Unspoken needs, emotional effort, and why relationships can sometimes feel one-sided

Sometimes the hardest part is wondering where you stand.

5 April – written by Katrin Kemmerzehl – Blog

There are moments that don’t seem like much on the surface.

You realise you’ve been the one to send the last few messages.

You think about inviting someone for coffee or suggesting a meet-up, but hesitate because you asked last time.

You see photos online and hadn’t realised people were meeting up.

Or perhaps you decide not to message this time because part of you wants to know what would happen if you didn’t.

Nothing terrible has happened and no one has been unkind.

And yet, something doesn’t sit right.

Most of us know this feeling in some form. Because this isn’t only about other people. It’s also about the needs we carry within ourselves: the wish to feel wanted, remembered, included, and important to the people we care about. A sense of belonging and connection is a fundamental human need (Maslow, 1943).

When Relationships Feel Uneven

Many people know what it’s like to care deeply about their relationships and still feel as though they’re carrying more of them than they would like.

You might be the person who checks in, remembers birthdays, or is usually the one making plans.

You might notice that if you don’t send the message, organise the get-together, or suggest meeting up, things often go quiet.

You might wonder:

Would we still be in touch if I stopped trying so hard?

Relationships are rarely perfectly equal all of the time. We all have periods when we need more from other people and times when we have more to give.

But when the imbalance becomes familiar, it can leave us feeling tired, disappointed, or as though we somehow have to earn our place in other people’s lives. Research suggests that our sense of self-worth is closely linked to our experiences of belonging and acceptance in relationships (Leary & Baumeister, 2000).

The Needs We Don’t Always Admit To

People don’t usually come to therapy saying, “I have needs I’m not expressing.”

It sounds more like:

“I always seem to care more than other people do.”

“I don’t know why I keep ending up in these friendships or relationships.”

“I wish I didn’t take things so personally.”

“Maybe I just expect too much.”

Underneath, there is often something deeply human.

Most of us want to feel that we matter to other people. We want to feel remembered, included, and held in mind. We want to know that the people we care about also care about us and that the effort of staying connected doesn’t rest entirely on our shoulders.

Existential therapist Irvin Yalom (1980) wrote about our deep longing for connection and the painful reality that, at times, we can feel profoundly alone even when surrounded by other people. In many ways, relationships ask us to live with this tension: our need for closeness and our uncertainty about our place in the lives of others.

These longings are not signs that we are needy or asking for too much. They are ordinary parts of being human.

And yet, many people find themselves pushing these needs aside. Because asking for more can feel risky. You might tell yourself:

They’re probably just busy.

I don’t want to bother them.

Maybe I’m asking for too much.

I should be grateful for what I have.

So, you put those feelings to one side and carry on as you always have, reaching out, making plans, and hoping that, with time, you’ll feel a little more wanted and a little less like you’re carrying the relationship on your own.

The Effort That Often Goes Unnoticed

There’s a kind of effort that often goes unseen, even by the person doing it.

It’s the work of keeping relationships going: remembering birthdays, checking in after a difficult week, sending the message after a long silence, thinking about who hasn’t been included, trying to smooth things over after a misunderstanding.

Sociologist Arlie Hochschild (1983) described this kind of often invisible effort as emotional labour.

There’s nothing wrong with being thoughtful, caring, or invested in other people. These qualities can bring warmth and depth to relationships.

The difficulty comes when it starts to feel as though your needs come last and all of the effort is flowing in one direction.

Over time, you may begin to wonder why relationships seem to require so much from you.

Or why closeness sometimes comes with a lingering sense that you’re not getting back what you’re giving.

The Feeling of Never Quite Being Enough

When relationships feel uneven for a long time, something else can begin to happen. Instead of wondering whether a relationship is meeting your needs, you may begin to wonder whether you are the problem.

Perhaps you’re too sensitive.

Too much.

Too needy.

Or somehow not enough.

A friendship fading can begin to feel like proof that you don’t matter.

Being left out can evoke difficult feelings. A delayed message or cancelled plan can stir up much bigger questions about your place in someone’s life.

Over time, some people begin to carry an unspoken belief that they need to try harder, give more, or ask for less in order to keep relationships.

They may find themselves in friendships where they do most of the reaching out, or relationships where they spend a lot of time wondering where they stand.

Instead of asking, “Is this relationship giving me what I need?” people often find themselves asking, “What am I doing wrong?”

Experiences of closeness and belonging can have a powerful influence on how we see ourselves. When relationships feel uncertain or one-sided, it’s easy to start questioning our own worth rather than the relationship itself (Leary & Baumeister, 2000).

Over time, these experiences can become familiar. We may slip into the same roles in different relationships, giving more, asking for less, and hoping that if we try a little harder things will feel different. Psychoanalytic thinkers have long been interested in our tendency to return to familiar ways of relating, even when another part of us longs for something different (Freud, 1920; Mitchell, 1988).

