For a very long time, I prided myself in my ability to connect with people, even people I’d just met. Somehow, I was able to strike deep conversations with strangers at a bus stop, acquaintances from work, and even sustain conversational depth with long-time friends. At some point, I thought I should have pursued therapy as a profession, after all, why did I succeed so easily in getting people to open up to me. I was often told that I was really good at listening and “just understood.”
I internalized this too. Being the go-to friend, the advice giver, the one who held space for others, the comforter…so much so that I learned to put my problems on the back burner. I didn’t do this entirely though, I would share just enough to make others feel connected to me, and only ever revealed my problems on a superficial level but never at the core. Often, my recipients were a bit preoccupied with their own issues to detect my lack of depth (depth by my own standards, and not what others perceived it to be).
As a result, I’ve become this person, not comfortable enough to share my issues in their entirety, not necessarily because I don’t feel they’re important enough to share, but because I will more often than not, let the other person occupy the conversation, and if there’s time and space at the end, I’ll include myself.
This year, I started recognizing this in myself and the patterns among those I talk to. The other day, I was speaking to a family member on the phone and realized midway through the call that I wanted so badly to escape that conversation. I wanted to hang up and text that my battery died or I’d lost reception or make up some other lie. Please let me go. Not because I had other things to do, but because it was so overwhelming. I felt a consuming wave of resentment wash over me.
With each passing week, I started to notice this feeling more and more when I spoke to certain people. I would eventually make up an excuse of why I needed to go or what I needed to do, often timing the calls because I couldn’t continue. You know that feeling when you’re holding your breathe underwater for too long and are swimming to the surface but you can’t seem to reach it, and when you finally do, there’s a huge wave of relief? That’s how I often felt after these calls.
Over time, I started dreading answering calls from specific people. On a subsequent call with that same family member, the feeling crept in again, and built up to the point where I stopped them mid-sentence and asked, “Have you ever called to ask about how I’m doing?”. Silence. “Seriously, when was the last time you asked me how I’m doing, or how work was, or what’s going on in my life.” More silence. I was met with, “I thought everything was okay since you never talk about it.” My instinctual response was to say, “I never talk about anything because you never give me space to, the call starts and ends with you.” But I didn’t. I felt guilty for my outburst, even though to some extent, I felt like I had every right to. My response was a simple, “Just try to check up on me sometimes.” The rest of the call was very awkward.
I learned the word “Emotional Dumping” recently and was so relieved to find a phrase that summed up what I had been experiencing.
“Emotional dumping feels toxic, overwhelms the listener with many issues, repetition, blaming others, playing the victim, taking no accountability, and not being open to solutions. When you emotionally dump you are unaware of both your own emotional state and the state of the listener. Emotional dumping does not include the consent of the listener and ignores containment within time, topic, and objective. Because emotional dumping doesn’t respect the consent and boundaries of the listener, listeners often feel drained or agitated by the interaction.”
-Journeyhome.com
Whew. After finding that definition and sitting with my own feelings, I came to the realization that I had become several people’s emotional dumpster. At a point, I don’t think I was perceived as a regular human being with the same problems that everyone had. Because I didn’t interject it in these conversations, my feelings didn’t exist. But could I really blame anyone for whom I now served in this role? Wasn’t it my job to ensure that I established boundaries? Should I have expected everyone else to have the same considerations for me?
Now hear me out, I’m not saying that these people don’t care for or consider me, because it’s very easy to be consumed by what we have going on and seek out a stable listening ear. While I’m usually happy to provide that, I think I’ve reached my limit.
I’m not innocent either. I’ve been guilty of this when I had issues that severely affected my mental and emotional state. Mr. Epic has unfortunately borne the burden of this, and over time, even I could sense that he was feeling the exact same way I described. Sadly, this didn’t deter me from continuing in my dump session. Why? There was no boundary placed for me. Since having these new feelings, I have an appreciation for, but also feel sorry for all the friends I’ve put through these dumps in the past. It can be hard not to dump on someone when we are feeling extremely overwhelmed.
So what’s the way forward? Boundaries! Setting boundaries for those who you’ve become a dumpster truck for. Boundaries have always been a hard one for me because growing up in the Nigerian culture, boundaries are basically non-existent. You’re expected to be available to everyone all the time, especially if they’re family.
If you’re wondering what this looks like, it could be:
- not picking up a phone call or canceling plans because you’re not in the right frame of mind to be dumped on
- picking up a call and then telling the person that you’re not in the mind space to be dumped on
- stopping someone halfway through a dump session (if they made it past 1 & 2) and letting them know you’ll reach back out when you feel more receptive
- straight-up telling them you’d rather talk about something else.
These are all very hard things to do. You’ll likely be consumed by intense feelings of guilt and shame either from the person you’ve set the boundary with, or your own conscience. When this happens, stand firm on that boundary (no backtracking). Because truthfully, making yourself sit through the dumping sessions will eventually make you resentful. Like it did me.
How not to be an emotional dumper yourself?
- If you reach out to someone, ask if they’re in the right frame of mind to listen to you. Asking permission gives this person the freedom to say yes or no, and takes their own emotional state into consideration.
- In the heightened state where all you want to do is drown someone else in your dump, practice other ways to release tension. For some, it’s yoga, meditation, journaling, praying to God or a higher power, sleep, vigorous exercise, just whatever relaxes you.
I wrote this post at the beginning of 2022, and since then, I’ve made a lot of progress around boundaries and stopping dumps in their tracks. How do I know this? I’ve gotten comments like, “You’re not as patient,” “You don’t listen anymore,” and I’m also getting fewer and fewer calls for those types of conversations from people I have enforced boundaries with. These comments from others aren’t necessarily true, but they come from a decision to put myself and my mental state first. My role in these people’s lives has changed, and honestly, I’m 1000% okay with that.
This is to encourage you, dear reader, to start setting boundaries around dumping today. For family, friends, partners, etc. I am a recovering emotional dumper myself and occasionally slip up. But the goal here isn’t to be perfect but to work towards a clearer and less resentful head space.
You can do it, I believe in you.