We Were Taught Not to Need Too Much: When Silence Becomes Resentment

We’re taught to be kind.
To be easygoing.
To not upset anyone.

We learn early that being a “good” woman means being accommodating. Agreeable. Low-maintenance. We’re praised for how well we anticipate the needs of others, how quickly we smooth tension, how gracefully we put ourselves last.

And so we do.
We soften. We adjust. We don’t ask twice.

We learn to communicate in hints and half-statements. We drop subtle cues and hope the people closest to us will pick them up. And when they don’t, we internalize the silence. We tell ourselves to manage it. To not make it worse. To let it go.

But the truth is—most of us don’t really let it go.
It lingers.

The need doesn’t disappear. It just shifts shape.
Until one day, it leaks out sideways.
In a sharp comment. In a sarcastic joke. In the cool tone we didn’t mean to use.

We don’t always recognize it as resentment at first. Sometimes it just feels like irritability. Sometimes it looks like snapping at the person who “should have known.” Sometimes we hear ourselves say something and think, That wasn’t even what I meant… but I needed them to feel it.

This is what happens when we’ve gone too long without naming what we need.
Not because we don’t know how—but because we’ve been taught that asking is risky. That being direct is rude. That we’ll be “too much.”

So instead, we hint.
We sigh louder.
We hope they’ll read our mood like a map.

And when they don’t—we feel alone.
Unseen.
Unloved, even.

But here’s the thing: they might not be ignoring you.
They might not even realize you’re needing something.
Because no one can respond to a need they can’t clearly see.

What It Can Look Like

Let’s say it’s been a long day.
You’re juggling dinner, homework, dishes—and your partner is scrolling on their phone. You’re flooded and overstimulated and under-supported.

What comes out:

“Must be nice to relax while everything magically gets done.”

What’s actually underneath:

“I’m overwhelmed. I feel alone in this. I need your help.”

A clearer version might sound like:

“Can you jump in with me for the next 15 minutes? I’m feeling stretched thin and could really use the support.”

That version can feel vulnerable. Exposed.
It risks the possibility of hearing no—or worse, feeling dismissed.

But it also gives your relationship a real chance to respond.
To repair.
To meet you in the place where resentment was starting to build.

This isn't about being better communicators.
It’s about unpacking the systems that taught us it was safer to be silent than to be honest.
It’s about unlearning the idea that “easy to love” means “asks for nothing.”
And it’s about remembering that your clarity is not a burden.

It’s a kindness.
To yourself.
And to the people who do want to show up for you—but can’t read between the lines.

Journal Prompt:
Think of a moment recently where something you needed didn’t get expressed clearly.

• What did you feel?
• What were you hoping someone would notice or understand?
• If you could go back and say it again—what would a more direct, self-honouring version sound like?

Write it down. No edits. No softening.
Just your truth, uncluttered.