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Dr. Julia Bowlin: [00:00:00] Relational BS is what happens when loyalty quietly turns into self abandonment.
Let's start here. Most of what keeps us stuck isn't a lack of motivation, discipline, or desire. It's a quiet internal beliefs that we've normalized, assumptions that we've absorbed and rules we never agreed to. And expectations we inherited without question. This month we're breaking up that internal bs, not through force or pressure, but through awareness.
Because awareness restores choice and choice folks that restores power. Nothing here is about fixing you because you're not broken. I've saved this over and over again, but sometimes we feel that way. This is really about seeing clearly what's been running in the background and deciding what is no longer gets to run the show.
So before we go any further, this is your internal BS breakup, [00:01:00] and the only thing we're ending today is the relationship with beliefs that were never true or kind to begin with. Relational BS is what happens when loyalty quietly turns into self abandonment, and everyone else calls it love or teamwork or just how things are, but we're not meant to self-sacrifice in the name of loyalty.
Think about that. So let's talk about what are these unseen contracts that we've had with ourselves that have been running our relationships that we haven't been checking? Most relationship strain doesn't start with a fight. It starts with a morning, someone wakes up earlier, someone else sleeps through the alarm, someone makes the coffee, but it's the same person again and again without discussion.
It might be the dishes from last night are still there. No one might say anything because it just feels petty, because it feels small, because this isn't worth bringing it [00:02:00] up. But here's the thing that most people miss. Relationships aren't built on big moments. They're built on a thousand tiny unspoken agreements.
Who gets up first? Who notices the trash? Who replaces the toilet paper? Who remembers the birthdays? Who remembers the calendar and manages it? Who adjusts their mood so the house stays calm? Guilty. I'm so guilty of this. None of these rules are inherently bad. They become toxic when they are assumed instead of chosen, and this is how it usually happens.
At first it feels loving. You notice things you anticipate needs. You smooth edges. You're being thoughtful, capable, maybe even kind in your head. And because it works, it starts to stick. No one ever formally just says, Hey, you are now the emotional logistics manager of this [00:03:00] relationship, but suddenly you are.
You might be the one thinking, did they sleep okay? What kind of day are they gonna have? Shall I bring this up now or wait until later? If I don't do it, it won't get done. Folks, that's not a personality trait. That's a role that you've slid into. And the problem with quiet roles is that they can turn it into invisible contracts and contracts.
Say this, I'll carry this so you don't have to. I'll adapt so we don't have tension. I'll swallow this so we can keep the peace. No one maliciously enforces these contracts. They're upheld by habit, by history, by love, mixed with fear of disruption. I'm gonna say that again. They're held up by habit, by history, because this is all we've ever done.
And by love that is mixed with fear of disrupt. [00:04:00] Then months or even years later, something snaps. You're irritated by the sound of someone's breathing. The coffee cup is being left out. It starts to feel like personal attack. The bathroom issue, like the towel, the toilet seat, the sink becomes the thing that breaks you, even though you know it's not about the towel.
That's not immaturity, that's accumulated silence. Finally asking to be acknowledged. But here's the truth that most people don't want to say out loud. Resentment is rarely about what's happening. It's about what's never been named. And even in the good moments, this shared laughter, the sitting side by side, the doing these fun things together, the joy experience starts to feel differently.
Even though you're together, those moments don't erase the weight of all the unspoken [00:05:00] roles. They just coexist with them. They mesh. You can love somebody deeply and be quietly over-functioning in that relationship Again, guilty. That's why this topic is happening right now. Right? I've done so much work on this topic.
So you can be grateful and exhausted. You can be loyal and slowly disappearing. And when love starts with intensity, that love at first, that deep connection, that shared vision, it can make this even trickier because early closeness often masks imbalance. You're building something together, but no one's checking to see who's carrying what.
Then life changes. Stress arrives, loss shows up, illness, grief, maybe a different season in your life, and suddenly the roles that you've never questioned feel heavier than ever. [00:06:00] This episode isn't about blame, it's about awareness. Because you can't renegotiate a contract that you don't even realizing you're living under.
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Check out the episode specific worksheet in today's podcast. Show notes below. The link is right there for you.
