present even when someone responds in a way you don't expect.
And remember: not everyone is supposed to be in awe of what you share. Some people will be distracted. Some won't be interested. Some may disagree.
That doesn't mean you failed.
The more you practice staying with yourself, even when other people pull your attention away, the more it can change your life.
Bring This Practice Into Your Marriage
This work doesn't stay in the boardroom or in your business.
It follows you home.
Women often tell me that they came to work on client pitching, public speaking, or difficult conversations with colleagues, and then noticed that their parenting or marriage changed, too.
They found themselves responding differently in moments that used to trigger them.
One woman described hosting Thanksgiving. Her husband spilled turkey juice between the counter and the stove. Normally, she would have lost it.
But this time, she was cleaning it up and realized, I would usually have freaked out by now.
It seemed like a small moment. But those are the moments when the practice becomes real.
When we talk about difficult conversations in marriage, I like to make one simple shift:
Instead of calling it a difficult conversation, call it an important conversation.
The word difficult can immediately put our nervous system on alert. It can make us defensive before we've even begun.
But when we ask, What is important to me about this conversation? we create room for curiosity.
Maybe it's important because you love your spouse. Maybe it's important because you want to feel connected. Maybe it's important because you want to build a stronger partnership.
That doesn't mean the conversation will be easy. It means you're approaching it from a different place.
And if you and your spouse have a pattern of avoiding certain conversations, don't expect to change that pattern overnight.
Maybe you've been married for years and your usual response is to sweep things under the rug. Maybe you have a glass of wine and decide not to bring it up. Maybe you simply change the subject.
If you're going to do something different, it can be helpful to acknowledge that.
You might say:
“I know we don't usually talk about this, but I want to start because I care about you and our relationship. Can we find some time to talk?”
Don't spring it on your spouse in the middle of a chaotic evening. Give the conversation some space.
You might suggest meeting at a specific time, going for a walk, or taking a drive.
I love the idea of having these conversations side by side. It can feel less overwhelming than sitting face-to-face, especially when you're beginning to change a familiar pattern.
You're moving forward together, literally and figuratively.
And the goal isn't to win the conversation. It's to create a relationship where both of you can be honest, present, and connected.
Being Visible Doesn't Mean Sharing Everything
We live in a world where vulnerability is often treated as public disclosure.
People share everything. They feel that if they're being vulnerable, they need to post it, announce it, or make it available for everyone to consume.
But vulnerability isn't the same thing as oversharing.
You don't need to share every detail of your life to be authentic. You don't need to put every emotion on social media to prove that you're being real.
The question is not simply, What am I willing to share?
It's:
What is important to me about sharing this?
Why am I sharing it?
Sometimes we share because we're genuinely trying to help someone. Sometimes we share because we're proud of something we've accomplished.
And sometimes, if we're honest, we're sharing because we saw someone from high school achieve something and we want to prove that we're doing well, too.
We all have those moments.
The practice is to become more discerning about what we share and why.
This matters in business, especially for women who are becoming more visible as leaders or entrepreneurs.
You might know that you're the face of your business. You might know that you need to speak up in meetings, share your ideas, or show up on social media.
And the thought of being seen can feel overwhelming.
But what if you shifted your focus from being visible to making the message visible?
You're the messenger. You're the vehicle.
The message is what you're bringing into the world.
When you focus on the people you're serving and the problem you're solving, you become less consumed with how you're being perceived.
You can ask:
What does my audience care about?
What problem am I trying to solve?
What do people need to understand?
Then you can build your message around those answers.
The more your focus moves outward toward the message, the less you have to spend worrying about whether people think you're confident, credible, or impressive.
And this same idea applies at home.
In marriage and parenting, it's important to understand what matters to your partner and your children. But that doesn't mean abandoning what matters to you.
Ideally, you and your spouse are a team.
You each need to understand your own values, your own non-negotiables, and the things you're willing to compromise on. Then you can come together and build a foundation that works for both of you.
Sometimes couples therapy can help create a safer space for those conversations. It's not the only way, and it's not right for every couple, but having someone help you navigate the conversation can make a difference.
The goal is to build a relationship where you can both be seen, where your children can feel that their parents are on the same team, and where you aren't constantly trying to prove or protect yourself.
What Are We Really Afraid Of?
At the root of so much of this is a fear of being rejected, abandoned, or not loved.
We might be afraid to speak up at work because we could lose our job. We might be afraid to share our needs in marriage because our partner could turn away from us. We might be afraid to be visible because someone could criticize us.
Our brains are wired to protect us.
For much of human history, being rejected by our community could mean being exposed to danger. Our brains don't always distinguish between those ancient threats and the modern risks of being judged, disliked, or misunderstood.
So when we speak up, our nervous system may react as though we're putting ourselves in danger.
That can explain why something as ordinary as sharing an opinion can feel so intense.
You may know intellectually that you're safe. But your body may still respond with anxiety.
This is why the work is a practice.
We have to learn to slow down, recognize what's happening, and remind ourselves that discomfort doesn't automatically mean danger.
We can acknowledge the fear without allowing it to make every decision.
And sometimes, it helps to look the lion in the eyes and say, I see you.
You don't have to pretend the fear isn't there. You can recognize it, understand it, and still choose how you want to show up.
You Don't Have to Keep Running
At the end of our conversation, I asked Kristi what she knows about herself now that she wishes she could tell the woman she was ten or twenty years ago.
She didn't describe giving her younger self advice.
She imagined hugging her.
She imagined putting her arms around that younger version of herself so she could stop running. So she could stop feeling like a flurry of leaves, constantly moving, constantly trying to get somewhere.
So she could know that she was okay to be still.
And that image stayed with me.
How often do we spend our lives trying to become someone who is finally enough?
How often do we believe that if we perform a little better, work a little harder, please a few more people, or prove ourselves in one more way, we'll finally feel safe?
What if the person we've been trying so hard to become is someone we can simply come home to?
What if we could offer ourselves the same compassion we so freely offer the people we love?
We don't have to abandon ourselves to keep the peace. We don't have to become smaller to make other people comfortable. We don't have to earn the right to have a voice.
We can slow down. We can listen to our intuition. We can practice being present with our own thoughts and feelings.
We can learn to trust ourselves again.
And when we do, the benefits ripple outward.
Our work changes. Our marriages change. Our families change. Our communities change.
Because the more connected we are to ourselves, the more fully we can connect with the people around us.
I believe healing is remembering. And remembering is healing.
Sometimes, coming home to ourselves is the beginning of everything.
