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Your people-pleasing is making you lonely. Here’s how to build a village

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Your people-pleasing is making you lonely. Here’s how to build a village

“I hear all the time — I’m 35, 45, 55, 65, 75 — and I have no idea who I am. I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I need, I’ve only lived in a role. Good girl, good daughter, good wife, good employee, good grandma … who am I?” Beatriz Victoria Albina says of the thousands of women she’s specialized in serving for the last decade. “From there, we struggle to make decisions. We take on a therapist role in relationships, always listening, always supporting, always problem-solving, but we don’t get that support in return for so many reasons.”

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Shelf Help is a wellness column where we interview researchers, thinkers and writers about their latest books — all with the aim of learning how to live a more complete life.

A certified somatic life coach, breathworker and former nurse practitioner, who resides in Brooklyn, Albina is the author of “End Emotional Outsourcing: How to Overcome Your Codependent, Perfectionist, People-Pleasing Habits(out in paperback this September), which educates readers on these phenomena and shows them how to live a more fulfilling life. Her book guides readers through techniques such as body-based somatic practices and thought work, building to the capacity for utilizing healthy boundaries and direct communication.

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Albina is also the host of the popular podcast “Feminist Wellness.” In the podcast, she serves as a loving alternative auntie figure and often addresses her audience with quirky pet names such as “my tender ravioli.” A queer Latina who immigrated from Argentina at 3 years old with her family when they fled the dictatorship of the 1980s, she has grown a following for her sage advice, warm sense of humor and loving voice, as well as for contextualizing how ending emotional outsourcing actively confronts the external systems of oppression that govern our world.

“We learned, often when we were preverbal or very young, that our authentic self is not OK, is not appreciated, is not welcome, is not the right way to be. Whether that’s in our family of origin, in our extended family or in institutions,” Albina says.

With her background in healthcare, Albina also leans into the science behind what she teaches, educating her readers — “my nerds,” as she calls them — on science-backed, trauma-informed techniques to connect with themselves and transform their relationships from codependence to interdependence. Her aim is to reroute individuals from relying on the approval of the people and systems outside to instead deepening our relationships with ourselves and our community in ways that are more fulfilling.

Albina spoke with us over Zoom from New York. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Author Beatriz Albina

“End Emotional Outsourcing” author Beatriz Victoria Albina.

(Photo courtesy of author.)

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You coined the term “emotional outsourcing” — why? Do you hope that people will adopt it rather than using the other terms that make up the subtitle of your book?

I really wanted to delineate that these aren’t who you are. They’re verbs. They’re what you’re doing. They’re survival habits, so they are brilliant and laudable ways that you learned to secure safety, belonging, and worth outside of yourself when that felt like the only option. So we really need a sea change where we move away from, “It’s who I am.” Instead, let’s really talk about, “It’s what I was doing, and sometimes it’s what I still do out of habit, but it’s not inherent to who I am as a mammal.”

Are these three subtitle terms — codependent, perfectionist, peoplepleasing — interchangeable or interlinked? What differentiates them from one another?

They each inform each other. Codependent habits are really about managing other people, and then people-pleasing is one way we can do that. Perfectionism is when we bring it home to ourselves — ‘I’ve got to control who I am and, thus, how I’m being seen so that I’m not rejected.’ It all really comes down to attachment wounding in a really deep way, and the ways that we seek to feel not-so-freaked-out when that wounding gets activated.

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How can readers identify if this book is for them?

"End Emotional Outsourcing" book cover

Downplaying our needs, stuffing down our feelings. Not knowing what we want, because we’ve spent so long prioritizing others. If you believe that if you don’t take care of someone, that they’ll leave or stop loving you. If you accept less than optimal treatment because you don’t want to be left. If you avoid advocating for yourself because it feels selfish or scary or bad. Overexplaining, over-apologizing, over-justifying. Not resting. Feeling guilty when you take a break or set a boundary. I could go on.

In your book, you guide readers toward becoming interdependent, rather than codependent or independent. How does one make this distinction in their relationships? What implications does this transition have on day-to-day life?

The way you know the difference is felt in the body. In a codependent pattern, in a codependent survival habit, we are doing things, saying things, being things to attempt to get someone else, to have an emotion, to try to manage or control the way someone else thinks about or relates to us. The choice that we’re making is not centered in self. Reciprocity within capitalism and white supremacy is tit for tat. In codependency, it’s also tit for tat.

