Four Subtle Ways We Outsource Responsibility for Our Self-love

My last post, “The Unspoken Social Shame of Having to Heal Yourself,” was an admission that I’m tired of my dependence on external sources of love, and I’ve started a year-long “Love Container” journey. The unknowns are many, and the questions of what and how are plenty. But navigating these unknowns has to feel better than 30+ years of a spiraling mind and nervous system.​

Since my last post, I’ve reflected further on the normalcy (and often encouragement) of finding our stability in some external source. Being the first to admit you have a complicated relationship with relationships is lonely. Often, folks think the issues we have in our connections are the other person’s. But for me, it’s the connections that are the issue. I have a pattern of using my relationships with others to outsource or avoid the responsibility of building self-love. My behaviors were more compulsive than intentional. Still, it reveals the small ways our cumulative interactions with others make it easier to disconnect from ourselves.

Here are a few ways I’ve outsourced responsibility for self-love.

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Blaming my parents, bullies, and partners for my low self-esteem

I have many childhood trauma stories. Though much of my childhood memory is gone, I can reclaim the moments that hurt most with painful precision. Those hurts became the scapegoat for my low self-esteem and mental issues. Through the years, I’ve paired those experiences with the classic millennial therapy speak, to avoid accountability for how I hold on to the past to avoid confronting the present. My father wound, early years of disconnect from my mother, or childhood bullies can’t have my life. My pain is valid. But the power I’ve surrendered in the wake of others’ inability to see me clearly is more rumination than reclamation. I’m working to remind myself that I have all the power I need right here, in this moment.

​Silencing myself when I want to speak up

I’m a nervous talker and an extrovert with social anxiety (yes, we exist!), so this might be hard to believe. But my internal world is overfilled with suppressed wisdom and creativity. For every “mic drop” you hear from me, there are five more that remain unexpressed. I’ve worked so hard to break this pattern. I’ve challeneged my self to stop and do what my inner voice whispers for nearly a year. But there are countless moments I shut myself down because I’ve internalized a belief I’m not exceptional enough. That ends here.

Tempering my joy based on others’ reactions

I feel the world deeply. My highs are mountain peaks. My lows are in the pits of hell. Through the years, I’ve conditioned myself to flatten my emotional range to meet others’ windows. This looks like the times I learn a new concept or have an encounter that fills me with excitement, but I force myself to lower my intensity and downplay its importance. At first, I told myself it was a shift to avoid being too much. In those moments, I convinced myself that if they were not excited, it must not be worth getting excited about. Now I see it for what it is: dimming my authentic emotions in anticipation of others’ rejection or invalidation. It’s a coping mechanism where my joy is in the causality.

Asking everyone for opinions before making a decision.

Back in the day, I’d call someone—usually my mom— after every incident and before every decision. Sometimes it was small things, like calling and asking, “Should I wear the dress or the jeans to the party?” Other times it was big things, like “What should I do about the kids?” or “Do you think I’d like this job?” Of course, not all check-ins are bad. But after decades of repeating that pattern, that habit slowly erodes trust in my capacity to make a decision. I’m reworking this habit by calling loved ones after I’ve made a decision, rather than before. The shift has helped me reduce my reliance on others’ perspectives and build my confidence.

These are only some of the ways I’ve been outsourcing the responsibility for my self-love to others. It’s uncomfortable to recognize how I’ve self-sabotaged, abandoned, and overextended myself. But I know exploring the specifics of my patterns helps me clarify what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and the changes I’d like to see on the other side of my love container journey.

It’s lonely work. But I know I’m not alone.

Can you relate? Follow along for more on healing attachment wounds and more.

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The threads keeping me sane

Music

• Mine - Tems

I’m reading: Break the Cycle - Dr. Mariel Buque

What now:

• Reflect: Where have I outsourced my self-love?

• Remember: You are not less than others because you find yourself building a love container in your 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, or older. At least you did it.

• A Black feminist quote: “You’ve got to learn to leave the table when love’s no longer being served.” — Nina Simone

  
  

- In search of liberated mothering, Amb, the aspiring Free Black Mama

That Freed Self (Formerly Free Black Motherhood) is a heart-scheduled newsletter that encourages Black mothers and others to ask “why” and “who says” as they craft life on their own terms, written by Ambreia Meadows-Fernandez. Its core purpose is to highlight the principles of Free Black Motherhood, a co-created, Black mother-first community liberation movement with over 20,000 followers. The goal: Help Black mothers recognize and claim the autonomy that’s ours—and gives us the tools and community to turn that autonomy into action (agency) in mothering and beyond.

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