“I Don’t Even Like Doing That…”

What Happens When We Shrink Our Own Desires (and How Healing Restores Them)

Lately, I’ve been sitting with a question that surprised me with how much it stirred inside:

“When did I start telling myself I don’t like doing things?”

Not because I truly didn’t enjoy them… but because someone else didn’t want to do them with me.

For years, that became a quiet defense mechanism.

If I was left out, turned down, or brushed aside, I’d say:

“It’s fine. I didn’t want that anyway.”

It felt safer than facing the sting of rejection. It softened the ache of being unwanted. It made loneliness easier to swallow.

But over time, I realized something painful:

I wasn’t protecting myself — I was shrinking myself.

That coping strategy taught me to quiet my wants, dim my joy, and treat someone else’s inability to choose me as proof that I should hide my light. Once I saw that I was shrinking myself by doing that… I couldn’t unsee it.

My Story: Wanting to Be Chosen

When I was married, I longed for a sense of emotional safety — to feel like my presence mattered and belonged. I wanted to build memories side by side, because quality time has always been one of the ways I feel deeply connected. I didn’t need big trips or extravagant gestures, just the simple, ordinary moments that make life feel beautiful. I wanted to:

• go get ice cream together

• roam a garden center and pick out plants

• look up at the stars at night

• work on little house projects side by side

Those were the kinds of moments I hoped would knit us together — the everyday shared experiences that make two lives feel intertwined. But instead, I often found myself on the outside of his world. He didn’t want to do those things with me, and over time it felt like he didn’t want to do much of anything by my side at all.

I watched him light up at invitations from friends — even acquaintances and strangers at times. Dinners. Late-night laughs. Outings. Shared hobbies. Many of the simple joys that I longed to share with him.

Slowly, a quiet ache settled in — one it took me a long time to put words to. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy those things. It was that he didn’t want to experience them with me.

That realization cracked something open in me. Because when someone you love doesn’t choose you, it’s easy to start believing you’re not worth choosing.

To soften that hurt, I started telling myself I didn’t really want those things anyway.

But that was never the truth. I did want them. I still do.

I just didn’t want them alone.

Is This a “Bad” Coping Mechanism?

Honestly? No.

It makes sense.

Our brains try to protect us from disappointment by minimizing what we desire. If I pretended, I didn’t want it, then I wouldn’t have to feel the grief of being overlooked.

It’s emotional bubble wrap for a bruised heart.

But there’s a cost.

When you keep pretending something doesn’t matter, eventually your heart starts to listen. Joy blurs around the edges, play starts to feel unfamiliar, and the parts of you that once glowed begin to fade into the background. That’s when the coping pattern stops serving us and starts stealing from us.

Trauma Recovery Is a Rising

When rejection has been familiar, healing isn’t just about returning to who you were before the shrinking began.

It’s also about growing into who you’re becoming — like a phoenix refined by the fire.

It’s a coming back to yourself, yes: Your joy, your wants, your voice, your spark.

It’s also a coming forward: into strength, clarity, and wholeness; into aliveness instead of numbness. Into a version of you that isn’t dimmed, silenced, or dead inside.

Healing invites:

• Self-discovery — What genuinely lights me up?

• Self-permission — Can I allow myself to want again, without apology?

• Self-compassion — Can I hold the ache tenderly, without turning it into self-blame?

Here’s the truth I wish I had known sooner:

Someone not choosing you was never a verdict on your worth, your lovability, or your light.

Their absence is not a measurement of your value, your beauty, or your capacity for love.

In my case, it wasn’t about just about capacity — he had plenty of opportunities to show kindness, connection, and care. He chose cruelty instead. Narcissistic abuse, emotional withholding, and manipulation weren’t reflections of my worth — they were revelations of his character.

His refusal to show up with empathy was never a measurement of me.

It exposed the hollowness in him.

Does this resonate with you? If it does, I want to share some hope- We get to rise. We get to reclaim joy.

We get to burn away what harmed us and step forward radiant, whole, and very much alive.

Like the phoenix. Returning. Becoming. Bright again.

Healing Steps

If you’ve ever minimized your desires to protect your heart, here are gentle ways to begin reclaiming yourself:

1. Notice When You Downplay What You Want

Pause when you hear yourself saying:

• “I don’t really care.”

• “It’s whatever.”

• “I’m fine either way.”

Ask yourself quietly: “Do I truly not want this — or did someone once make me feel unwanted here?”

Awareness is the first doorway back to yourself.

2. Make a List of Things You Once Loved

Let it be simple:

• places

• rituals

• hobbies

• ordinary joys

Write down the things you stopped asking for because someone didn’t join you. They’re stepping stones back to your light.

Here are a few things on my list:

         Church bells

         Back roads

         Flowering trees

         Plaid, Denim, Lace & Pearls,

        Leaves falling from the trees

         Sunsets & Sunrises

3. Give Yourself Permission to Want Again

The things that light you up matter. They’re proof that your heart still believes life can be beautiful.

Take yourself for ice cream. Pick out a plant that makes you smile. Sit under the stars. Do the house project anyway — crooked shelf and all.

You’re allowed to enjoy beauty, even if someone once refused to share it with you.

4. Validate the Hurt

Don’t rush past it or shame yourself for feeling wounded.

Say gently: “That mattered to me. It makes sense that it hurt.”

Let your feelings be real- they’re part of the story you lived through.

5. Separate Their Choices from Your Worth

Someone else’s distance, avoidance, neglect, or indifference was never a reflection of you — and it was never proof that the joy you offered wasn’t worth sharing.

You were not “too much. ” You were not worthless. You were not uninteresting.

You were a human longing for connection — and that is never a flaw.

What I Know Now

I don’t have to dim the things that matter to me just because someone once refused to honor them. I don’t have to bury joy to protect myself from disappointment. And I don’t have to pretend I’m indifferent when something truly matters to my heart.

I’m allowed to want laughter. I’m allowed to want shared meals, slow plant-shopping days, stargazing nights, and simple side-by-side moments. I’m allowed to want happiness — in all the ways it shows up.

So are you.

Healing isn’t only about releasing the people who harmed you —it’s also about gathering back every tender part of yourself that you once learned to hide, hush, or shrink.