Nice Girl Syndrome

There have been many names for the woman who endlessly pleases, says yes when she means no, and sacrifices her own needs for another.

Interestingly, the labels most given to this type of woman are endearing, positive, even promoted. But my favourite one is The Nice Girl.

This sacrificial archetype is praised. She is told, over and over, how kind she is; how much she is appreciated.

Yet behind the scenes, brewing inside of the nice girl, is a story that is often too inconvenient and uncomfortable to share.

It’s an old story, one that gets swept to the margins (for good reason), so I’ll tell it as I see it.

The Nice Girl moves about her world anticipating the needs and wants of others. She is highly attuned and sensitive to her surroundings.

She is intuitive. She can read a room in under a minute.

She often goes by the name of Healer, Helper, Guide, Coach.

But under the surface she’s exhausted. After all, she says yes when she means no and the entire scaffolding of her life has been arranged to serve.

She’s good and angry. Mostly at herself. You see the merry-go-round of pleasing and sacrificing has set her own needs adrift. She no longer has an anchor, a voice, a foundation of Self.

She has left herself unattended in pursuit of attending others. Of course, she believes in the dark corners of her childish heart that if she attends to others then she will be loved, seen, appreciated, needed, accepted.

It is not an unselfish act, however innocent in pursuit.

If its all gone on long enough, her body begins to mimic her self-desertion. The body is smart and relentlessly honest. It shows her how this goes when it goes unchecked.

Autoimmunity (my own personal brand of self-sacrifice) is just one of the ways the body will present with Nice Girl Syndrome.

There is a reason over 80% of autoimmune sufferers are women. Go figure.

After all, life imitates art.

Her body is telling her enough!

It is a radical act of self-love.

One early morning, after a sleepless night, she sees it. She sees the intricate web she has woven. She sees how horrifically beautiful it is. A web based not on her own truth, but on a long standing relationship with unrelenting insecurity.

She realizes that the web of her own making is a prison and she has no idea how to create a new landscape.

But with the realization comes a doorway.

She stands in front of it, terrified, not knowing what it will look like on the other side.

She also knows that she can’t stay where she is; that maintaining the persona that has informed all of her life will surely take her out if she doesn’t flip a switch.

This flipping of the switch does not (contrary to her worried mind) turn her into some self-serving shrew. No. She’s lived her life far too attuned and compassionate to go that way.

It simply asks her to tell the truth.

No matter what.

This means, she must be prepared to disappoint people, to say no when she means no, to advocate for herself before another.

It asks her to put on her oxygen mask first.

At first, this feels overwhelming and scary as hell. She’s certain she will be resented, disapproved of, and maybe even rejected.

Rejection is her trauma. It feels like death to her.

But she must carry on. She cannot carry these burdens anymore.

The people that leave and reject, she realizes with a certain relief, were never in her corner anyway. They were only there for what she could give them.

Okay, this is good.

She knows that when she fills her own cup she shows up a brighter light. And, of course, this is why she came here in the first place.

The brightest lights are the first to turn down their own dimmer switch.

It’s all so ironic.

“NO” becomes her new best friend.

“I’LL NEED TO THINK ABOUT IT” becomes a constant ally.

“NOT RIGHT NOW” is pretty up there too.

She learns how to pause, feel into herself, and speak truthfully. It is foreign territory. But the landscape is breathtaking, wild and beautiful.

Of course, I am this girl. Many of you are too. There is only one way out of this self-made prison.

Exit stage left and come back home to yourself; to your truth.

As unpracticed, awkward and scary as that might be, the alternative is too bleak. And it needn’t be.

The world doesn’t need any more martyrs. It needs honesty.

And we all know that it is only the Truth that sets you free.