The freedom in letting go - when a former people pleaser reaches her limit.

And how Staphysagria helped the transition.

Full disclosure. I used to be a people pleaser. I think many healers inherently are.

So when I work with people, men and women, who bravely admit they have people pleasing tendencies, I get it. Even having that awareness is a genuine step towards healing.

There are many theories about why people become this way. Often it begins in childhood dynamics.

Parents who are emotionally unavailable
Parents with addictions
Parents who have illnesses, mental or physical

Sometimes it is growing up in an environment where love felt conditional. Where being good, helpful, quiet, capable, or emotionally mature meant you were safer. More accepted. Less of a burden. It can also come from being the peacekeeper in a volatile household, from growing up with high expectations or perfectionism, from being praised for compliance rather than authenticity, or from learning early that conflict led to withdrawal, anger, or punishment. For some, it comes from trauma, loss, or instability, where keeping others regulated felt essential for survival.

You learn early to read the room. To anticipate needs. To smooth things over. To become what others require.

And for a while, it works.

Until it doesn’t.

There comes a point where the body starts whispering, then nudging, then shouting. Fatigue. Anxiety. Resentment. A sense of being invisible in your own life. The quiet grief of realising you are endlessly available to others, yet strangely absent from yourself.

A recent case study - Staphysagria

I think of a woman I worked with recently, in her late 40s.

From the outside, she looked like she was coping. On the inside, she was exhausted.

She was in a long-term relationship that had quietly turned toxic. Not always loud or dramatic, just a constant erosion of her sense of self. She was wearing herself down at work, over delivering, staying late, taking responsibility for things that were never hers to carry. At home, her teenage children were walking all over her. Not because they were bad kids, but because she had forgotten how to hold boundaries. Saying no felt unbearable. Asking for space felt dangerous.