Meanwhile, interdependence is when we are two autonomous humans, relating from mutuality and reciprocity that is flowing like water. We’re not manipulating or pushing ourselves, we’re not manipulating or controlling them. In interdependence, we’re giving from our emotional overflow, and the love and care we receive in that reciprocity, for caring for the people in our lives, balances out. But we’re not putting ourselves out to the point where we’re living in resentment, because we’re not making it mean anything about ourselves, or them, or our relationship.

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We hear often about the epidemic of loneliness that we are living in. In your book, at the end, you talk about how through ending emotional outsourcing, you’ve cultivated a fulfilling chosen family, and that you make a practice of showing up for community care. What advice might you have for folks who recognize that they’re craving something different from how they’re presently experiencing their day-to-day realities but can’t see how to change it?

All right, listen, community care, babies. You’ve got to do the day-to-day banal stuff with your friends. You know, if you want a village, you’ve got to be a villager. Villages aren’t made in one coffee date and a lunch date, and drinks at a loud bar where you can’t hear anything anyway.

So, like, my friend and I go to the supermarket together on Mondays, and I go with her to pick up her kid because I want to spend time with her and that’s what she’s got to do. Go with your friend to the community garden, help them weed their tomatoes. Your body needs a new coat? Go thrifting together. Do the daily dumb stuff. Help your friends, you know? Not to brag, but I’m very good at laundry. The life I want is in doing the things of life. It’s having a soup club where we take turns dropping off soup at each other’s houses. That’s what community building is about.

Could you talk about the connection between the thought work and the body-based somatics that you teach?

When we’re daydreaming and ruminating and self-reflecting and mentally time-traveling or imagining other people’s thoughts, we’re not present. Somatic and nervous system support helps us to step into presence. When we are actually present in the moment, we’re in conscious awareness and we’re present in our bodies. It’s not any more complicated than that. That allows us to step into choiceful-ness. I can pick the meaning-making here. And I can listen to my body, and I can make a choice that is supportive of the collective, but it’s not self-abandoning. It respects the people around me without disrespecting myself. We drop into the present moment, and we write a new story in real time, hopefully with the whole body on board. And that’s how, very slowly, through somatic (body-based) practices, we start to create a lot more room to actually be a real person in our lives.

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You’ve included journaling questions to work with, especially in the thoughtwork section. What advice do you have for folks who want to do the journaling but are struggling with adding it to perhaps our perfectionist-created to-do list. Any tips?

Yes. The kitten step is community. Text a friend, ‘Do you want to do these stupid journals together?’ And then hopefully she says, ‘Yes.’ And then you meet every other week for an hour on Wednesday, and you friggin’ do it. And you body double, or you read them to each other. You make a plan that involves another person, or a group, because we’re pack animals. We need to co-regulate. When the book first came out, I had a free book club, because we need each other. So, make a book club! Or tell your therapist or your coach you’re going to be doing these questions and then bring them to the session.

Illustration of a woman regaining her sense of self

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

Here’s something American concertgoers might not know: before a musician from another country can take the stage in the U.S., someone has to file paperwork with the federal government on their behalf. And not just any paperwork — a petition, hundreds of pages long, stacked with press clippings, award documentation, testimonial letters from other artists, venue contracts, a detailed tour itinerary, and evidence that the artist is legitimately accomplished at what they do.

And that’s just to start the clock in a process that may take over a year to complete.

This is the reality for international artists — from musicians to painters, dancers to comedians — who want to come to the U.S. to share their work. It’s a complicated, expensive process that arts advocates say has long made the country a difficult place for foreign artists to access. But now, they say it’s gotten much worse.

The time it takes to process a visa has dramatically increased. The number of available interview slots at U.S. embassies is backlogged. Application costs have surged. And there’s an added layer of uncertainty: paperwork can be perfect, fees can be paid, and yet artists still can be turned away at the border.

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For U.S. audiences, all of this means a quiet loss of global cultural exchange.

What does the artist visa process look like?

To illustrate the nonimmigrant visa process for artists, let’s take Kongero, a small, Swedish folk a cappella group that completed its second U.S. tour last fall.

First step: File a petition.

The group’s booking agent planned the tour and gathered all the necessary documentation to file a petition with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) to demonstrate that the group qualified for a P-3 visa, the category for culturally unique artists.

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What are your most cherished memories of the 2026 World Cup in L.A.?

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What are your most cherished memories of the 2026 World Cup in L.A.?

My favorite memory of the 2026 World Cup happened last month. By the late morning of June 18 in Koreatown, hours ahead of the Mexico vs. South Korea group-stage match, it was apparent that the neighborhood would be unrecognizable by kickoff.

