I'm Needy and I Own It—Maybe You Should Too.

What if the secret to good relationships is needing more?

The Years of Shrinking Myself

For most of my teens, 20s, and early 30s, I spent the majority of my time trying to need less. To make sure my needs were convenient, digestible, and easy to accommodate. To make sure I wasn’t asking “too much”.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you had a version of yourself that was also:

• Totally fine with the fact that they forgot your 16th birthday (It happens! No big deal!)

• Totally cool with adjusting your schedule and your expectations to fit into theirs—because being easygoing made you more likable (Low-maintenance, right?)

• Totally understanding when they pulled away, when they became distant, when you learned to tiptoe around their moods (They just need space!)

What Changes at 39

But I think something happens at 39. Or at least, something is happening to me. Maybe it started before, when my happily-ever-after fairy tale of a marriage fell apart and I started to question everything.

Regardless of the when, the reality of the now is that I’m finding a lot of comfort in leaning into the things I used to be so afraid of. One of those is the fear of being too "needy."

Photo by Marco Xu on Unsplash

The "Needy" Clients I See as a Therapist

Personally, post-divorce me is starting to wonder: how have we all—especially women—been conditioned to question the need for our needs? To belittle our need for connection, intimacy, and interdependence? To think that having needs at all is a problem to be solved?

Professionally, in my therapist chair, I have a front-row seat to the “needy” show. Even though I’m a couples therapist, I work with a lot of individuals who are frequently questioning if they’re asking for too much.

• Am I being too "needy" because I want them to put their phone down and actually listen when I’m talking?

• I feel so "needy" wanting them to make actual plans instead of last-minute hangouts.

• I hate feeling "needy" for wanting to feel desired again, like we actually see each other, not just as roommates.

I smile. Because I can relate and because I have to pause instead of blurting out what I’m really thinking.

AHH! Since when did basic relational needs and emotional reciprocity become "too much"?

So I turn to questions instead.

Huh, I wonder where you learned that having unmet needs made you “needy”?

And off we go, deconstructing the origin stories. The upbringing, the experiences, the social context. Because in a culture that glorifies detachment, that treats aloofness as a virtue, and devalues our silly little feelings, of course anything that runs counter to that is labeled “needy.”

Neediness as a Radical Act

But what if neediness isn’t a flaw? What if it’s actually revolutionary? For centuries, emotional expression—especially in women—has been dismissed as hysteria, excess, something to be managed and controlled. And while men are often discouraged from expressing their needs at all—taught to toughen up, to 'man up'—women are shamed for expressing them too much.

Different expectations, same result: a culture that devalues emotional openness and dialogue. We’ve been taught that independence is the highest virtue, that needing less from others makes us more desirable, more worthy. But what if the real power lies in refusing to shrink? In recognizing that to need is to be human and to connect is to be alive?

What if the most radical thing you can do in a world that tells you to ask for less, to quiet down, to smile and be grateful—is to own your “needy” and say, "I have needs. Read ‘em and weep."

Of course, as a couples therapist, I’m no stranger to the very real and debilitating struggles faced by those who have an overly anxious attachment style, relationship obsessive-compulsive disorder (ROCD), or dependent personality disorder (DPD). Conditions that trigger a deep and intense fear of abandonment and make it difficult to regulate emotions. And yes, I also know that the definition of the word “needy” is in reference to needing frequent reassurance and attention (also—who gets to decide what is 'too much'?).

But I’m not speaking to that at the moment. I’m speaking to myself and the countless other clients I’ve worked with throughout the years who have internalized the lies and gaslit themselves into thinking they were “needy” for simply having needs that their partners did not have the capacity or even desire to meet.

Because we’re done calling ourselves that and we’re done making sure our needs are convenient.

Owning My Needs, Owning Myself

Post-divorce me is needy, and I love it. I love her.

She says what she wants without apologizing (unless it’s actually warranted—she’s learned the difference). She asks for effort. She asks for thoughtfulness. She needs hard and uncomfortable conversations. She needs intentionality. She needs words of affirmation. She needs conflict that leads to connection. She needs solitude and space.

She needs someone who thinks sea otters are the f*ing cutest things in the world and will send the appropriate otter appreciation memes.

But I’ve also learned that these needs cannot be demanded—they’re conversations or invitations to conversation. I know I cannot shove my needs down someone’s throat and expect them to meet them—just because I deserve it or feel entitled to it. But I am bringing them to the table.

I am discussing them in a way where I don’t question or minimize them. They might be unrealistic at times, sure, but let’s talk about them anyways, I’m game. And I know I’m not the only one with needs, that relationships are reciprocal and I also have to be willing to listen.

It Takes a Village, Not Just One Person

These days I know it takes a village to feel a deep sense of belonging and fulfillment. Expecting one single person to be your best friend, confidante, knight in shining armor, workout buddy, partner in crime, support system, sexy mate, and all the other things is a recipe for disappointment and disaster.

So this version of me has leaned into friendships that remind me I am loved in so many ways, into a community that holds space for me, into nature that teaches me stillness, into hobbies that let me create just for funsies, into work that fulfills me, and even into myself—because I am also part of the village and responsible for meeting my own needs.

I’ve also worked through some of the roots of the fear, the avoidance defense mechanism—the discomfort of speaking up, of being fully seen. Maybe even the urge to control how others perceive me.

But I don’t have control over that. I don’t have control over how others choose to see me. What I do have control over is speaking up for myself, self-validating, and honoring that my needs are not the problem.

The real problem is the lies around being "needy"—the conditioned response to ask for and need less. To be bite-sized, to be desirable, to be easy and uncomplicated. That’s the trap.

A Call for More Neediness

I don't know about you, but I think we all need a little more “neediness” in our world. Things are a bit of a dumpster fire at the moment. I wonder what would change if we needed each other more?

If we leaned into the”'needy” and sought out more connection, more vulnerability, more honesty, more interdependence—not just from our partners but from all of our relationships. What if we let ourselves be “needy”?

What if we made space for others to need us, too? What if we stopped treating emotional openness like a liability and started seeing it as the foundation of our human-ness?

I’m done pretending that needing less makes me more. I’m done pretending I don’t care. I need, I want, I long for depth, for connection, for reciprocity. And I’m not ashamed of that.

Maybe you shouldn’t be either.