Dr. Julia Bowlin: So I wanna kind of clarify what emotional labor is. It's that work that no one puts on the calendar. It's one of those things that emotional labor is just like one of those phrases that gets tossed around a lot, but it's rarely named in a way that actually lands in the body. So let's ground it. In real life, emotional labor is not doing the dishes.
It's noticing that dishes need to be done. Then deciding when and how to do them. So it doesn't turn into a thing. It's not making the coffee. It's remembering how everyone takes their coffee, anticipating whether today is a talking morning or let's not talk this morning. [00:08:00] I live with that with several people in the house.
My daughter and I are talkers in the morning. My son and their husband are, let's don't talk yet. So sometimes it's deciding what kind of morning it's going to be and then adjusting yourself accordingly. Before your feet even hit the floor. And it's not about sharing the bathroom, it's managing the emotional charge around the bathroom, the towel, the counter, the mirror, the way someone leaves the space.
That silently tells you how much attention or lack of attention was given to a shared environment. And instead of saying something, you might calculate, is this worth it? Do I have the energy for the reaction that may come? I'll screw it. I'm just gonna take care of it again. Guilty. So that calculation, that constant internal cost benefit analysis is what I call [00:09:00] emotional labor.
It's the invisible work of keeping things okay, of keeping things copacetic. And here's the part that matters. Most people doing the emotional labor don't see themselves as martyrs. They see themselves as loving, capable, adaptive, and mature human beings, because they're the one who smooths the edges.
Reads the room, manages timing, absorbs impact holds space. And keeps the relational temperature stable. They often pride themselves on being low maintenance or just easy to get along with, but the nervous system doesn't care how noble the story sounds because emotional labor keeps the body in a constant state of vigilance, always scanning, always tracking, always adjusting, not necessarily in crisis mode.
In chronic readiness, [00:10:00] and ladies and gentlemen, that is exhausting. This is why people can have relationships filled with love, a long shared history, laughter, genuine care, and still feel so completely depleted in ways they just can't quite explain. They're not tired because they're ungrateful, they're tired because they're carrying more of the relational load than they have realized.
And here's where we need to be honest. Emotional labor often increases during stress, illness, grief, or loss. And when someone is struggling, the other person might naturally step up. Folks, that's human, that's love. But if the role is never revisited, never named, never rebalanced, it can quietly become permanent.
You might become the emotional anchor, the steady one, the translator, the one who understands, and the one who [00:11:00] can quote, handle it all. End quote. And suddenly even joyful moments can carry an undercurrent of work. You're together, but you're still holding the emotional perimeter and even love at first.
Those intense early connections can mask this. Everyone feels mutual at that point. Effortless may be even aligned, but in as time passes, as life happens and until someone changes pace. The emotional labor won't. And again, this isn't about blame. Most people are not intentionally offloading their emotional labor.
They're simply accept what's being offered. It seems easy and natural, and the problem isn't that you're capable. It's that capability often goes unquestioned. Does that make sense? And now the body starts to keep score. You might feel it as irritability that [00:12:00] surprises you or fatigue that sleep doesn't fix.
Maybe a shorter fuse than you used to have and maybe just a quiet longing for space. You can't quite name. That's not failure, that's information. That's your body giving you signals. Emotional labor isn't wrong. Unacknowledged emotional labor is because when care isn't shared consciously, it becomes silently unequal and inequality, no matter how loving the intention breeds resentment, not loudly, quietly, slowly, predictably.
Do you ever say or think to yourself, I don't wanna rock the boat. Well, there's a cost, and giving yourself the gift of clarity can be the game changer. Most people think avoiding hard conversations keeps relationships safe, [00:13:00] and sometimes the short term it does. There are moments when choosing softness over.
Immediacy is wise. When someone's exhausted, when grief is fresh. When life is already heavy enough, not every truth needs to be delivered the second you feel it. But here's when things go quietly, sideways, when delay turns into disappearance, when this isn't the right time becomes, there is never a right time.
When peace is preserved on the surface, but tension lives underneath because avoidance doesn't eliminate impact, it just relocates it, and yet. This is important. Clarity isn't only about fixing what's wrong. It's about protecting what's right. Think about the moments that actually work in relationships.
