Welcome to Beyond Stability, where psychiatrist, social scientist and humanitarian adviser Dr. Suzan Song shares reflections about how we think, decide, and partner during uncertain times to find a sense of groundedness and joy.
Before picking up the kids from school last week, I squeezed in a trip to the grocery store and stood in the self-checkout line behind two women I’ll never see again. There was a woman in front of me. And in front of her was a mother with her toddler pushing a stroller, slowly.
The woman behind her politely asked if she could step around them.
The mom didn’t rush. Calmly, she locked eyes, smiled, and said, “He’s a toddler. You’ll get there in ten seconds. You can wait, it’s okay.” Then turned back to her child.
The brief moment was uncomfortable. The mom violated a norm that most of us follow in shared spaces: don’t hold other people up if you can help it.
My first reaction was irritation. But my second was more honest: I would have apologized and moved faster, and likely would have moved aside before anyone asked me to. I’ve been thinking about that gap ever since.
The tax you might not know you’re paying
There’s a version of consideration that comes from genuine care. I see you and respect you, so I’ll make space for you. It’s considerate and generous—exactly what overcrowded, distracted, self-absorbed public life needs more of.
But there’s also a version that looks the same from the outside but operates differently from the inside: a quiet belief that your presence is inherently an imposition, that you have to justify the space you take up. One is chosen and the other is a reflex you inherited so early you may not notice it.
Many of us learn a specific set of behaviors early: read the room quickly, anticipate needs, don’t take up more space than necessary, make your presence easy for others, don’t get in the way. These are real competencies. People like and trust you because of them.
But over time, those behaviors can shift, from being about consideration to being about managing how you’re perceived.
You might notice it in small ways: over-explaining a point you’ve already made carefully, softening a boundary because managing someone’s reaction feels like your job, staying hypervigilant about whether you’ve inconvenienced someone, or routinely prefacing a completely reasonable request with sorry to bother you. That’s a hefty tax to pay.
Over time, it shapes how you feel, what you say, whether you hold back, and how clearly you move things forward.
Psychologist Jennifer Crocker spent years documenting what she called the costly pursuit of self-esteem—what happens when people stake their worth on approval. Her finds were counterintuitive: those who needed external validation performed about the same as those who didn’t.
But they paid a price. Namely, significantly more cognitive and emotional energy managing perception, pre-empting judgment, and recovering from criticism. They were more depleted from constantly calibrating how they were being received.
When it starts to work against you
At a certain point, this tax becomes the primary obstacle. Not competence or judgment—you’ve got that. The issue is the shrinking that may have protected you once, but is now automatic. And over time, resentment and anger follow.
Because the moment you make yourself smaller in situations where it isn’t necessary, you begin to notice when others don’t. And that can feel jarring, even irritating.
The mom in the checkout lane may have been inconsiderate. But she may have also been someone who stopped apologizing for taking up space. Clearly, she’s comfortable letting others absorb small inconveniences.
That doesn’t make her right. Shared spaces still depend on some level of mutual consideration. But there’s a fine line between consideration and self-erasure. Consideration is a responsive, situational choice that’s grounded in being aware of others. That’s not the same as self-erasure, reflexively apologizing or accommodating unnecessarily.
I’m not advocating for people to be less thoughtful. The instinct to be aware of your impact on others is a real strength. But awareness doesn’t require you to disappear.
A place to start is to notice the next moment you’re about to make yourself smaller, if you reflexively apologize, soften, or step aside. Then pause. Ask whether it’s actually needed. Consideration is a virtue, but it isn’t meant to erase you.
Notes & Invitations
Why We Suffer and How We Heal (Penguin, 2026) explores how to find grounding and ease during instability, drawing on science, clinical experience and real-world cases.
San Francisco, CA — Author talk
📅 April 19 @ 4pm | 📍 Manny’s SF (tickets required)
Free Guide on developing your own Three Friends of Winter Circles here
You can find occasional longer reflections, media, and event information at www.suzansong.com
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