I was a people-pleasing perfectionist who thought I had to be the best at everything I did.
Those were the reasons I succeeded. I got promoted because I not only did excellent work, but extra work. I was liked because I was easy-going and didn’t rock the boat. People asked me to do things because I was willing to bend over backwards and go the extra mile. And all those pats on the back and promotions I received as a result proved that I was worthy. That was the way to be seen and heard.
I erringly believed these to be immutable truths — the only way to be seen and heard.
It took stage four cancer for me to realize that everything I believed about self-worth was wrong.
I assumed I was the only fool to have been caught in this trap of deception until I started studying how trauma and childhood experiences shape our view of ourselves and how we feel safe — and seen — in this world. I had to get very ill to see the limits of my beliefs and understand that those rules could be broken, AND I could write my own.
You do not have to get sick to break the rules that no longer serve you.
The rules I learned
We learn certain beliefs about the world and our place in it based on our experiences. I learned to put others first and to see my worth as measured by my helpfulness and accomplishments. It was how I felt seen as a young girl. It was how I felt accepted. My self-esteem was based on how much I did for others. How much I achieved. How pleasing, and easy-going, and helpful I was. I had to earn it, work for it, and prove myself worthy.
Maybe you also learned to get your needs for connection and approval met by helping others and getting good grades or good jobs. People noticed you, praised you, and promoted you.
I chalked up much of my career success to these attributes, and I took pride in my ability to work with the most difficult and egotistical people. I learned to go along to get along. I had a reputation for getting things done, working with jerks, and smiling through it all.
Even though I dreamed of the day I could say, “Take this job and shove it”, my inner critic wouldn’t allow it. That’s not how it’s done, she’d sneer.
We all learn ways of being and acting and reacting based on our previous experiences. Those are the rules we unconsciously set for ourselves. The rules by which we play the game of life. They become so ingrained that we see them as the only way.
The rules I needed to break
Cancer exposed my narrow ideas about worth. Achieving more was not going to make my dying days any more meaningful. Pleasing others was not going to make the treatments any easier for me. And being perfect was clearly not going to change my diagnosis. There was nothing left for me to DO, except live.
And the only question I had to answer was — Is this how I wanted to live?
My answer was a clear NO. I did not want to die with my job title being the prominent piece of my obituary. I did not want my coworkers to be the largest group of people at my funeral. They didn’t even know me. Not the real me. I wanted to live like I had only dreamed of living. I wanted to live by my rules, on my terms.
It scared me at first. Could I stop all the pretending and pleasing and perfecting and performing? How could I stand up for myself when I had been silent all these years?
But I didn’t want to die having never tried to truly live. I owed it to myself.
And I started saying no and stopped filling in for others. I began opening up and showing up as the empathic and vulnerable person I was. I became a whole human — strong and vulnerable — not just the stoic persona I had hidden behind.
I stopped listening to that judgmental voice that said I had to be a certain way and began listening to my inner voice of wisdom.
“Circumstances do not make us, but reveal us to ourselves” — Epictetus
It took cancer for me to believe in the person behind the mask I wore in public.
Maybe you play these same internal torture games. Saying yes when you want to say no. Stretching yourself thin and then crashing when you hit the wall. Doing everything for others and rarely asking for what you need or want. Feeling like this is who you are and what you’re known for, and if you stop, people will be mad, you’ll get fired, or that person you said you would help will fall apart, and it will be your fault.
It is torture.
A horrible game of lies.
And there is a voice that keeps telling you that all these terrible things will happen if you break the rules. Your world will crumble if you take care of yourself or choose a different way.
I know it doesn’t feel like you have any say in the rules or have any power to change them, because it feels like they’re all coming from outside. And it feels like breaking the rules will destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build.
I know this. I understand the fear that comes from wanting to change, but you’re afraid of what will happen. I didn’t think I could stop. I was certain I’d get fired if I asked for the extra projects to come off my plate or spoke up about the problems I saw. I knew others would be angry if I said no and stopped going along with everyone else. And I worried about the impact my walking away would have on the people I’d been holding up. They would blame me and say I was a horrible person.
The voices in my head were loud. And so sure of themselves. I could barely hear the whisper to “stop.”
My body had to yell and scream at me with cancerous tumors. Even though I was a marathon runner and mountain hiker, my body still felt the stress of the constant debate and unrelenting game of me versus them.
And I finally listened. I knew what she was telling me. It was the same whisper I’d heard over and over…for years…to stop. To take care of myself. To stop letting others decide. To be ME.
You can rewrite the rules
Stage four cancer and possible death allowed me to see my true strength and the power I possessed just by simply BEING alive. Living life. Loving others. Being fully present and showing up as my authentic self.
My world did not fall apart — it broke open in ways I never imagined. I found a new career. Moved to the mountains. I wrote the book I said I would write. And I live with a sense of urgency and agency that allows me to keep answering the question, “Is this how I want to live?” with an affirmative YES.
You do not have to wait for a dire health crisis or other life-altering event to see your worth and beauty. Once you understand the rules you’ve been living by and how they have come to be, you can begin to identify how those old rules no longer serve you. They may have helped you get where you are, but they will not get you where you want to be.
I know my old ways brought me much success, but until I learned to stand up for myself, own my talents, and embrace my dreams, I was still chasing outside indications to tell me I was good enough. Only when I could see that I was good enough, as I was, could I stop relying on others to determine my worth.
It is a gift that I want to give every human on this planet. It is why I coach, why I write, and why I continue to push myself to conquer my fears. I want everyone to know and feel that sense of worth that comes from the inside. I want everyone to see beyond the limiting beliefs and stifling rules they learned to follow and write their own.
You can write your own rules. You can change the game whenever you’re ready. That is the beautiful thing about life. Every moment is a new opportunity. It can feel scary, but it is worth it.
YOU are worth it.
Cancer taught me a powerful lesson about the human spirit, resilience, and acceptance. But mostly, I learned to see that I was WHOLE. I did not need fixing nor anyone’s approval; only the courage to listen and the grace to let go and fall forward.
If you’re still fighting those inner battles, still trying to prove you’re good enough — know this: you were created WHOLE. All you have to do is believe it and live from that belief.
I believe in you.
Originally posted on Medium Everything I Believed About Self-Worth Was Wrong | by Rochelle Finzel | Know Thyself, Heal Thyself | Medium