Many of us carry a burden that consumes a lot of energy: we feel responsible for the happiness of others, even when it’s not our job to worry about that.

The phenomenon comes in many shapes, and often goes back to early childhood experiences and the role we played in the family.

One of my clients, let’s call her Rose, became aware of her own dynamic after a visit with her mother, who she hadn’t seen in many years.

She was the oldest child in the family and wasn’t just expected to take care of her younger brothers when she got older, she was also the designated person to sooth her mother, who constantly worried about the two boys and how they would make their way.

Later in life, Rose got used to taking responsibility for her siblings’ monetary problems, since they seemed incapable of holding a job and planning for their own financial security.

Her brothers’ inability to take care of themselves became a heavy burden, and it took years for her to develop the courage to end their emotional and financial dependency of her.

But the same kind of burden can arise even in families where one child was rejected and seemingly released of the responsibility to please one or both parents.

Alcoholics Anonymous utilize the infamous term of the “higher power,” which is ordinarily meant to describe God.

Lots of people feel that there isn’t one. How would a God who dwells somewhere outside of our existence allow all these terrible things, that humankind is afflicted by, to happen?

But there is an alternative concept to the divine that cannot be found in the bible: It is the extraordinary inside of us.

When I read a post on Christina Stapleton’s blog today, it struck me that she speaks not of a, but of “my higher power.” Her higher power is hers. I don’t know what it means to her, but if it ever was separate from her own being, it sounds to me like it has at some point become a part of herself.

Finding one’s own truth and expressing it is the most important path to heal damaged self-esteem, and to live a meaningful life.

We all are such phonies – from time to time. We compliment the neighbor on their new flower bed, even though we find it hideous. We agree with a new boss, although he has no idea what he’s talking about. We lend support to a desperate friend, when we know that all that can be done is to accept the loss.

So many of us have learned how to please others and don’t even know what our own stance looks like. Or worse, we know exactly what is looks like and can’t find the courage or the heart to be sincere about it.

We so often want to protect another person from hurt that we start bending our own convictions.

Honesty does not have to be brutal. It can be spoken earnestly and with warmth, without giving in to anger or inflicting needless pain.

Many times we are so hung up on what we are lacking, or what we can’t have, that we completely disregard the power we already have. Especially in intimate relationships.

In my psychotherapy practice, I have worked with a number of couples where this discrepancy in perception becomes quickly obvious. One partner will feel “steamrolled” or overpowered by the other, especially during fights.

The curious thing is that very often neither partner feels particularly powerful. They actually feel quite the opposite; at a loss for how to bring their message across.

Both partners feel that they aren’t being heard, and often feel overwhelmed and intimidated by the onslaught of blame or demands from the other side.

We might feel powerless in the face of stubborn resistance, but underestimate that our own demands may come across as equally forceful and hard to be met.

So often we get caught up waiting for something big to happen so we can finally feel ready to make a change.

“Once I have my college degree I will go out and take charge of my life.”

“As soon as my daughter is out of the house, I can start taking care of myself.”

“I can make new friends as soon as my social anxiety is gone.”

Thus are the hindrances of the mind that prevent us from living life. We keep waiting for some important outside event that will enable us to get going, and jolt us out of our passivity.

But we don’t have to wait. We can start any time. In a small way.

So many of us feel starved for support and attention. We feel alone, and riddled by doubts about what we should do and who we should be. We constantly obsess about what is lacking from our lives.

How many of us have woken up in the wee hours of the morning, anxious and in the grip of fear. “I shouldn’t have said that, now I’m going to lose that person.”"I wish I wasn’t so lonely.” “I don’t have enough friends, I am all alone in the world.” And so on.

We tend to lose sight of what is already present in our lives, and that we can rely on them.

I came across this book by Byron Katie, called I Need Your Love – Is That True?: How to Stop Seeking Love, Approval, and Appreciation and Start Finding Them Instead. It was published a couple of years ago. I’m a bit of a newcomer to self help literature, but she is quite popular, so you may have read or heard about it many times before.

I was struck by a quote in the book that reflects our most basic existential fears so eloquently that I want to just type the whole thing:

One of the most destructive forces in our own minds is the critical voice that seems to comment on much of what we do.

“Why did I say this? I look like such a fool.”

“I could have jumped in here and helped my colleague out, I’m such a dope.”

“This didn’t turn out right, I have to do it all over again.”

It seems like in many ways we are our own worst critics.

Yes, sometimes we do mess up. But most of the time we do the best we can. If we want to change, we have to first and foremost deal with the self judgement we put on ourselves.

So often, we are unaware of the effect of our words on others.

Something we say may linger in another person’s mind, and we underestimate the importance it may have on them.

Something that was said weeks ago may linger in our minds, and is brought up after the other long forgot about it.

Our perception, as well as our memory, is extremely selective.

We tend to pay attention to only those parts of a conversation that are important to our own agenda. We usually remember only the words that have emotional significance for us, and neglect everything else that was said – including our own thoughtless statements.

These imbalances are exacerbated when there are power discrepancies. Like the one between parents and children. Teachers and Students. Psychotherapists and their patients.

I have recently been on both ends of such miscommunications.

A poor body image is often connected to low self esteem: We don’t like not having a perfect flat belly. We hate our poor thighs and ankles because we want them to look differently.

We squeeze every pore and rip the skin off our cuticles to try and gain control over what is so hard to control:our emotions.

When we are anxious or feel critical of ourselves, it seems that we have to do something. We have to distract ourselves from our negative thinking, and since we have a hard time getting a grip on our feelings, the body becomes the battlefield of our endless self improvement projects.

Rather than having to change or bodies, how about we change our attitude?

I’ve been listening to a series of talks given by Caroline Myss on Self Esteem. Much of what she says is highly valuable.

But I noticed how she keeps propagating a staunch attitude of absolutely not blaming anybody for their misdeeds. Instead, she insists in a tone that sounds (as she says herself) punitive, that we need to take responsibility for ourselves at all times.

Of course we don’t want to get hung up on pointing the finger at others. Especially in relationships with a partner or a close friend, it’s highly detrimental to insist how only the other is to blame for whatever is going wrong.

There also is a limit as to how long we can blame our caregivers for the sins of the past. All parents make mistakes. It’s a built in feature of being human. And some parents never admit to their terrible misconduct or take responsibility for the damage they’ve done.

We have to deal with the sins of our abusers. We have to confront that we were victims at one point. That we had no power over what was done to us. That we suffered at the hands of the people we were supposed to trust.

We need to acknowledge the powerlessness of these situations and grieve the abuse.

Then, at some point, we need to move on.