The morning when two people are moving differently, but they're still together, one might wake up early, one might be slow to wake up, me [00:14:00] versus my husband. One might need quiet. Why one needs connection. Me and my husband, I'm not saying these things 'cause I haven't lived them. I have nothing is identical, but it can be coordinated.
It's not because anyone is reading minds, but because at some point someone said, this is how I am and this is how I love. That's clarity. Or the bathroom that's shared, but differently, different standards, different rhythms. But there's an understanding, not silent tolerances, mutual awareness. Those moments don't happen by accident.
They happen because clarity was allowed to exist without threat. Now, contrast with moments where clarity feels dangerous when you're feeling a tightness in your chest before saying something, when your body already anticipates defensiveness on the other person, or withdrawal or attention when you think it's just easier not [00:15:00] to say anything.
That is moral restraint. That is nervous system remembering something, and many people learned early that speaking up disrupted connection, that honesty led to conflict that needs were just inconvenient. So not rocking the boat became a survival skill. And survival skills aren't bad. I've talked about them over and over again.
They're adaptive. But what protected you once may now be limiting your relationships because here's the truth, healthy relationships can hold clarity. They may not love it, but they can survive it. Unhealthy systems depend on silence to stay intact. And here's the positive part that most people miss.
Clarity doesn't just reduce resentment, it deepens intimacy. How about that? Clarity doesn't just reduce resentment, it deepens intimacy. It's what [00:16:00] allows two people to experience the same moment differently and still fill together. Joy doesn't require sameness. Neither does grief. One person may process outwardly, another inwardly, one may wanna talk another, may want to need their own space.
Clarity. Sounds like I'm quiet today, not distant, or I need time alone, not away from you, or I'm overwhelmed, not unhappy with us. Without clarity, differences feel like rejection with clarity, differences feel like information, and this is where love evolves. Early love often thrives on fusion, bringing you to together, but later, love thrives on differentiation with connection.
The ability to say, this is me right now. This is you right now, [00:17:00] and we can still choose each other. Avoidance keeps things smooth, but clarity keeps things real and real is where trust lives. But what happens when love becomes submission and our voices get lost? Most people just don't give up their voice all at once.
They offer it slowly through love and submission. At first, it looks generous. You go along because things just are easier. That way you don't insist because it doesn't matter that much. You let someone else choose the restaurant, the route, the plan, the timeline. Not because you don't have preferences, because you don't want to add stress because you know that they've had a long day because you're just good at adapting.
This kind of yielding can be beautiful. It can be an act of care. It can be a form of love, and the problem isn't flexibility. The [00:18:00] problem is one way, flexibility over time, because when giving is never paired with receiving, something very subtle happens here. Your preferences. Get quieter. Your needs feel less urgent, and your voice starts editing itself before it ever reaches your lips, and often you don't even know it's happening.
It might show up in small everyday moments. Who's driving every time, who decides where to eat every time? Whose schedule becomes the default? More important one. Whose stress gets more accommodated and whose discomfort gets minimalized. And again, this isn't about domination, it's about avoidance. I'm just gonna sit with that for a minute 'cause it's so important.
Sometimes you don't speak up because you [00:19:00] don't want to feel the other person's stress. If plans change, you don't want to deal with their irritation or their overwhelm or their sigh. You just don't wanna create friction, so you might just absorb it instead. And that absorption starts to look like submission, but not the kind rooted in choice or devotion.
It's the kind rooted in self silencing. Over time, this is gonna cost you something. You might begin to feel invisible, not because you're unseen, but because you stopped showing up for yourself. You might feel resentful. Then feel guilty for feeling resentful. You might feel disconnected, but you can't point to a single moment where something went wrong.
And that's because resentment really explodes. It accumulates a little bit at a dime. It builds when needs are postponed, when preferences are dismissed as not that important [00:20:00] when love becomes synonymous with accommodation. And here's the hardest truth in this section. Resentment isn't a sign that you love somebody less, it's a sign that you've just been giving more than you're expressing.
Unspoken needs don't disappear. They turn into irritation, distance withholding, and quiet Bitterness, not because you're unkind, because you're human, and loss changes this even more. When life delivers grief, illness, stress, or long seasons of uncertainty, much like I'm in right now with my husband's cancer, many people double down on self erasure in the name of love.
