Asking for my needs to be met is probably one of my biggest struggles. I don’t want to be a bother. A symptom of what I call “Third Child Syndrome” is the constant battle between wanting to be wanted and the fear, more like the experience-conditioned belief, that our presence will never be valued. Growing up with two older siblings, the now entrenched tapes of rejection played repeatedly: You’re stupid! Shut up! Go away! I don’t remember ever hearing encouraging words spoken over me. All I heard were messages of how much I sucked at everything. Most were true, and those I have learned to dismiss and accept about myself. I am lazy. I do fail at team sports, like epically. And, I do have terrible spelling skills, which is a bit of a handicap for a writer, but thank God for Spellcheck and Dictionary.com. However, the constant jabs, ridicule, and flat-out denial of my wants and needs as a child anesthetized me. It’s difficult for me to recognize what my needs even are, let alone ask for them to be met. So, once I do notice something amiss, it’s my job to tease out what it is that I might need at that particular moment. No one else it going to do it for me. I have to question myself about what I need, take a few deep breaths, and trust that any true lack will come to mind. Then, the hard part: asking.