The Invisible Black Woman

Break two was over, and it was time to dive into DBT: dialectical behavioral training. As I sat there, listening to the discussion about social support, it struck me how much I related to what was being said. The conversation had shifted to the importance of boundaries, particularly at work. I’ve never been great at setting boundaries, especially in professional settings where I’ve always felt like I needed to go above and beyond to prove myself. Whether it was staying late to help on projects or taking on extra tasks to avoid conflict, I constantly found myself putting my needs second.

Carrie, who was leading the last session, posed a question to the group that hit entirely too close to home: “Do you feel like you have enough support in your life—whether at work or outside of it?”

It felt like such a simple question, but it unraveled a lot for me. My immediate instinct was to say “yes,” because on the surface, it seemed like I had a great support system in hubby, so home was straight. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how nonexistent those supports were in my work life.

One of the other group members threw her two cents into the conversation.

“I do, but it’s very recent. It kind of scares me, though, because I’m waiting for something to go wrong. I feel so supported by the people around me that I’m like, ‘Okay, I don’t want to get too comfortable.’ But I know that’s my condition talking, so I’m trying hard to fight it.”

Carrie nodded, her expression understanding. “Your condition, or maybe some experiences you’ve had where supports haven’t always been reliable?”

She always had a way of turning things around in a positive light. That was definitely a skill.

“Yes. Especially with my family. I was really young when I learned not to trust anybody. So now that I have people in my life who are trustworthy, I just get scared. What if something happens? I’m not used to feeling secure.”

I related to that feeling all too well—especially in the workplace, where every ounce of “support” always felt temporary, conditional, and contingent on me proving myself over and over again. I often questioned whether I truly had support or if it was just a matter of convenience for others. Was it authentic, or was I just useful in the moment?

Carrie broke through my internal thoughts.

“So these newly established supports, are you feeling like they’re real? What would it take for them to feel solid and trustworthy, especially at work?”

Someone else spoke up with a different perspective.

“It’s the opposite for me. I had a situation recently where I felt like I was starting to trust people again, and then I got hurt. It ended up being a toxic situation, and the cycle just repeated itself. So now I’m hesitant to open up to new possibilities.”

That T word rumbled and echoed in my head. Toxic, as in toxic-AF work environments—been there, done that, still there. I knew how much harm they could do to your sense of security, leaving you wondering if you could ever trust a workplace to truly support you. Those repeated negative experiences just kept piling up, making it hard to believe that a supportive workplace even existed.

Carrie tied it all together in a perfect summary.

“So we’ve got some new social supports—whether at work or in life—but those past experiences keep telling you that trusting people leads to disappointment. The question is: how do we break that cycle?”

I found myself nodding unconsciously. That was exactly it—the cycle. You get hurt at work, you start questioning yourself, and suddenly, setting boundaries seems impossible. You’re stuck in this loop where the more you try to protect yourself, the more you feel like you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Carrie brought the conversation back to the broader group. “Do we feel like we have the support we need in our lives? And if not, what are some of the challenges we face?”

Another group member chimed, “I don’t, but I do have some good people. They might not be good for everything, but I know they care about me, even if it’s not always in the ways I need.”

“That’s an important point,” said Carrie. “Sometimes people can support us in certain areas but not in others, and that’s okay. It’s about recognizing who can help you and in what ways.”

As the conversation continued, it became clearer to me how much my professional life lacked the support I needed. Sure, I had colleagues who would help on projects, but real support—the kind that understood the importance of boundaries and well-being—was rare. I’d been so busy trying to be everything for everyone else that I’d forgotten to ask for what I needed. And if I was being all the way a buck, I wasn’t sure I’d get what I needed even if I had the gumption to ask for it.

The question I kept circling back to was this: if social support is so beneficial, why don’t we have enough of it at work? Why do we hesitate to set boundaries, ask for help, or even recognize when support is inadequate?

And, as if on cue, someone added another layer to the questions rumbling around in my head looking for answers they’d likely never find in there.

“We can’t always control the people who are around us or the roles they play in our lives. And sometimes, it’s not as simple as just disengaging. Even if they’re not really social support, they’re still part of that immediate social circle.”

That’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? At work, you’re surrounded by people who may not be able to support you in the ways you need, but you’re forced to interact with them day in and day out. You can’t always just cut them out, especially when they’re colleagues or even supervisors. Would that it were just that simple and disengaging. On the far extreme and in many cases, you’re surrounded by people who do not support you not because they cannot but because they choose not to. But, we gon get into that another time, mmkay?

Carrie asked us to think about the different kinds of social support: emotional, tangible, informational, and social needs. At work, most of my interactions were transactional. I might get informational support, but emotional or tangible? Not so much (i.e., NOT AT ALL). And social support—feeling like I belonged—was a pipe dream.

I’d been told enough times, subtly and not so subtly, that who I was at work was entirely too much. I took up way too much space. It’s amazing how vivid the words someone says to you about you stick around in your mental Rolodex. I certainly have never forgotten being told I didn’t always need to have the answers all the time. I should let someone else speak, even if they were wrong. That one was courtesy of my supervisor. In other words, stop speaking up. Can you imagine being told by your supposed boss they’d rather hear a wrong answer than a right one coming out of your mouth? I took her guidance to heart and quite literally stopped saying much of anything during meetings unless I was called on. And even when I was, I kept it vague and generic.

Whew.

I didn’t expect group to unlock as much as it did. Maybe because my heart was already open from songwriting more stuff seeped in. This felt like the therapy equivalent of Care Bears when they’re shooting you with their rainbows. Instead, I was getting straight up therapized against all my protestations.

As I reflected on the discussion and my own experience, I realized that if I had any hope of going back to the hellhole I currently called work, I would have to set boundaries. I would have to stop overextending myself for the sake of being seen as “a team player” or “reliable” and start advocating for my needs. The first step? Acknowledging that my professional well-being mattered as much as the work I was doing.

But as you can well already imagine, this was much, much easier said than done.