They become the stable one, the easy one, the one who doesn't need much, but love that requires you to disappear is not sustainable. And over time, even the most devoted heart starts [00:21:00] to ache. This isn't an indictment of partnership, it's an invitation back to mutuality because love doesn't ask you to shrink.
It asks you to stay present with yourself included. So here's a question. Why do you think unclear roles exhaust the nervous system? Because it does. There's a reason that this kind of relational strain doesn't just make people annoyed. It makes them tired, bone tired, edge of their patients tired. Like I don't recognize myself lately tired, and it's not because people like this are being weak or dramatic, it's because our nervous system is doing far more work than it was designed to do.
When rules are unclear, the brain stays alert. Not alarmed. Just on always scanning, always tracking, [00:22:00] always anticipating. The mind is quietly running. Background programs like, who's in a good mood today? What version of them am I getting? Should I bring this up now or later? If I say something, how much fallout will there be?
Is it easier to just handle it myself? That constant calculation is stress, even if no one's yelling, even if everything looks fine from the outside. From a nervous system standpoint, ambiguity is expensive. The body doesn't relax in unclear environments. It braces and bracing over time becomes exhaustion.
This is why people can sleep eight hours and still wake up depleted. Why they can't love deeply and still feel drain. Oh, crimey bracing over time becomes exhaustion. This is why people can sleep eight hours and [00:23:00] still wake up depleted. Why they can love deeply and still feel drained, why they can start snapping over the small things and then feel totally ashamed for it.
Their system isn't broken, it's overloaded. And here's the part that most people don't connect. Clarity is regulating. When expectations are named, the brain can stand down. When roles are shared consciously, the body begins to soften, and when needs are spoken, the system doesn't have to guess anymore. You see, clarity doesn't mean constant conversation.
It means fewer internal negotiations that those stories in your head that churn. It also means fewer internal negotiations means energy starts to return. This is why people feel calmer in relationships when there's honest communication, even when the [00:24:00] conversations are uncomfortable at first because the nervous system prefers truth.
Over tension. It prefers clean discomfort over chronic ambiguity. And here's the hopeful part, when clarity increases, connection usually does too. Not because everything becomes perfect, but because people stop wasting energy, protecting unspoken arrangements, they're becoming more present, more patient.
More available for joy and the body finally gets a break from the relationships. Silent administrator. That's not selfish, that's sustainability. So what does clarity actually look like in real life? Clarity isn't a sit down conversation with perfect wording. It's not this dramatic reveal, and it's definitely not a speech that you're gonna rehearse in your head for three days and then never deliver it.
Welcome the stories in our [00:25:00] head, right? Clarity usually shows up in an ordinary life, kinda circumstance quietly while you're still adapting. And I know this personally, when my husband and I were in medical school together, he was a year ahead of me. That's because he was a year ahead of me. And because of that, he matched for residency before I did, which determined where he was going to move.
And eventually I was going to move for the next three to four years of our training. So when he matched in Chicago, I followed him there. I mean, it was the natural shift for me, but it was big. I came from a really small town and went to a massive city, and that totally freaked me out. I won't lie. And at the time I didn't question it much.
It's just where he matched and I wanted to be with him. That made sense, right? Later when residency ended and it was time to decide where to live next. I stayed open, genuinely open. I didn't have any strong opinions. Honestly. I trusted him. I believed that all his intentions were [00:26:00] good. I had actually put him on a pedestal at that time.
I thought he was almost God-like I loved him so much and he was just such a good human. It is such a good human. So when decisions came up, where we should go next, what should we do tonight? What should we have for dinner? What made sense was just following his lead, what the next move should be. I just deferred it routinely, and it wasn't because I was being pressured, not at all.
And it wasn't because he demanded it, not at all. It was because I didn't speak up at the time. I just felt like it was just okay. And over time, something very subtle happened. My flexibility turned into a pattern. My openness turned into his expectation, and my silence turned into a default authority for him.
Not maliciously, not consciously, not even, you know, [00:27:00] intentionally. Just gradually, and then came a moment that cracked it all open, and it actually led to a separation of her marriage. My mother had given me a painting, one that I adored and loved. I grew up, it meant something to me. It was in the living room and I dreamed about it, daydreamed about it when I was a kid.
