Underneath
What's going on underneath #
Three things that tend to sit under the words.
It can also leave the original feeling with nowhere to go.
Some people grew up in homes where saying how something felt was quickly weighed against everyone else's needs, and often found too heavy.
Underneath, a rule can settle in: “My side can wait until everyone else is sorted,” or “If I say how it felt, I'm taking too much.”
Reactions
What people often do #
- Say sorry straight away, then change the subject
- Stop sharing with that person, even small things
- Turn every conversation towards their side instead
- Argue that it wasn't about you, then feel worse for arguing
- Keep things to yourself and carry them home alone
The deck
The story in 6 cards #
Six short cards, from the moment to letting go.
The eye-roll at the table
You mention that you felt hurt when nobody asked about your interview. Someone at the table rolls their eyes and says, “It's not all about you.” The conversation moves on. You go quiet. The words stay with you. Later, washing up, you wonder if you're selfish for wanting to be asked, and you decide to keep your feelings to yourself next time.
Your view counts less than others'
The words land on a rule that may already be there: 'My view doesn't count as much as other people's.' It sounds humble and generous. But look at what it does: it makes your feelings something to apologise for. You start apologising for having feelings at all. Your sense of mattering now depends on never taking up space, even when something matters to you.
Why putting others first was praised
We hold it because putting others first was often praised. Maybe you grew up being told not to be selfish. Maybe you saw that speaking up caused trouble at home. Either way, the rule isn't silly. It comes from wanting to be kind and to keep the peace. Maybe you were the one who always made room for everyone else, and learned to keep yourself small to help. That deserves kindness, not blame.
Sharing less of what hurts
Every 'not all about you' makes you smaller. You stop sharing what hurts. You keep your news to yourself. You feel selfish for wanting care. You say 'I'm fine' when you are not. You put everyone else first, every time, and wonder why you feel so tired and alone. Slowly your own feelings start to feel like an imposition, and the people around you know less and less of what's going on with you.
Is shrinking worth it?
Ask yourself honestly: has believing your view counts less ever made you feel more cared for? Or has it mostly made you feel more alone? Wanting to be asked about something that matters isn't selfish, and the words were theirs to choose. Either way, one eye-roll isn't the measure of whether your feelings count. Holding this rule so tightly costs you more than it gives you.
Your feelings count too
Letting go doesn't mean you have to make everything about you. It means your feelings count too, alongside everyone else's. You can notice what matters to you, take it seriously yourself, and share it with someone safe. Your feelings matter. That's where some peace comes back: your feelings get a place, and the eye-roll can stay with the person who did it.
Where someone really does react badly, with threats, being hurt or frightened, that is worth taking seriously, and staying quiet or going along can be the safe choice.
The flip
The old rule, and a new one to try #
The old ruleMy view doesn't count as much as other people's.
A new rule to tryMy feelings count too, alongside everyone else's.
Three small days
Try it for 3 days #
- Day 1
Name one thing that matters to you this week
- Day 2
Think of one person who usually asks how you are
- Day 3
Do one kind thing for yourself today
Want to talk it through?
“What had you just shared when they said it?”
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Everything this deck knows
Go deeper #
What it sounds like, where it comes from, what it costs, and other ways to see it. Every question opens a chat on it.
How it lands
What was said
Said right after you shared something #
A mother on the phone when a hard week at work gets mentioned, a brother at the dinner table, a friend in the car when a plan that fell through comes up. A feeling or a need gets said out loud, and back comes: “it's not all about you.”
The words are short, and they often arrive fast, before the thing that was shared has even finished landing. The talk moves on to something else, and the feeling that was just offered is left there, unanswered, halfway across the table.
What had you just said when you last heard it?Talk about this ›
Was it a feeling, a request, a small piece of news, and did anybody come back to it later that day?Talk about this ›
The first few seconds
Why the words dry up so fast #
Some people describe a quick heat in the face, a sinking in the stomach, and a sudden wish to take back what they just said. Some apologise on the spot for a feeling they had barely described. Any of these can happen, and none of them needs explaining.
When sharing gets turned into a fault, the reaction can come within a second, before any thinking. The clear thinking, for some people, comes much later, on the drive home or lying awake, with the sentence that would have explained it.
What did your body do in the second after those words?Talk about this ›
Did you shrink, go quiet, or want to explain yourself all over again?Talk about this ›
What might that first reaction say about how much it mattered?Talk about this ›
Why it lands
It turns sharing into taking too much #
“I found today hard” is a feeling. “It's not all about you” skips the feeling and moves the talk to how much room the person is taking. Some people notice they hear that part far louder than the thing they actually said.
It can also leave the original feeling with nowhere to go. It wasn't answered, only set aside, and some people notice a second sting on top of it: the idea that saying it at all was wrong.
Does that fit, or not?Talk about this ›
If what you shared was one sentence about one day, how did it become a question about taking up too much space?Talk about this ›
What were you hoping would come back?Talk about this ›
The voice inside
When the sentence starts checking you first #
Hear it often enough and it can move in. “Don't make this about you.” “They have enough going on.” “Keep it short, they have their own things.” Sometimes the check runs before a single word has been said.
The other person may be in another city, but now the editing happens inside: a hard day becomes “fine”, a need becomes “it's nothing”, a piece of good news gets saved for later. And because it sounds like your own voice, it can feel like simple good manners.
Whose voice does it use when it tells you to keep your side small?Talk about this ›
Is it yours, or one picked up at a particular table, a long time ago?Talk about this ›
Where it comes from
Where it can come from
For some people, it began at the family table #
“Don't make a fuss.” “Think of your sister first.” “Others have it worse.” Some people grew up in homes where saying how something felt was quickly weighed against everyone else's needs, and often found too heavy.
