The Empowered Therapist

TL;DR: Many of us have learned to keep the most human parts of ourselves out of view, either because others placed us in roles that seemed to require it, or because we decided on our own that being fully seen was too much of a risk. Stepping off the pedestal isn’t a loss of credibility, it’s often where real connection begins.

Somewhere along the way, most of us made a decision about how much of ourselves was acceptable to share with others.

This isn’t always a conscious process. Sometimes it happens in response to feedback, both communicated and perceived. Maybe you were vulnerable with someone and it didn’t go well, maybe you reached out to someone for support and felt like no one was there. Maybe you determined how much of you was safe and reasonable to share based on a role you were assigned early on in your life. Maybe you were the capable one, the steady one, the one who held it all together, and over time, this role shifted into a state of being, rather than something you could take off and put on as you needed to. And sometimes, this process is indeed conscious- sometimes we intentionally begin holding back, saying less, and sharing very little about ourselves in an attempt to keep ourselves safe and out of view from someone who has caused us harm. 

Whatever the origin, the result tends to look the same. A version of yourself that is carefully managed begins to form. Your most competent, presentable, and useful self shifts into constant view. But underneath, you’re likely to feel unknown, and lonely. You might feel like you don’t belong in any of the places or relationships you occupy. 

This is how we unintentionally put ourselves on a pedestal, or at least, reinforce the one others have put us on. Being on a pedestal doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with intentionally elevating over others, instead, it can be about showing up in a way that is less human than others. Pedestals are exhausting to maintain because they require constant tending. You have to keep track of what you’ve shown and what you haven’t. You have to perform a kind of wholeness that may not reflect where you actually are. And the longer you do it, the more the gap widens between who you are and who people think you are, until connection starts to feel thin even in relationships that look close from the outside.

Here’s the part that doesn’t get talked about enough: When we curate ourselves down to what feels acceptable, we don’t just protect our image. We’re also making a decision on behalf of the people around us. We decide, without checking in with them, that they need a particular version of us. We don’t give them a chance to handle more. We decided that the relationship is better served by our polished and curated self, rather than our truth. And in doing that, we rob them of the chance to actually show up for us, and we rob ourselves from learning who has the capacity, ability, and desire to show up for us in the way we show up for others.

This dynamic is present everywhere. In friendships where one person is always the supporter and never the supported. In professional relationships where admitting uncertainty feels like it could threaten job security. In families where someone has been the strong one for so long that no one thinks to check on them. In any relationship where the implicit agreement is that one person’s needs and struggles are less important than what they can provide for others.

One of the things that makes it so hard to step down is that the pedestal often comes with seeming rewards. People depended on you, and you felt valued, relied upon, and maybe even admired by those around you. And a fear might come up at the thought of dismantling the pedestal- you might not have a clear sense of who you are or what your relational value is if you aren’t chronically doing for others at the cost of yourself. 

Dear one, if you’ve been maintaining a version of yourself that’s cleaner and more put together than the truth, I want to ask you something, gently. Who decided that was what people needed from you? When did you decide that being less of yourself was the way to exist in relationships? What do you stand to gain by letting just a little more of yourself show? You can offer the  earlier version of you who decided that you need to hide big parts of yourself away in order to stay safe, some comfort. You can experiment with showing up more fully in small and measured ways. You can let yourself know that even if no one is there to receive it, all of you deserves to be welcome with yourself. 

If we want to be known, we have to invite people to see us. And most of the time, when we do, what comes back isn’t the total absence or rejection we feared. We build our tolerance for connecting with others, through practice, and I hope you’ll give yourself the opportunity to be off of the pedestal long enough, to find people who will meet you at your level.