Dear Tessa,
I don’t know how to ask for more without feeling like I’m doing something wrong. Even thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve gotten so used to accepting what’s offered, adjusting my expectations, and telling myself that wanting more might be selfish or unrealistic. Asking feels risky, like I’m putting myself in a position to be rejected or seen as ungrateful.
Part of me worries that asking for more will change how I’m perceived. That it will make me seem demanding, needy, or hard to please. I’ve spent so long being the understanding one, the flexible one, the one who doesn’t ask for much. Letting go of that role feels unfamiliar, and honestly, a little scary.
I don’t even know where to start. What does asking for more actually look like? Is it asking for clarity, consistency, effort, reassurance? Is it naming what I need directly, or is it setting boundaries around what I’ll no longer accept? I’ve gotten so practiced at adapting that I’m not always sure how to advocate for myself without immediately second-guessing it.
Sometimes I tell myself that if someone really cared, I wouldn’t have to ask. Other times, I wonder if I’ve trained people to give me less by never speaking up in the first place. That thought makes me feel guilty, like this is somehow my fault. But staying silent hasn’t made things better. It’s just made me feel invisible.
I don’t want to ask for more in a way that feels like an ultimatum or a demand. I don’t want to pressure anyone into showing up. I just want to feel like my needs matter enough to be voiced without fear. I want to believe that asking for more doesn’t automatically mean losing what I already have.
So how do you ask for more without apologizing for it? How do you speak up without shrinking afterward? And how do you handle it if the answer to your ask isn’t what you hoped it would be?
Signed:
A woman learning to use her voice
Tessa’s Thoughts on the Subject
Asking for more feels hard because, for a long time, you learned that wanting less kept you safer. You learned that being easygoing preserved connection, and that minimizing your needs reduced conflict. Over time, those lessons became habits, and now asking feels like a disruption instead of a natural part of healthy connection.
The truth is, asking for more doesn’t make you demanding. It makes you honest. Needs don’t become unreasonable just because they’ve gone unspoken. And silence doesn’t protect relationships. It only protects the status quo. If you never name what you need, people can’t choose whether or not to meet you there.
It’s also important to understand that asking for more is not the same as forcing someone to give it. You’re not responsible for controlling the outcome. Your responsibility is clarity. Asking simply gives information. It shows where you are and what matters to you. How someone responds tells you a lot about their capacity and willingness, not about your worth.
Many women hesitate to ask because they fear losing what they already have. But if what you have can only exist as long as you stay quiet, it’s already costing you something. Healthy connections can withstand honest requests. They may require conversation, adjustment, or compromise, but they don’t require self-silencing.
You don’t need to have the perfect words. You don’t need to package your needs delicately enough to be accepted. Start small. Name one thing you want more of. Pay attention to how it feels to say it out loud, and how it feels to receive the response. That information matters more than saying it perfectly.
Tessa’s Straight-Up Perspective
Here’s the truth. Asking for more isn’t a demand. It’s a declaration of self-respect. You don’t lose value by expressing your needs, and you don’t keep peace by ignoring them. If asking for more feels like a risk, it’s because it reveals whether something can grow with you. And that clarity, even when it’s uncomfortable, is better than staying silent and shrinking.
Disclaimer:
Dear Tessa is written woman-to-woman — honest, imperfect, and human. It’s meant to offer comfort, clarity, and perspective, not professional guidance. You know your life best.