Yesterday, I took myself on a date.
Not because I was lonely.
Not because I had no one to spend time with.
But because I am intentionally rebuilding my relationship with myself.
One of the exercises my coach gave me is to spend time alone, not to escape people, but to become comfortable with my own company. For many people who grew up losing their identity in childhood, solitude can feel uncomfortable at first. We become so accustomed to seeking validation, approval, or companionship that being alone feels unfamiliar. Childhood wounds follows us around like a plague.
So I planned the day carefully.
I would swim.
I would color.
I would read.
I would have lunch.
I would edit my book.
Most importantly, I would simply enjoy being with myself.
By the end of the day, I had done almost everything on my list. I swam. I colored. I enjoyed lunch. I only managed to read one page before time disappeared faster than I expected, and I never got around to editing my book.
Yet I went home feeling incredibly proud.
For the first time in a long time, I had shown up for myself.
Or so I thought.
The Butter Chicken Incident
For lunch, I decided to try Indian food.
I ordered Butter Chicken.
The menu described it as:
“Boneless chicken roasted in a tandoor oven, cooked in a creamy rich tomato and butter sauce, served with naan.”
It sounded delicious.
What the menu didn’t mention was that it would be extremely spicy.
When the food arrived, I took one bite.
Then another.
I simply couldn’t eat it.
Now, I understand that many Indian dishes are traditionally spicy, and I respect that. But the menu hadn’t indicated the spice level. In fact, another dish on the menu specifically warned that it was “extremely spicy,” which is exactly why I didn’t choose it.
Looking back, I realize I had every right to politely ask whether the dish could be made milder or request another option.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I smiled politely.
Left almost the entire meal untouched.
Paid the bill.
Walked away.
Hungry.
The Conversation That Changed Everything
Later in the evening, I called my friend. I told her I had enjoyed spending the day alone.
But, “I didn’t like the food.” She asked me one question.
“Did you tell the restaurant?” I replied, “No,” and without hesitation, she replied,
“That’s where you always go wrong.”
At first, I wanted to explain myself. Maybe all Indian foods are spicy; maybe that’s just how they cook, or maybe I should have known. Maybe…
Then I stopped. Because that’s exactly what I always do. I immediately started defending everyone else. Everyone except me.
When Childhood Wounds Follow Us Into Adulthood
Many survivors of childhood emotional neglect, trauma, or abusive relationships develop what psychologists call people-pleasing behaviors. Research suggests that people-pleasing often develops as a coping strategy. Children learn that staying quiet, avoiding conflict, or putting others’ needs first helps them feel accepted or safe.
As adults, that pattern doesn’t simply disappear. It shows up in everyday situations:
- Accepting poor service without saying anything.
- Saying “it’s okay” when it isn’t.
- Remaining silent to avoid disappointing others.
- Complaining to friends instead of addressing the issue directly.
- Feeling guilty for asking for what we need.
For years, I believed I was simply being kind. Now I realize I was abandoning myself.
Healing Isn’t Just Journaling
Healing isn’t only meditation.
It isn’t only therapy.
It isn’t only reading books or writing affirmations.
Sometimes healing looks like saying,
“Excuse me, this isn’t what I ordered.”
That sentence sounds simple.
For someone healing from deep feelings of unworthiness, it can feel terrifying.
Speaking up can trigger fears of rejection, conflict, or being seen as difficult.
But every time we stay silent when our needs matter, we reinforce the old belief that everyone else’s comfort is more important than our own.
A New Commitment
Yesterday showed me something I wasn’t expecting.
I don’t want to complain behind people’s backs anymore.
If something affects me, I want to address it with respect, honesty, and kindness to the person who can actually do something about it.
Not because I want conflict.
But because I matter too.
This is going to take practice.
I know there will be moments when my voice shakes.
I know some people may not like the new version of me.
People who benefited from my silence may feel uncomfortable when I begin setting boundaries.
That’s okay.
Healing was never about making everyone else comfortable.
It was about finally becoming safe for myself.
If You See Yourself in This Story
Maybe your “butter chicken” isn’t food.
Maybe it’s the relationship where you never express your needs.
Maybe it’s the workplace where you stay silent.
Maybe it’s the family gathering where you never say no.
Maybe it’s the friendship where you’re always the one adjusting.
Whatever it is, I hope you remember this:
Speaking up for yourself isn’t selfish.
Having needs isn’t selfish.
Asking to be treated with respect isn’t selfish.
Your voice deserves to take up space.
Yesterday, I thought I was taking myself on a date.
Instead, I discovered the next lesson in my healing journey.
And perhaps that’s the beautiful thing about self-discovery.
Sometimes life teaches us the biggest lessons over a plate we never got to eat.