I had heard rumblings about the Korean Festival Foundation’s watch party, but once I found out it would take place at Seoul International Park, I was almost dissuaded entirely. Although it is the beloved destination of my dog’s morning walks, its insignificant size and awkward location just off Olympic Boulevard didn’t seem appropriate for such a coveted event. So, I went to scout it out beforehand — and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. There were already about 100 to 200 fans in the park, about six hours before the first whistle; laughing, drinking, lending a hand to vendor setups.

My apartment is only about six-odd blocks from the park, but closer to the game, I noticed a gigantic wave of red, lavender and white jerseys already crashing toward the watch party. It took my roommates and me about 30 minutes to walk the half-mile at 4 p.m., squeezing past fervent fans to eke out a spot in front of one of the two humongous screens situated on either side of Irolo Street.

Unfortunately for us, all of the good vantage points were taken. A mass in front of both screens was impenetrable; smaller televisions hooked up to generators were already seized by 10 too many eyes; even the roofs surrounding the park were full of attendees much bolder and athletic than me. We settled on the soccer field in the park, where we could juggle a ball around a bit while watching the match on our phones (and thank you to my girlfriend’s dad for his Peacock subscription).

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The first half onscreen was mostly uneventful, but off-screen, I was able to witness a sort of camaraderie seen rarely in sprawling Los Angeles. People were swarming vendors from eateries all around Koreatown, dance circles formed around speakers blasting banda music, and “oohs” and “ahhs” at every missed shot were in perfect sync. Then, it happened: a goal in the 50th minute by Luis Romo of the Mexican side. The park and its surroundings exploded into a collective cheer that tickled my rib cage and resonated deep in my ear canal to the point I had to cover my ears. I can hardly remember if I joined the chorus, or if the excitement was so heavy that I just felt like an equal part of it.

Seeing my neighborhood in this light will stick with me much longer than the 1-0 result, or the fact that neither of these teams (both of which I partially rooted for) made it far into the tournament. But these memories, I believe, are what the World Cup is really about.

So tell us about your most cherished memory of the 2026 World Cup in L.A. so far. And remember, no moment is too small. We may feature it in an upcoming story.

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Sam Neill, known for ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘The Piano,’ dies at 78, his family says

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Sam Neill, known for ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘The Piano,’ dies at 78, his family says

Sam Neill arrives at the premiere of “Apples Never Fall” on March 12, 2024, in Los Angeles.

Richard Shotwell/AP Photo/Invision


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Richard Shotwell/AP Photo/Invision

WELLINGTON, New Zealand — Sam Neill, a smoothly elegant and versatile actor whose career moved from art film to blockbuster as he dodged velociraptors in “Jurassic Park” to playing Holly Hunter’s husband in “The Piano,” has died. He was 78.

In 2023, Neill disclosed he had been diagnosed with angioimmunoblastic T-cell lymphoma, a rare type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Neill died on Monday in Sydney, according to a statement posted to the actor’s social media page.

His death was “sudden and unexpected,” the statement said, adding that he “remained cancer free” when he died. A cause of death wasn’t specified.

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“Sam was surrounded by family and passed with the dignity that has characterised his whole life,” his family wrote.

Actor came to world’s notice with ‘Dead Calm’ and ‘My Brilliant Career’

Neill was one of a host of actors and directors who achieved international fame after an explosion of Australian films that began in the late 1970s, a list that includes Paul Hogan, Mel Gibson, Geoffrey Rush, Russell Crowe, Jane Campion, Peter Weir and Gillian Armstrong. His range was remarkable, playing opposite Helena Bonham Carter in the Alan Ayckbourn comedy “Sweet Revenge” to chopping off Hunter’s finger in “The Piano” to poking his own eyes out in the sci-fi horror “Event Horizon.”

In “Omen III: The Final Conflict,” he played Damien the Antichrist and he also played Cardinal Thomas Wolsey in “The Tudors.”

The actor first came to the attention of international audiences in Armstrong’s 1979 film “My Brilliant Career,” which also introduced Judy Davis. He later appeared in Phillip Noyce’s “Dead Calm,” a classy thriller set at sea and co-starring the then-relatively unknown Nicole Kidman.

Neill twice co-starred with Meryl Streep, in Australian director Fred Schepisi’s “Plenty” and — again for Schepisi — in “A Cry in the Dark,” a film about the sensationalized aftermath of a dingo killing a baby in the Australian Outback. He earned an Emmy nomination for his performance in the title role of the 1998 miniseries “Merlin” and another as narrator of 2017’s “Wild New Zealand.”

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