When You Don’t Ask — and Something Heals Anyway
A few weeks ago, I went in for a small operation.
I knew the theory: go in calm, come out calm. So I asked my husband to take me.
A friend suggested it might help to have someone I feel safe with there when I wake up.
It made sense. But I didn’t ask.
Instead, I kept asking him what he was going to do after dropping me off.
Looking back, it makes sense.
Growing up, my emotional needs often felt… secondary. Not ignored in big ways, but
quietly unmet.
And over time, a story formed:
My needs aren’t that important.
It’s better not to ask.
The thing is, we don’t just believe these stories—we live them.
We set things up, often unconsciously, to prove them true.
So there I was, about to go into surgery, already bracing to do it alone.
Then the doctor said it would take less than two hours.
And my husband simply said,
“Then I’ll stay.”
My body reacted before my mind did.
I could feel the bracing—like I had been preparing for him to leave.
I looked out the window, focused on the trees, and let myself settle.
He was staying.
I didn’t have to do this alone.
It only really landed later:
that this wasn’t just about the procedure.
It was a moment where an old narrative didn’t get to run the show.Not because I forced anything.
Not because I did it “right.”
But because something in me allowed a different experience in.
Sometimes healing isn’t loud or dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like this:
Noticing the brace.
Letting yourself soften.
Letting someone stay.
Where/with who are you still bracing where danger is long gone? Where/with whom
can you slowly let go?