So we, my husband and I put it up in the foyer of our new home, and I remembered being so genuinely excited about it. I talked about it. I made a big deal about how much I loved it, and he made a big deal about putting it up for me. This was a big moment for me. I got something very valuable from home that I loved and my husband mounted on the wall where I wanted in our new home.
And the next day I came home and it was gone. And its place was one of his framed museum posters from Chicago that he liked so much. And at first I seriously, at first I thought he was kidding. I honestly thought he was pulling my leg that it was a big joke [00:28:00] because it was just so funny. Right. And later when I asked him about it, he said something so simple and casual.
Well, I didn't like it. Oh. So he had taken it down and put it in the basement storage area. And I still thought he was sort of kidding. But the sucker punch in my heart, in my chest, in my solar plexus, in my head. He had taken it down and put it in the basement, and in that moment it hit me, not just that the painting was gone, but why it felt so painful.
It wasn't about the art or the piece, it was about my voice. I realized I'd submitted so many times, so quietly that his opinion had become the default, even in places that matter deeply to me. And I didn't recognize it at first. I wasn't rationalizing saying that to myself. In fact, all I knew was the emotional [00:29:00] reaction.
And when I finally expressed how hurt I was really expressed, how hurt I was, it turned into one massive fight. His response wasn't honest and revealing. It was cruel. And I remember thinking, I don't get this. It's because he was so used to doing things that being challenged was such a shock. He didn't know how to handle it.
He didn't mean to hurt me intentionally. When he moved to painting, he was doing him. He was doing him. And now I remember thinking he was so used to me not speaking up about what mattered to me. I had trained the system without realizing it, and that moment wasn't about blame. It was a huge clarity moment for me.
That I had to finally break my silence, and this is what I want you to understand. Clarity doesn't usually start as a conflict. It starts as a self-recognition moment like that. It's [00:30:00] noticing I've been deferring without checking in with myself. It's realizing I've been absorbing discomfort to keep things smooth.
It's understanding my silence has been interpreted as consent. I'm gonna say that again 'cause it's so important. It's about noticing. I've been deferring without checking in with myself. It's realizing I've been absorbing discomfort to keep things smooth. Or it might be an understanding that my silence has been interpreted as consent.
Clarity sounds simple. This is what this section's all about. It's clarity. This actually matters to me. I don't want this to be decided without me. Maybe even say, I've been quieter than I realized, and I need to change that. It's no attack. It's not an accusation. There's no rewriting the past or bringing a [00:31:00] past.
It's just presence. And here's the key shift that most people miss. Clarity is not about controlling how the other person responds. It's about editing your own self silencing. Sometimes the other person's going to be surprised. Folks, sometimes they might get defensive, sometimes apologetic, maybe even totally confused.
That doesn't mean you did something wrong. It means that the system is slowly adjusting because when you stop pres absorbing stress, stop predicting reactions and stop managing the emotional load for everyone else. You can become visible again. Not demanding, not dramatic, visible and visibility is what turns love from quiet submission into mutuality.
So let's talk about a little coaching moment here where Tolerations can keep pulling your chain and how to become aware of them. Before we [00:32:00] talk about really big conversations or even meaningful change, I wanna bring this down to the level where most tension actually lives. And it's not in betrayal, ultimatums, it might be in the small daily things you tell yourself, don't matter.
The toothpaste cap being left off, sugar spilled on the counter and not wiped up. Mugs set right next to the sink instead of in it. The same cough at work by a, an employee that, so towels just keeps getting louder and longer and you don't say anything about it. It's just annoying you. None of these are crises, and that's why they're dangerous because you dismiss them.
You clean it up, you adjust, you tell yourself it's not worth it. But tolerations don't disappear. Over time, they stack and each one pulls your chain just a little bit more. Might tighten your jaw, shorten your patience. It might harden your tone without even you realizing why. And at home it might look like [00:33:00] always being the one who notices, always being the one who resets the pace, always being the one who absorbs the irritation to keep the house calm.
And at work it might show up as letting small inefficiencies slide not addressing the behavior in the room that's draining the entire team. Or silently resenting the person who never quite pulls their weight and never gets called in on it. In leadership, tolerations are deadly. When you ignore small misalignments, the late arrivals, the passive comments, the lack of follow through, you don't avoid conflict.
