When You’re the One Who Keeps the Peace
And You're Feeling a Little Like You're Disappearing in the Process
I’d just moved to a new place about 1,000 miles from where we’d previously lived.
I had 3, almost 4, little kids (the new baby came less than 3 weeks after we moved) and a husband starting a new job.
I’m a social person by nature, so moving to a new area is always hard. I wanted friends. I wanted people to do things with. I wanted girl’s nights out.
And with little kids, I wanted friends for them too.
So when I met someone who was not only fun to hang out with but who also had kids that lined up almost perfectly with mine, it felt like a match made in heaven.
We become close friends and spent a lot of time together in the coming years.
It was just what I’d wanted. Literally what I’d prayed for.
I’m also a very passionate person, and when I care about something, I care deeply.
This includes in my relationships.
So I regularly did nice things for this friend. I’d show up at her doorstep with her favorite drink if I thought she was having a bad day. I made her family dinner when they moved to a new house (still in the same area). I surprised her with pizza when she got home from a long trip.
Honestly, I did things for her almost constantly.
And I genuinely enjoyed doing those things.
There were real highs in that relationship. Times when I felt deeply connected and times when we had a lot of fun.
But underneath it all, there was some major discomfort on my part.
This discomfort came in a couple of ways.
First, I was often in trouble. There were certain ways she liked things done, certain expectations she had for me as a friend, and if I didn’t live up to those expectations, I was met with disapproval.
That disapproval often looked like distance or cold-shouldering on her part. It also sometimes involved her telling me what I’d done wrong, then me trying to get back in her good graces.
To get back in her good graces, I’d do more of those good-natured things I mentioned previously. I’d bring her a favorite treat and say “I’m sorry.” I’d send a text trying to explain myself and smooth things over. I’d try to make her smile, make her laugh.
And you better believe I learned to avoid the things that might trigger conflict altogether. It felt easiest to just go with the flow, let her make most of the choices, do things that felt safe.
But I have to admit that I started to feel a little curious about why it seemed like I was the one putting all the work into this relationship. Why I was the one apologizing, smoothing things over, avoiding conflict, or taking responsibility.
I wondered why she didn’t pop by my house with something nice for me or why she never made me dinner when I needed it. I wondered why it seemed like I was doing all the work in the relationship.
There was even a new song on the radio at the time with the lyrics “why don’t you just meet me in the middle” and they resonated.
Why couldn’t this be a mutual give and take?
Why couldn’t I show up as myself in the relationship and be treated with the same love and care I was offering her?
What I learned as I continued to explore this (and later actually dug into the research) is that sometimes we end up in patterns where we’re doing a lot of the emotional work—smoothing things over, apologizing first, trying to keep everything feeling okay.
And often, we don’t notice it right away.
We just think we’re being kind.
We just think we’re being a good friend, partner, mom, sister, or daughter.
But over time, it can start to feel a little one-sided.
A little tiring.
And even a little lonely.
If any part of this story feels familiar—in any of your relationships—there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting relationships that feel mutual.
There’s nothing wrong with being thoughtful, generous, or attuned to the people you love. Those are beautiful traits. They build connection and trust.
But relationships are meant to have space for both people.
It’s okay to want mutuality.
It’s okay to want to be cared for too.
It’s okay to notice when you’re doing most of the adjusting, smoothing, or repairing.
Not so you can blow anything up.
Not so you can become someone harsher or less kind.
Just so you can begin to stay present in your own life while you care for others.
Often the first step isn’t changing anything.
It’s simply noticing where you’ve been disappearing and allowing yourself to take up a little more space again, even in small ways.
Maybe that’s saying where you want to eat without feeling like you’ve got to choose what the other person wants.
Maybe it’s deciding what you want to do that day and inviting them to join or not, but being ok with it either way.
Maybe it’s being ok with a tiny bit of discomfort when you have different opinions on something. This is normal for relationships.
These are tiny shifts. Small, doable things.
But they are meaningful ones.
You don’t have to change anything all at once.
For now, just noticing and starting to make these little changes is enough.
They compound to more over time.
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