Speaking To Our Needs In Relationships
Many people living with chronic pain — or any chronic illness — experience a kind of social isolation that’s difficult to articulate. Sometimes it’s logistical: we don’t feel well enough to socialize. Sometimes it’s emotional: we feel misunderstood, unsupported, or made to feel guilty for not showing up the way we used to. And explaining ourselves over and over can feel like yet another drain on already-limited energy reserves. If you’ve ever felt overlooked in your relationships, this may feel familiar.
Advocating for ourselves with loved ones can be uniquely challenging, different from how we advocate for ourselves medically or even politically. Relationship dynamics are subtle and long-established, shaped by patterns we’ve stepped into, consciously or unconsciously. For those of us who once held everything together — the fixers, the listeners, the givers, and the peacekeepers — these roles can become expected and hard to shift. This becomes even harder to renegotiate when chronic pain alters the way we’re able to show up. But this shift is exactly why learning to speak to our needs becomes not only helpful, but essential.
Remembering That This Is for Our Benefit
One of the most important things to remember is that advocating for ourselves is ultimately for our well-being. For many of us who haven’t asked for much in the past, that can feel strange, even uncomfortable. But this work is about speaking our truth, saying what’s so, and asking for help when we need it — with authenticity, confidence, and as much comfort as we can manage.
Our sense of individuality — our inherent separateness from others — can feel confusing when we’ve spent years (or decades) compromising ourselves for the sake of the people we love. We may have allowed our identity to be defined by those roles we took on or by the expectations others placed upon us. We may have become accustomed to minimizing our needs so someone else’s could take priority. And now, facing the isolation or overwhelm that chronic pain often brings, the idea of reclaiming a clear, separate sense of self can feel intimidating.
But this is the moment to see ourselves as individuals whose needs matter. It’s healthy. It’s good for us. And ultimately, it’s good for the people we care about, too.
Why Speaking Up Matters
Why does it matter so much to speak to our needs in our relationships? Well, let’s consider the alternative. When we don’t advocate for ourselves, we:
• make ourselves smaller,
• make ourselves feel insignificant or invisible,
• reinforce the belief that our needs don’t count,
• and undermine our own well-being.
It’s not a pretty picture.
Self-silencing may seem like the easier path in the moment, but over time, it chips away at our sense of worth. It reinforces the old, unhelpful stories we carry — the ones that whisper that asking for support is selfish, needy, or burdensome. Those beliefs didn’t appear out of nowhere. Many of us were taught directly or indirectly that standing up for ourselves was wrong, that kindness meant self-sacrifice, or that taking up space would cost us love.
It can be powerful to pause and ask:
• Who taught me that my needs are too much?
• Whose voice told me to stay quiet?
• What role did I step into that required me to disappear a little bit?
Looking back through the lens we have now — with more self-awareness, more clarity, and frankly more lived experience — can soften some of the old shame. It also strengthens the simple but important truth:
You have every right to ask for what you need. You deserve to be heard, seen, and valued. You are not a burden.
Whether you’re asking for a ride to an appointment, help with a small task, or simply a few hours of company, you deserve care, compassion, and respect.
Starting Small: Practicing Self-Advocacy
Once we take an honest look at our history of self-assertiveness, we can begin practicing — slowly, gently, in manageable ways.
This might look like:
• Asking for a cup of tea or a blanket.
• Requesting help with an errand.
• Saying “I’m not up for this conversation right now.”
• Telling someone, lovingly, that you don’t have the bandwidth to absorb their stress today.
• Choosing to say “no” without guilt or over-explanation.
These may seem like small gestures, but emotionally, they’re gigantic steps in the right direction. With each one, we begin rewriting the role we play in our relationships. Instead of reflexively over-accommodating, we begin to center our own well-being — not in a selfish way, but in a balanced, honest one.
This doesn’t mean we’ve stopped caring. We’re still thoughtful, kind, and invested in our loved ones. We’re simply refusing to compromise ourselves in ways that drain us or diminish us.
And although it may feel awkward at first, we are creating a new dynamic — one in which our needs hold equal weight, not secondary status.
“But How Will People React?”
This is one of the most understandable worries that comes with asserting ourselves. There’s vulnerability in saying, “I need,” or “I can’t,” especially when the people we love are used to us being endlessly available.
But here’s the honest, sometimes uncomfortable truth:
Their reactions are not our responsibility.
We can’t change other people. We can’t control their interpretations. We can’t manage their emotional work for them.
We can remain compassionate, mindful, and clear. We can offer honesty without hostility. But their feelings, their stories, their resistance or acceptance — all of that belongs to them.
Being aware of another’s thoughts or feelings is not the same as compromising ourselves for them. When we set boundaries or advocate for ourselves, we’re establishing a healthier separation — a benevolent protective layer — one that allows us to care without losing ourselves in the process.
And often, what we fear most doesn’t even happen. Many people appreciate clarity. Many welcome the opportunity to better understand us. Some even feel relieved to know how they can offer help in ways that are actually helpful.
When People Don’t Respond Well
Sometimes, people won’t react with understanding — at least not at first. That doesn’t mean we’ve done something wrong. It doesn’t mean we’ve been unkind. And it doesn’t mean we need to cut people out of our lives, unless they choose to show themselves the door.
It simply means:
That’s information.
We may need to adjust expectations, redirect requests, or re-evaluate certain relationships, but that’s doable. There’s a well-known observation that those who benefited most from us not having boundaries tend to struggle the most when we establish them, and sometimes we’ll see this dynamic more clearly as we get better at speaking up.
These moments sharpen our discernment. Not everyone will like the new version of us — the one who asks for what she needs, says “no,” and stands in her worth. That’s okay. Our goal here isn’t universal approval; it’s living in alignment with what’s real and true for us.
Integrating All of This Into Everyday Life
Ultimately, advocating for ourselves in our relationships is about maintaining a delicate, compassionate balance: speaking our truth while honoring our integrity and our self-worth. It’s recognizing that asking for help does not diminish our strength — it simply acknowledges our humanity.
It’s about:
• examining old beliefs and roles;
• getting comfortable taking up space;
• overcoming the initial awkwardness of asserting ourselves;
• and remembering that fear of another person’s reaction must not keep us silent.
We deserve to speak to our needs. We deserve to be supported. We deserve to be regarded as worthy and important in our relationships. And the more we honor ourselves, the more every other part of our life begins to open.
So let’s continue practicing. Let’s take up space. Let’s say what’s so. Let’s ask for what we need without shrinking. Our relationships — and our own well-being — depend on it.
With you on the journey,
Julie
Questions for Reflection
Where have I been minimizing my needs in order to keep the peace — and what would change if I voiced even one of those needs clearly?
What old role do I still slip into in my relationships, even when it no longer fits who I am now?
If I trusted that asking for help made me stronger, not weaker, what would I allow myself to ask for today?
*chronic pain speaking our truth speaking to our needs boundaries self-awareness self-care self-discovery people pleaser people pleasing relationships relationship dynamics chronic illness mindfulness