Defining Needs, Part II: Follow It Backward

In Part I, we started with a question:

What am I hoping this will give me?

Now let's follow the answer.

Suppose the sentence is:

I need you to text me back.

We don't need to decide whether that's reasonable.

We don't need to determine yet whether texting back is the need, a request, an expectation, or something else.

We'll come back to that.

First, let's understand what the response is doing for us.

What am I hoping will happen for me when they text back?

Maybe the answer is:

I'll feel better.

Okay.

What does better mean?

Maybe:

Relief.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Follow the relief backward.

If the text gives me relief, something was happening before the relief arrived.

So:

Relief from what?

Maybe I was anxious.

What was I anxious about?

I thought they might be upset with me.

And if they're upset with me?

Maybe I did something wrong.

And if I did something wrong?

They might pull away.

And if they pull away?

I could lose the relationship.

Look how far we've traveled from:

I need you to text me back.

We didn't get here by telling someone what they really need.

We got here by staying curious about what each answer was pointing toward.

Don't rush to name the need.

This is where it can be tempting to finish the exercise for ourselves.

Oh. So what I really need is connection.

Maybe.

Maybe it's security. Belonging. Reassurance. Predictability.

Maybe none of those words quite fit.

We don't have to hurry.

The purpose of following something backward isn't to arrive at the approved psychological vocabulary.

It's to understand your experience more accurately.

Maybe uncertainty itself is incredibly difficult for you.

Maybe silence has meant something very specific in other relationships.

Maybe there is an agreement being broken.

Maybe you've been noticing distance for weeks, and the unanswered text is one more piece of information.

Or maybe you simply value responsiveness and are discovering that this relationship doesn't offer enough of it for you.

We aren't looking for the answer we're supposed to find.

We're looking for the one that's actually there.

The hope of relief can make something feel necessary.

Once we believe a particular outcome will make an uncomfortable feeling stop, we can begin placing a lot of hope in that thing happening.

The hope of relief can make the outcome feel less like something we want and more like something we urgently need to happen.

And sometimes hope is part of the problem because it is misplaced.

We may keep hoping someone will respond differently despite repeatedly being shown that they won't.

We may hope the next conversation will finally give us the answer, apology, reassurance, or understanding we've been trying to get.

We may hope that if we explain ourselves clearly enough, wait long enough, try differently, or ask one more time, something will finally change.

Misplaced hope can create expectation.

Expectation can create pressure.

And under enough pressure, we may begin working harder and harder to secure the outcome we're hoping for.

Sometimes we become so focused on getting the outcome that promises relief that we stop listening to ourselves in the process.

That is where self-abandonment can begin.

We override what we're feeling. Dismiss what we need. Question what we're seeing. Stay focused on what could happen while becoming less connected to what is happening.

And eventually we may find ourselves anxious, low, confused, or ashamed without fully understanding how we got there.

All we know is:

I need this to happen.

But underneath that urgency may be another piece of information:

I need the relief I believe this will give me.

So now we have somewhere else to look.

What am I hoping this will relieve?

Then come back to what is happening now.

Following something backward can help us understand what is happening inside us.

But understanding our history should not require us to ignore our present.

Maybe an old fear is showing up in a new situation.

And maybe the situation in front of us really is inconsistent, unavailable, unpredictable, or painful.

Both deserve our attention.

So while we're asking:

What is happening inside me?

we also need to ask:

What is actually happening in front of me?

This is especially important when hope is involved.

Okay.

What am I being shown while I wait for it?

That question can be difficult because sometimes the information in front of us isn't the information we wanted.

Understanding it doesn't require us to like it.

It asks us to let what we're being shown become part of the information we use, even when we wish it were different.

Otherwise, we can become very good at understanding why we're hurting while continuing to organize our lives around the hope that the thing hurting us will eventually become something else.

The question you ask matters.

Following something backward doesn't mean asking why over and over again.

Those questions can quickly start sounding like an interrogation.

Try questions that help you discover what happens next:

You don't need to ask all of them.

You're looking for the question that opens the next door.

Sometimes the answer will surprise you.

Sometimes you'll already know it.

And sometimes you'll reach a point where the most accurate answer is:

I don't know yet.

That's information too.

Understanding gives you more places to go.

Before any of this, the situation may feel simple:

I need them to text me back.

There is one problem and one apparent solution.

After following it backward, I may understand something more:

I'm afraid this silence means they're pulling away, and I'm looking for relief from that fear.

And when I return to the present, I may notice something else:

I've been trying repeatedly to get reassurance from someone who has consistently been unavailable.

Or:

This person is usually responsive. Nothing about this relationship suggests something is wrong. An old fear may be filling in information I don't actually have.

Those discoveries lead to very different places.

I can still want the text.

I can still ask for responsive communication.

I can recognize an old fear and choose not to act on it immediately.

I can ask for reassurance.

I can notice that I've been repeatedly seeking reassurance and decide to respond differently.

I can recognize that what I keep calling anxiety may also contain information about a relationship that isn't working for me.

I can set a boundary.

I can wait.

I can ask another question.

I can decide I don't know yet.

Understanding why you feel something doesn't make the feeling disappear. It gives you more choices about what you do with it.

Follow it backward. Then come back.

The next time something feels unusually urgent, compelling, or necessary, you don't have to immediately make yourself stop wanting it.

Start where you are.

What am I hoping will happen?

What am I hoping I'll feel when it does?

And if the answer is relief:

Relief from what?

Follow it backward.

See what you find.

And then come back to where you are now.

Ask what is happening inside you.

Ask what is actually happening in front of you.

Neither one has to cancel out the other.

You aren't following the thread backward so you can stay there.

You're following it backward so you can understand what you're carrying when you move forward.