You're teaching an entire system what's acceptable and in parenting, whew. Tolerations come from exhaustion. You might let things go because you're tired, 'cause it feels easier, or because today's just already asked too much out of you. But over time that lack of clarity is gonna create confusion, not [00:34:00] safety.
And here's the important reframe. Tolerations are not kindness. They're deferred clarity and deferred clarity costs much later. And the body, your body knows this, that irritation you feel isn't about being petty. It's your nervous system saying something small keeps crossing the boundary and I haven't named it yet.
You don't need to be rigid. You don't need to correct everything, and you don't even need to turn the household, you know, into an enforced crazy workplace or from micromanaging. You don't have to do that. You just need to notice which tolerations are draining you and ask yourself gently, if this continues for another year, what's it gonna cost me?
That question isn't meant to scare you. It's meant to wake you up with compassion, honestly, because clarity doesn't start with confrontation. I'm not saying you need to confront anybody. It starts with [00:35:00] self-respect. And when you respect yourself enough to notice what's wearing you down, change becomes possible.
Without explosion, without blame, and without burnout, clarity can create more life, not less. Here's what I wanna leave with you. Clarity doesn't drain your relationships. It gives you oxygen. And when small things are named, energy frees up. When preferences are spoken, tension softens, and when roles are conscious, love has room to move again.
Clarity isn't about fixing people, it's about letting life flow more easily between the two of you. Think about how everyday moments feel when they're shared with awareness. Coffee in the morning doesn't quite carry resentment. It can carry presence. A shared space will feel lighter, not perfect, but honest and different.
[00:36:00] Rhythms can coexist without interpretation or offense. You might start to experience something subtle and powerful relief. Yeah, relief, not because everything changed, but because you're no longer disappearing inside the relationship. And here's the beautiful part that people don't expect. When you stop managing everyone else's expectations, you become more available for joy.
You might laugh more easily. Listen, without edginess, offer care, without feeling depleted. Clarity actually makes people feel safer and not threatened because expectations are no longer hidden. You're not hiding anymore In leadership, clarity creates trust in parenting, it creates security and in partnerships, clarity creates intimacy that doesn't require self erasure or self sacrifice and in yourself.
[00:37:00] Clarity, resource, something so essential. Choice. Choice. You get to choose when to adapt. Choose when to lead. Choose when to yield. Choose when to speak. Nothing is forced, nothing is assumed. Nothing is silently carried forever. This isn't about becoming rigid. It's about just becoming real. And you, because you're speaking your voice with respect, you're not sacrificing yourself with silence.
Because the most sustainable relationships at home, at work, and within yourself aren't built on sacrifice. They're built on presence. And presence is what allows a love to evolve instead of eroding. As we wrap up this conversation, here's what I want you to notice. When relational BS starts to dissolve, when you stop silently managing, adapting, or absorbing.
A deeper question will [00:38:00] naturally surface. Who am I when I'm not holding everything together? Because so much of what we love and what we tolerate in our relationships isn't just about other people. It's about who we believe we're supposed to be. If you believe you are supposed to be the easy one, the flexible one, the strong one, the one who doesn't need much, I want you to ask yourself.
Who am I when I'm not holding everything together? Next week we're stepping into identity bs, the quiet roles you might have inherited, adopted, or outgrown, and how they shape what you accept, what you suppress, and how visible you allow yourself to be. Relational. Clarity opens the door identity, clarity decides what you walk through.
As relational BS starts to dissolve, and as you stop [00:39:00] silently, managing, adapting, and absorbing, a deeper question will naturally surface. Again. Who are you when you're no longer holding everything together? When roles are conscious, relationships breathe. When your needs are expressed, resentment, loosens, and when you stop disappearing, connections deepen.
You don't need to overhaul your relationships. You don't even need to confront everything at once. Awareness is enough to begin. Choice will follow the awareness and presence. We'll change everything. Until next time, may you be happy, be healthy and be fulfilled.
Outro: Thank you for listening to Mindset Medicine with your host, Dr. Julia Bowlin. To learn more about mindset medicine, go to www.juliabowlinmd.com and connect with Dr. Julia to find out how our team can help [00:40:00] you today. Join us again next week for more expert tips, tools, and strategies to become healthier, wealthier, and wiser in your personal and professional life.
