I played a game I hated every Sunday...

Every Sunday, I'd pull into their driveway and feel this rush of excitement. Some of my favorite people, all in one room. The kind of easy conversation where everyone's talking over each other and nobody minds.

For the first hour, we'd catch up. Share stories from the week. Someone would say something ridiculous and we'd lose ten minutes laughing about it. I loved that hour.

Then someone would say, "Okay...should we grab the dice?"

And just like that, the feeling would shift. Not dramatically...more like a slow leak. Oh right. We have to do this too.

My friend group had gotten really into Dungeons & Dragons towards the end of COVID. I'd never played it in my life (in fact, I'm really not even a board game kind of person.) But I was curious enough to try it. What I didn't know was that "trying it" meant five hours of my Sunday...nearly every week...for months.

I hated it.

I was literally falling asleep at the table. I'd have to keep eating snacks just to stay awake. I didn't understand how any of the points worked. I never bothered figuring out the character sheets. I could barely follow the story. I never once thought about the game between sessions...it only existed for me when the dice box came out.

And yet I kept showing up.

I wasn't there for the game. I was there for them. I'd never had a friend group that met every single week before, and when you see people that often, the bond deepens fast. I loved these people. I still do.

So I made a trade I didn't even realize I was making: nearly five hours of something that drained me...for one hour of something that filled me up.

I tried to set boundaries, like leaving by a certain time. (Four hours instead of five, oh boy!) But even those small compromises felt enormous...because in my head, pushing back on the game meant risking the thing I actually wanted. The connection.

I never said "I don't want to play anymore." I think they could tell I wasn't exactly invested (hard to hide when you're dozing off mid-campaign). But I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. What if, without the game, we stopped meeting every week? What if being honest cost me the one thing I was showing up for?

So I kept playing.

It ended when we moved states...not because I finally spoke up, not because I got honest about what I needed... but bcecause the geography literally changed, and the decision got made for me.

(They're still playing, by the way. And I'm genuinely happy about that...they love it. It was always real for them.)

But looking back, I wish I'd just said it: "I love you guys. But I am not playing this game anymore. I would rather just be with you."

And honestly? I think they would have preferred that too.

Most people would call what I was doing "people-pleasing". And yeah...that's definitely a big part of it. Showing up every week to keep everyone happy. Swallowing what I wanted to keep the peace. Classic.

But when I read Martha Beck's Finding Your Own North Star, she named something that went deeper than just people-pleasing. She writes about two selves that live inside all of us: your Essential Self and your Social Self.

My Essential Self is the one who knew exactly what she needed — connection, quality time, real conversation. She's the one who lit up during that first hour. Who would have shown up every week just to sit and talk. She was also the one falling asleep at the table...because she was telling me, clearly, this is not what I enjoy doing.

My Social Self is the one who kept me glued to that chair. She said: the price of admission for these friendships is five hours of something you hate. Pay it. She wasn't being cruel...she was trying to protect something I genuinely needed. But she was terrified that "this isn't for me" meant losing them. So she negotiated how much of myself to give away...instead of asking for what I actually wanted.

That's the part that people-pleasing doesn't quite capture. It's not just about being too nice or not having boundaries. It's a whole version of you..the one that learned early how to read a room, how to keep people close, how to make sure you're still invited back...quietly running the show.

And this didn't just show up on Sunday game nights. I could see the same pattern in my career...saying yes to every opportunity not because I wanted to, but because saying no felt like risking stability. Or tolerating situations I didn't want to be in because something I needed was wrapped inside them. I tended to always negotiate the terms...never questioning the trade.

The Social Self doesn't make obviously bad decisions. She makes decisions that look like yours...but aren't. And it's important to remember that she's not the enemy! She's still trying to protect you and the intention is good.

But when you lose sight of your Essential Self...even the best intentions stop being authentic to what you actually need. You can act out of love and self-preservation and still end up spending your energy on something that doesn't light you up.

If you've ever caught yourself tolerating something you don't want because you're afraid of losing what comes with it...you might recognize this imbalance between your Essential Self and Social Self too.

You don't have to do anything about it yet. Just start noticing which version of you is running the show.

🪷 Nora