A message for anyone who’s ever avoided their own feelings (read: most of us)
There’s a certain ache we carry quietly. For some, it’s the vague sense that something’s missing. For others, it’s a low-level hum of anxiety, irritation, or burnout that never quite fades. So we pour ourselves into work, into taking care of others, into improving, consuming, achieving. We keep moving — fast — on the outside.
Looking inward can feel like the opposite of progress. It can feel risky, indulgent, or even dangerous. What if we find something we don’t like? What if we can’t fix it? What if we realise we’re not who we thought we were?
And yet, the longer we avoid turning toward ourselves, the more we outsource our sense of fulfilment. We keep hoping that if we’re just successful enough, liked enough, loved enough — it’ll settle the unease. But the truth is, no amount of ‘enough’ out there will make up for the silence in here.
I say this not from a textbook, but from experience.
I used to be a people pleaser — chronically. I’d twist myself into whatever shape would make others like me. I’d put their needs above mine. Not in a generous, open-hearted way — but in a desperate hope that their attention might help me feel like I mattered. I didn’t know, then, that what I was really longing for was to feel chosen — by me.
There wasn’t one big breakthrough moment. Just a slow, steady return to myself. Bit by bit, I started liking the person I was. My own voice got louder. My own values felt clearer. And with time, I started to ask new questions — not “How do I get them to like me?” but “Who do I want to be close to?” That was a quiet revolution.
These days, I see the difference between kindness and people pleasing. It’s the intention behind the action. Kindness is generous. People pleasing is self-erasing.
Still, I understand why many of us resist the invitation to turn inward. It takes courage to stop running from ourselves. It takes tenderness to sit with what’s uncomfortable. It takes trust to believe that what we find won’t break us.
But what I know now is this: our feelings don’t want to destroy us. They want to free us. The fear we feel when approaching our own inner world isn’t a sign that we’re weak or broken — it’s a sign that we’re human. Sensitive, adaptive, brilliantly complex humans.
And maybe, just maybe, the discomfort is not something to run from — but a signal that we’re ready. Ready to listen. To feel. To heal. To become more honest with ourselves.
Not because something’s wrong with us. But because we’re finally choosing to make ourselves matter.
with love –
Aldona
Momentum Coaching - Aldona Frelik 