The Hidden Message

Ria had always been the dependable one—at work, at home, in her friendships. She had mastered the art of keeping things running smoothly, often at the expense of her own peace. Growing up, she had been praised for her ability to put others first.?

Any personal desire she expressed, whether for rest, solitude, or even a small indulgence, was gently redirected…. “You are such a good girl for thinking of others first,” she would often be told. And so, Ria learned early on to push her needs aside, believing that prioritising them was selfish.

Now, in her mid-30s, Ria had built a successful career, climbing the corporate ladder with grace. But something felt off. Despite her achievements, she often found herself feeling drained, both physically and emotionally. Her chest was perpetually tight, as if a weight was pressing down on her, but she shrugged it off as stress—a badge of honour in her busy world. Everyone around her seemed to be in the same state, so why should she expect any different?

But one evening, after yet another exhausting day, something shifted. She had barely finished her tasks for the day when she felt an overwhelming tightness in her chest. This time, it felt different—heavier, more urgent. For the first time, she paused and asked herself a question she hadn’t asked in years: What do I need right now?

Ria found herself sitting in the quiet of her living room, thinking back to a conversation with her colleague Tara. Tara had once said, “Your body knows before your mind does. You’ve just got to listen. There's often a hidden message.” Ria had brushed it off at the time, thinking it was a little too abstract. But now, as she sat in silence, she wondered: Had her body been trying to tell her something all along?

The realisation hit her hard. Ria couldn’t remember the last time she had truly listened to herself. She had become so accustomed to pushing through, ignoring her hunger, fatigue, and longing for a moment of quiet, that she no longer recognised her own needs. She had been like a plant growing in rocky soil, surviving but never thriving.

The next morning, Ria did something she hadn’t done in years—she took the day off, not because she was sick or overwhelmed, but because she needed space. She decided to spend the morning at her favourite park, sitting under a tree that had always given her a sense of calm. As she sat in the dappled sunlight, she asked herself again, What do I need?

At first, the answer didn’t come easily. But as she allowed herself to breathe, to sit without an agenda, she began to notice things. Her shoulders, always tense, slowly relaxed. The tightness in her chest began to ease. For the first time in ages, she felt… at peace. Not driven by the constant need to do, to produce, to meet everyone else’s expectations. Just okay with being still.

As the days went by, Ria made it a practice to check in with herself, to ask what she needed in that moment. Sometimes, the answer was a glass of water. Other times, it was a break from her computer screen. And sometimes, it was the courage to say no—to decline a last-minute meeting or an extra project when her plate was already full.

Of course, old habits didn’t die easily. There were moments when the guilt crept in, whispering that she was being selfish for prioritising herself. But the more she honoured her needs, the more she realized that doing so wasn’t selfish—it was necessary. She began to feel more aligned, more grounded. By tuning into her body and emotions, she could show up more fully, both for herself and the people who depended on her.

At work, Ria noticed a shift. She was no longer the one who stayed late every night, but she was more productive during her working hours. She had more energy, more focus, and her contributions were deeper, more thoughtful. The endless exhaustion had lifted, replaced by a sense of clarity she hadn’t felt in years.

?It was as if she had replanted herself in fertile soil. Like the plant that had been struggling in rocky ground, she was now nourished. And for the first time, she began to bloom.

So many of us grow up ignoring our needs. We develop a belief that putting ourselves first is selfish. We push through exhaustion, stress, and discomfort, believing that attending to our own needs means neglecting others. But what if the truth is something else? ?What if the truth is that when we honour what we need—whether it’s rest, space, or simply a moment of silence—we’re not only taking care of ourselves, we are ensuring that we can show up fully for the people and tasks that matter most.

Many of us have, at some point, been like Ria. I know I have. But things can change. When we take the time to tune into our bodies, emotions, and inner wisdom, we can shift from merely surviving to truly thriving. In my experience, the key is recognising that honouring our needs isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength, and it forms the foundation for a life lived in alignment with our true selves.

Have you ever struggled with putting your needs first?

What has helped you learn to honour your own needs without feeling selfish?