“And not only this, but with joy let us exult in our sufferings and rejoice in our hardships, knowing that hardship produces patient endurance; and endurance, proven character (spiritual maturity); and proven character, hope and confident assurance.” — Romans 5:3–4 (AMP)
The Photo I Can’t Stop Looking At
I’ve been sitting with a photo for a few years now, since I was around 52. I have it taped to my bathroom mirror.
It’s a picture of me at five years old—a little girl in a polyester green dress with two braids. I’m trying to force a smile from a serious expression that, if I’m honest, looks like she’s already carrying something — something too heavy for a five-year-old to carry or understand. I was told to smile for the picture, and I wanted to, but I didn’t have anything to smile about.
I don’t know exactly what she knew at that time. But, now at 55, almost 56, I’m finally old enough, wise enough, and almost free enough to really look at her.
And here’s what I see: a little girl whose story God had already been writing since before she took her first breath (Psalm 39: 13-16, AMP). He knew her. He saw what was coming. And He never once looked away.
This season of menopause has done something I didn’t expect. It hasn’t just changed my body. It has reached all the way back into my past and resurfaced things I thought were long settled — memories I believed I’d processed, wounds I was sure had healed, patterns I never even thought to name.
And somewhere in all of that, I found that five-year-old girl.
And I realized she’s been waiting for me to come back for her.
What She Didn’t Know
That little girl didn’t know that some of what she was learning about herself wasn’t the truth. She was learning — the way all children do — what earned approval, what kept the peace, and what made people pleased with her.
But there’s something else I see when I look at her that I couldn’t name then.
I see anxiety. I see a child who was always watching, always reading the room, always trying to figure out how to make things okay — because sometimes things at home were very not okay.
I won’t go into all of it. But I will say this: when the environment you grow up in feels unpredictable, you learn to manage it the only way a child knows how. You become agreeable. You become helpful. You shrink. You become whatever keeps the peace.
And then you grow up. And you call it your personality.
Be good. Stay quiet. Be helpful. Don’t ask for too much. Make it work.
She didn’t know those early lessons would follow her into adulthood, quietly shaping the way she presented herself in relationships, in rooms, and in her own life. She didn’t know that decades later, a woman sitting at a desk in her 50s would look back and finally be able to name what she was carrying.
Conditioning.
It’s one of those words that sounds clinical but hits personal. Because conditioning isn’t something that happens to you in a dramatic, obvious way. It’s subtle. It’s the slow accumulation of messages received and lessons learned about who you are, what you’re worth, and what you owe other people.
The People-Pleasing Problem
Let me keep it totally 💯 with you for a minute.
People-pleasing is a major thing that has come up for me in this season — big time. And not in a “oh, isn’t that cute” kind of way. In a “Wait. How long have I been doing this?” kind of way.
I’m no longer willing to people-please if it dishonors my own wants and needs. I’ve said it out loud. I’ve meant it. But then — right behind that conviction — comes the whisper:
“But does that make me selfish? Does that make me lazy?”
That struggle is real. And I want to name it here because I know I’m not the only one.
When a woman spends decades being praised for being the dependable one, the helper, the one who doesn’t complain, the one who puts others’ wants and needs before her own — that becomes her identity. So when she finally starts to say, “I can’t do that,” or “This doesn’t work for me,” or even something as simple as “I need rest,” it can feel like failure. Like selfishness. Like something is terribly wrong with her.
Let me give you an example of what people-pleasing actually looks like in real life. It’s not always dramatic.
Over 25 years ago, I was getting my first new car. My Dad took my sister and me to the same dealership — separately — and neither of us had any idea what kind of car the other wanted. I had my heart set on a silver Honda Civic. I’d already had to let go of the sunroof because I couldn’t afford it. Then, the day I went to the dealership with my Dad, I found out my sister had just gotten the same car — same make, same model, same color.
My Dad, well-meaning as he was, suggested I get a different color since my sister already had the silver one.
I didn’t want a different color. I wanted the silver one.
But I conceded. I just got the green one. It was my son’s favorite color anyway. And when he saw it, he was so excited — and that was genuinely nice. But if I’m honest? It was resignation dressed up as acceptance.
I didn’t choose green. I just never fought for silver.
I drove that green car for years, chauffeuring my son, still quietly grieving the silver one. That green car ended up serving us well, though. Years later, my son learned how to drive in it, and it became his first car.
That’s people-pleasing. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a woman who wanted a silver car and drove home in a green one — and found a way to make the sacrifice feel like a gift so it hurt a little less.
And honestly? Looking back now, what would have been the big deal if we both had the same car? Two sisters with the same taste. That’s it.
But I didn’t even let myself ask that question at that time. I just adjusted. I made room. I kept the peace.
And that pattern? It didn’t start at the car dealership. It started much, much earlier.
But that’s not the truth. That’s the conditioning talking.
Honoring your needs is not selfishness. Setting boundaries is not laziness. It’s maturity.
Loving people sometimes means going out of our way for them — esteeming them better than ourselves (Philippians 2:3). But when it comes from freedom, choice, and wisdom, it doesn’t dishonor you. That’s love. People-pleasing, on the other hand, happens when fear or conditioning drives you to disappear.
And for women like us — women who have carried the world on our backs while quietly disappearing in the process — it might just be the most faithful thing we can do.
The Science That Made It Make Sense
And then I realized something amazing — science itself shows how God designed this shift to happen.
