I’ve always believed that a single question can carry incredible weight.

Sometimes, a friend asks you something offhand and it feels like they’ve cracked open a hidden door in your mind.

But there’s one phrase I heard from trauma expert Gabor Maté that genuinely shook me: “When did you decide that your needs weren’t important?”

The first time I heard it, I felt equal parts defensive and strangely relieved — like, Finally, someone sees what’s really going on under the surface.

That question reveals what many of us overlook:

We often carry childhood wounds that quietly script our behavior in adulthood. We might not have survived a “huge, life-shattering” trauma, but smaller events, like being told to toughen up or not to cry, can still leave deep marks.

According to Maté, you don’t need to have faced overt abuse to be affected. It’s enough to have felt dismissed, criticized, or pressured to hide your authentic self.

When he asks someone, “When did you decide your needs weren’t important?” it cuts right to the heart of the issue.

Why this question works

Maté has spent years studying how emotional trauma from childhood shapes adult behavior.

He’s seen that people adapt to early wounds by disconnecting from their own needs.

Why?

Because it’s safer to ignore those needs than risk rejection, anger, or ridicule.

If your parents — intentionally or not — made you feel guilty for voicing your feelings, you probably learned to stuff them down.

But ignoring what you need doesn’t just vanish in adulthood. It morphs into chronic people-pleasing, anxiety in relationships, or a fear of confrontation at work.

So Maté targets that moment when you decided, consciously or unconsciously, to put yourself last. That decision, he argues, is often the crux of unresolved childhood trauma.

How one question shook my self-image

The first time I heard Maté use this question was in a short video clip.

I’d clicked on it out of pure curiosity, thinking, Yeah, I know all about childhood issues. I’m good. But when he turned to his interview subject and asked, “When did you decide that your needs weren’t important?”

I felt like he was talking directly to me.

All at once, memories surfaced:

• My dad telling me to “man up” when I skinned my knee as a kid.
• A teacher dismissing my complaints about bullies, implying I was too sensitive.

The subtle messages were always: Don’t make a fuss. Don’t be a burden. Keep it together.

I never realized just how deeply those messages had shaped me.

The silent pacts we make as kids

Growing up, I learned that being “good” meant I shouldn’t need extra attention. I interpreted that as:

My needs are a nuisance.

So I pretended I didn’t have any.

Hurt feelings? Eh, not worth talking about.
Frustration over an unfair grade? Just let it go.

Even as a teenager, if I was upset, I’d throw out a casual, “It’s fine, no worries,” to avoid seeming dramatic.

Looking back, I see how that mentality eroded my self-esteem. On the surface, I was easygoing, low-maintenance, and “independent.”

Deep down, I felt lonely and misunderstood.

I craved support and validation but couldn’t admit it. Because somewhere along the line, I’d decided my needs weren’t worthy of attention — and that belief followed me into adulthood.

The invisible chain reaction

Maté’s work highlights how unresolved childhood wounds can trigger all sorts of symptoms: anxiety, addictions, or even physical illnesses.

You might think, That’s a stretch. How can a few childhood remarks lead to major adult problems?

But the logic is surprisingly clear.

When you continually swallow your emotions to avoid conflict, you create stress in your body.

As time goes by, chronic stress affects your immune system, your mood, and your relationships.

If your parents (or any authority figure) suggested your emotions were too big or too trivial, you learned to shut them down.

That shutting down is a form of self-betrayal.

Eventually, the body and mind protest, often in ways that look like panic attacks, unexplained fatigue, or a nagging sense that something’s missing in your life.

My lightbulb moment

I used to shrug off my own discomfort.

If a coworker burdened me with extra tasks, I’d stay late, refusing to admit I was overwhelmed.

If a friend made a rude joke at my expense, I’d laugh it off, then feel secretly hurt.

My pattern was consistent: Don’t complain, don’t show weakness.

Then I found myself in a serious relationship where my tendency to hide my needs caused constant misunderstandings. I’d say everything was “fine,” but my partner sensed my growing resentment.

One night, she basically asked me: “Why don’t you just tell me what you need?”

That question mirrored Maté’s approach so closely that it sent me back to childhood.

The next day, I revisited his line, “When did you decide your needs weren’t important?” — and realized I’d never, in my entire life, given myself permission to have real needs.

When realizing the truth hurts — and heals

This wasn’t about blaming my parents or rewriting my childhood as a horror story.

They did what they could, and my home was relatively stable.

Still, small patterns add up. My parents, like many, believed in tough love.

My siblings were louder, so I learned that to get through family dinners peacefully, I had to be the “quiet, easy” child.

After reading more of Maté’s work, I realized that healing means naming the truth: I did learn to discount my needs.

Once I acknowledged that, I felt a strange mix of grief and relief — grief for the years I’d spent ignoring my authentic feelings, and relief that I could finally do something about it.

Starting the healing process

So how do we unravel a belief that’s been embedded for decades?

Gabor Maté often recommends a blend of compassion-based therapy and honest self-reflection. He says healing starts with awareness: noticing when you’re pushing down your needs and asking why.

For me, journaling became a big part of that process.

Each time I caught myself about to say, “Oh, it’s fine, really,” I’d pause and write down what I was actually feeling.

Was I disappointed? Hurt? Afraid of conflict?

That small exercise taught me how rarely I’d given a name to my emotions.

Overcoming the fear of “selfishness”

One hurdle that comes up when you start prioritizing your needs is the fear of being selfish.

If you’ve spent a lifetime being the laid-back friend, the supportive coworker, or the caretaker in the family, stating your needs can feel uncomfortable.

It may feel like you’re violating some unwritten agreement that you’re the one who always adapts.

Maté would say that’s exactly the point:

You’ve learned to deny yourself out of fear of losing approval or love. But reclaiming your needs isn’t just becoming self-centered.

It means that you’re starting to recognize that you deserve as much consideration as anyone else.

In healthy relationships, both parties get to express needs and boundaries.

Putting it into practice

If Maté’s question resonates with you, consider exploring it in a journal or with a mental health professional.

Ask yourself:

• When have I felt like my needs were a burden?

• What messages did I receive about expressing needs or emotions?

• How do I still live by those messages today?

A therapist trained in trauma or attachment can help you dive deeper, but you can also start on your own by simply noticing your emotional patterns.

Each time you catch yourself downplaying your needs, gently challenge that reflex.

A new way forward

Gabor Maté’s question can be uncomfortable because it reveals that we’ve been walking around with a hidden script:

“My needs don’t matter.”

But that discomfort is also a spark for transformation.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

You become more mindful of your interactions, more honest about your feelings, and more open to learning that the world won’t collapse if you say “no” or “I need help.”

And that’s the most powerful outcome: realizing that your worth doesn’t hinge on burying your own needs.

In fact, your life — and your relationships — will likely flourish when you show up as someone who feels safe and confident in expressing what you truly want.

I’m not saying it’s easy.

Some days, I still slip into old patterns and automatically say, “I’m good” when I’m actually not. But each time I remind myself of Maté’s question, I feel a little freer.

It’s a chance to rewrite my story and give myself permission to matter.

So if you’re carrying a knot of unresolved childhood hurt — if you’ve spent years trying to be the person everyone else needs — take a moment and ask yourself: When did I decide that my needs weren’t important?

You might discover that you’re ready to make a different choice — one where you finally honor your own voice, your own comfort, and your own capacity for growth.