Familiar Patterns

Sometimes people notice that they keep ending up in similar relationships.

Different people, different circumstances, but a recognisable feeling of giving more, waiting longer, or wondering where they stand.

Sometimes we can find ourselves in relationships that feel strangely familiar, where we end up giving more than we receive while still hoping that, in time, the relationship will feel more mutual (Freud, 1920; Mitchell, 1988).

This doesn’t mean that we consciously choose relationships that leave us feeling disappointed or unseen. Often, these patterns reflect the ways we’ve learned to seek closeness and connection.

If earlier in life, relationships felt uncertain or something that had to be worked for, we may carry some of those expectations into our adult relationships. Research suggests that our early experiences can shape how we experience closeness, uncertainty, and belonging throughout life (Fraley, 2019).

These patterns are understandable ways of trying to stay connected and to find our place with other people.

And sometimes, noticing these familiar patterns can be the beginning of something different. Instead of asking, “Why do I keep getting this wrong?”, we might slowly begin to wonder, “What kind of relationships help me feel wanted, valued, and more like myself?”

Neurodiversity and the Search for Belonging

For some people, these experiences can carry an extra layer.

Many neurodivergent people find themselves putting a great deal of thought and effort into their relationships. They may replay interactions, pay close attention to other people, or work hard to understand what is expected of them. For some autistic, ADHD, and AuDHD adults, this can be accompanied by a long-standing sense of being different or of having to work a little harder to connect with other people and to feel that they belong (Attwood, 2007; Fraley, 2019).

If you’ve often felt different, misunderstood, or left out, it’s understandable that moments of imbalance or uncertainty in relationships might carry a little more weight. For some people, particularly those who experience rejection sensitivity, a delayed reply, a change in tone, or feeling excluded can stir up a much deeper fear of not mattering or of losing connection. Experiences of belonging and exclusion can shape how we see ourselves and what we come to expect from relationships (Corbisiero et al., 2017; Leary & Baumeister, 2000).

Over time, it can become easy to assume that we need to try harder, ask for less, or adapt more in order to maintain our relationships with others. At the same time, there is no single right way to do relationships. Many people find that they feel more at ease in relationships where there is space for different ways of communicating, connecting, and being close.

Taking Our Needs Seriously

Philosophers and therapists have long written about our need for connection and belonging. To be human is, in part, to depend on other people and to hope that we matter to them (Yalom, 1980).

Because of that, relationships can bring some of our deepest joys and some of our deepest uncertainties. We all carry a longing to feel seen, valued, and to know that we have a place in the lives of other people. As Erich Fromm (1956) suggested, our need for connection and relatedness is fundamental to being human, and with it comes the wish to feel that we matter to others.

Wanting to feel chosen, included, and important to other people is not a weakness or a sign that you’re asking for too much. These longings speak to our desire to love, to belong, and to feel connected.

At times, we can become hard on ourselves for having these longings. We may wonder whether we should need less, be more independent, or be less affected by what happens in our relationships.

But often our longings are not problems to solve. They are part of what it means to care, to love, and to be in relationship with other people.

Perhaps part of a good enough life is not learning to need less from others or becoming completely self-sufficient. Perhaps it’s learning to take our longings seriously, to meet ourselves with kindness, and to build relationships where we can feel more at ease and more ourselves.

Self-Compassion and Our Need for Connection

Psychologist Kristin Neff (2003) describes self-compassion as responding to ourselves with understanding rather than criticism, particularly in moments of pain or disappointment.

Sometimes self-compassion begins with recognising that our wish to feel chosen, valued, and included makes sense.

Perhaps your disappointment says something about how much relationships matter to you.

And perhaps the part of you that longs for relationships to feel a little more mutual deserves kindness and understanding.

A Space to Think About This Differently

Therapy can support you in staying connected to your caring nature and your needs for others, while also becoming more curious about the relationships you find yourself in and the roles you tend to take within them.

Why do I find it hard to ask for more?

Why do I work so hard to keep certain relationships going?

What do I need in order to feel valued and connected?

What kind of relationships allow me to feel more like myself?

Carl Rogers (1957) wrote about the importance of being deeply understood and accepted in therapy. Often, when people experience this kind of space, something begins to shift.

Over time, we may become more aware of what we need from relationships and more compassionate towards the parts of ourselves that long to feel close and valued. Relationships can begin to feel less like hard work and more like places where we can rest a little more into being ourselves.

Therapy can offer a space to explore these experiences at your own pace and to think together about the kinds of relationships that help you feel more at home with yourself and with others.

If you’d like to explore this, please feel free to get in touch.

References

Katrin Kemmerzehl
I am a qualified psychotherapeutic counsellor in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Please get in touch if you’re interested in arranging a consultation.