When We Center Ourselves in Other People’s Lives

By Frankie Alisha

There’s a subtle but powerful emotional habit I’ve been noticing...in myself, in clients, in just being human. It’s the tendency to center ourselves in someone else’s life, and then build entire emotional narratives around how we believe they should show up for us.
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It sounds like this:

​“They didn’t speak to me when they passed. I must have done something wrong.”

“They haven’t checked in, they must be mad, or maybe I don’t matter to them.”

We take someone else’s behavior, silence, delay, or absence and we make it about us. We interpret their actions (or inaction) through the lens of our own worth, our own fears, our own need to be seen or reassured. This kind of thinking sets us up for disappointment, every single time.
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Honestly, most of the time, people are simply living their lives. They’re navigating grief, stress, fatigue, joy, celebration, distraction, or survival. And they’re doing it through their lens, not ours. When we expect someone to behave with us as their focal point, especially during their own difficult season, we place a demand on them to de-center themselves and center us instead. That’s a heavy ask.

We all deserve connection, yes. We deserve relationships that feel mutual, warm, and safe. But we have to hold that truth alongside another one: not everything is about us. Not every missed text or unreturned call is a rejection. Sometimes people are just trying to keep their head above water. And yet, we often do this too, especially when we’re the ones struggling. We experience something painful or even beautiful, and rather than fully being in that moment, our mind rushes to “how will this come across to others?” or “what do I need to do to not disappoint someone else right now?” Even better, we think of how we can capture this moment to 'present' it to others either in person or on social media.

It keeps us from fully inhabiting our own lives. It makes joy harder to feel. It makes hardship even heavier.

I’ve come to realize that centering ourselves in other people’s lives isn’t just emotionally draining, it can also be quietly self-centered. Not in a harsh or shameful way, but in a very human way. A way that says: I need to be seen so badly that I’ll assume your silence is about me. In other words, I am so desperate for attention that your inattention becomes the headline for the made-up story in my head. Usually, it's a story that evokes an unpleasant emotion but it still  fulfills my need for attention in the moment. 

What if we softened that story? What if we said: “Maybe they’re going through something. Maybe this isn’t personal.”
And then followed that up with: “And I can still take care of what I need emotionally, without building a narrative around their behavior.”

That’s where peace lives. That’s where emotional maturity grows. What would it feel like today to take yourself out of the center of someone else’s story and gently place yourself at the center of your own?