In some families, room for feelings was shared out carefully, and the reasons for that differ from one home to the next. What some people remember is a quiet conclusion: that their side should wait, and that asking for room can look like greed.
When did you first learn to shorten a feeling before saying it, so it wouldn't take up too much room?Talk about this ›
Who was usually at the table when that happened?Talk about this ›
The belief under it
A quiet rule that can form underneath #
Underneath, a rule can settle in: “My side can wait until everyone else is sorted,” or “If I say how it felt, I'm taking too much.” It shows up in what gets done: listening for hours, sharing in one line, and checking the room before speaking.
A rule like this rarely feels like a rule. It feels like being considerate, the way things are done, which is exactly why it is worth taking out and looking at in daylight now and then.
Some people trace a rule like this back to early years; some don't. Either way, it can be looked at. Which rooms does it still fit, and which not?
What it costs
What it costs
What keeping your side small can take #
It can mean friendships where one person always listens and the other always talks, hard weeks mentioned only once they are over, or a need that gets said so late it arrives as a complaint. Some people stop saying how things feel long before deciding nobody would want to know.
There is a quieter price too. When every feeling first has to pass a test of whether it is too much, conversations get careful, and the people close by only ever meet the trimmed version. Over a year, that can add up to a lot of evenings spent listening without once being asked.
Not out of weakness. Trimming yourself all day takes real effort.
What has it cost in the last year: a hard day nobody knew about, a thing you wanted and didn't mention?Talk about this ›
If it stays as it is
Five more years of keeping your side small #
Picture one ordinary Tuesday on a day when “my side can wait” is loud. What is in it: the tasks, the conversations, the things left unsaid or untried? It's only a picture to look at, nothing to fix.
Maybe it holds a long call spent listening, a hard morning trimmed to “fine” in a message, a small piece of news saved for later, a need waiting for a better moment. Some of it may be familiar, some not at all.
Nothing here needs an answer yet, and nothing in the picture is fixed. Looking at it is enough for now. What, if anything, do you notice?
Another way to see it
Another way to see it
Sharing a feeling is not the same as taking over #
Saying how something felt is one part of any close relationship. Two people can each have a side, and making room for one doesn't have to mean taking room from the other.
The words also tend to arrive without a measure. The difference can be worth noticing.
Could one side being heard be part of how the other side gets asked about too?Talk about this ›
All about you compared with what?Talk about this ›
Is a single sentence about a hard day the same as taking over a whole conversation?Talk about this ›
Another way in: if a close friend had said exactly what you said, in the same tone, would it have sounded like taking too much, or like a person telling you how their day went?Talk about this ›
Noticing it sooner
What people notice when they look closer #
Others notice how often they are the one who listens: to a friend's long story, a parent's worries, a colleague's bad week. Those hours were there all along, even if nobody was counting them.
When some people replay the moment slowly, they look at what they had actually said: one line, one feeling, one request, or more?Talk about this ›
Set beside the words that came back, what does the replay show you?Talk about this ›
What would a fair count of the listening you have done lately look like?Talk about this ›
And who, in your life, asks about your side without needing to be prompted?Talk about this ›
Making peace with it
No need to win the argument about fairness #
Making peace doesn't mean agreeing that you were selfish, or pretending it didn't sting. It means those words get less say over whether the next hard day gets mentioned, and to whom.
Some people find it lighter once they stop trying to prove, in their head, that what they said was small enough to be allowed. Winning that argument over and over is tiring, and it keeps one person's view at the centre of the room.
Where someone really does react badly, that is worth taking seriously, and staying quiet or going along can be the safe choice.
What would it be like to let the words stay theirs?Talk about this ›
A truer sentence
A truer sentence to keep nearby #
If “my side can wait” has been on repeat for years, there's no need to fight it head on. Some people keep a truer line ready instead: “Saying how it felt is part of being close, and there's room for both sides.”
It doesn't have to feel true. It is only a line some people try on, and some find that, said quietly and often, it takes up a little of the space the old line used to fill.
What would a truer sentence be in your own words, one that makes room for your side without taking anything from anyone else's, and that could be said quietly before the next conversation?Talk about this ›
What to let be
Some of it can simply be put down #
Not every “it's not all about you” needs a reply, a defence or a list of all the times you listened. Some of it can be noticed, felt for a moment, and put down, like a heavy bag set on the floor at the end of the day.
That isn't giving up. It's choosing where your energy goes, and some people say it leaves more room for the conversations where both sides get a turn without anyone counting.
Putting it down for the evening doesn't mean it was fine, or that it's settled. It only means it doesn't have to travel into everything else today.
If it loosened
And if the rule loosened, even a notch #
Imagine, only as a picture, the rule a notch quieter. A feeling said out loud is a feeling, not a fault. What is the first thing that feels different, even slightly?
Small things can be enough, such as noticing your own side of a hard day while it is still a day, a need put into two plain sentences in your head, or a friend's question answered with more than one line. What would your first small thing be?
Nothing here needs to be said to anyone. Whatever comes up is yours, and worth noticing, however small it seems. If you'd like to look at it properly, a chat is one tap away.
Small things to try
Something to try
A few small things people try #
- Name it in your head: “there's the all-about-you line again”
- Ask yourself quietly: what was I actually trying to say?
- Notice which part of the moment is louder: the words, or the tone
- Think of one person who asks about your side, and what they ask
- Notice one small thing you wanted today, however small
Small, private and all optional. Try whichever feels doable.
Pick a question
Talk it through #
Tap one. A chat with Dr. Thoughts opens on that question: free, private, no sign-up to start.