In her book Age Like a Girl and her other teachings, hormone expert Dr. Mindy Pelz explains that estrogen has been “bathing your brain” for decades, stimulating what she calls a “girl gang” of about 12 neurochemicals that support bonding, attunement to others, and taking care of everyone around you. In other words, the very hormone that powered your body for decades was also quietly fueling your need to please.
She describes menopause as a massive neurochemical reboot. As estrogen levels decline, certain neurons are pruned, and the female brain undergoes a process of rewiring. She says that when estrogen arrived at puberty, many of us started changing our behavior to please others — and that when estrogen leaves, “we no longer care about pleasing you” in the same way.
She’s also quick to note that nobody’s fully studying this yet. But it resonates deeply with what so many women are experiencing — including me.
Menopause isn’t just taking something away. It’s giving something back. It’s moving us away from outsourcing our worth to others and toward inner authority.
If this resonates with you, I encourage you to explore Dr. Mindy Pelz’s book, “Age Like a Girl,” and her Resetter podcast. She shares some very intriguing information. They are worth your time.
Now, I need to be transparent here — for me, the people-pleasing started long before puberty. The roots were already there in that little girl, planted in soil she didn’t choose. The estrogen may have amplified it, but it didn’t create it, which makes this season even more significant. For the first time in my entire life, something is finally working to undo it.
I didn’t choose the soil. But God chose me — and He’s been tending that garden ever since. 💜
Think about that for a moment. In this one season, three things are happening simultaneously:
God is answering my prayer for freedom — spiritually revealing the internal bondage I never knew I was in.
My mind is finally doing the excavating — unpacking childhood wounds, conditioning, and patterns built for survival that no longer serve.
And my brain is literally being rewired — neurologically releasing the very chemicals that drove the people-pleasing for decades.
That is not a coincidence. That is divine design.
God. Mind. Body. All three are moving in the same direction at the same time — toward freedom.
The Prayer That Changed Everything
Three years ago, I prayed a simple, honest prayer:
“Lord, I want freedom in my life. Please show me how to be free. Please show me all the areas in my life where I am in bondage.”
I had no idea what He would show me. I wasn’t afraid of what He would show me. I just knew He had the answers — and I hoped I was ready to receive them.
And He has been showing me — in places and with things I never even considered.
But the part that stopped me in my tracks?
The origin was within me.
Not the circumstances. Not the people. Not the systems.
The deepest chains were internal — old beliefs absorbed quietly, agreements I made with lies I was told or told myself, patterns I built for survival that had long since outlived their purpose.
Things like:
- “My needs don’t matter.”
- “Good women sacrifice everything.”
- “If I say no, people won’t love me.”
- “Rest is laziness.”
Those beliefs felt so normal I never questioned them. But God, in His faithfulness, is peeling back the layers — not to shame me, but to free me.
The Progression That Makes Sense Now
I read Romans 5:3–4 in my devotional recently, and it stayed with me:
Struggle → Endurance → Character → Hope.
When I look at that little girl in the photo, I can trace that progression across her whole life. She endured things she didn’t have language for. She developed character in the fire of circumstances she didn’t choose. And now, at 55, she’s arriving at something that feels very much like hope.
It’s not a hope that everything will be perfect. It’s a hope rooted in the knowledge that God was working even then — in the silence, in the confusion, in the years I was swimming against the current and didn’t even know it.
Menopause didn’t break me open. It gave me eyes to finally see what was already there.
What I Want to Say to Her
If I could sit across from that five-year-old girl today, I’d hold her hands and look deep into her eyes so she’d feel safe and reassured — and here’s what I’d tell her:
You are going to carry a lot. Some of it will be yours to carry, and some of it won’t. There will be times you won’t know the difference. But God does. And He’s not going to waste a single thing.
The conditioning will be real. The people-pleasing will feel like love for a long time. And there will be years when you won’t even recognize the weight you’re carrying — because you’ve never known anything different.
But here’s what I know now that you don’t know yet:
“The endurance produces character. The character produces hope. And the hope? That’s what we’re walking in right now (Romans 5:3–4 AMP).”
It took 55 years. But we made it.
To every woman reading this who has her own version of that little girl in the photo — the one who learned too early to shrink, to serve, to survive — I see you. And I want you to know it is never too late to go back and get her.
Ask God to show you where you’re in bondage. You may not even realize what He’ll uncover. But it’s one of the most liberating prayers you’ll ever pray.
Reflection & Journal Prompts
Take some time to sit with these questions — just you and God. There are no right or wrong answers, only honesty.
Reflect
- Is there a version of your younger self you’ve been avoiding looking at? What do you think she needs you to see?
- Think of a time you set aside what you truly wanted to keep the peace or avoid making things awkward. What did that cost you?
Talk to God
3. Have you ever asked God to show you where you’re in bondage? If not, what’s holding you back from asking?
Recognize the Pattern
4. What beliefs about yourself have felt so normal you never thought to question them?
5. Where in your life have you been driving a green car — when you really wanted silver?
Take a few quiet moments with these prompts. Let God guide your reflections and gently reveal what you may have been carrying for years.
If these questions are stirring something within you and you’d like to explore them further, I’d be happy to help. With God, there is nothing we cannot face, uncover, or heal together.
Reach out. I’d love to hear from you.
Life is a faith journey. Walk boldly — even when what you discover about yourself surprises you.
Be brave enough to look at her. 💜 Be faithful enough to trust what God reveals. 💜 Be kind enough to extend grace to the little girl you once were. 💜
— Tami Zanele
Next week on Zanele’s Faith Journeys — Blog #50: “Menopause: The Friend Who Gave Me Back to Myself.”
