The Woolly Jumper

I remember, as a young child, having a warm, cozy green woolly jumper with a cuddly teddy bear on the front. It was my favourite jumper, and in the winter, I would have worn it every day if I could.

Today, I see many people with their own beautiful jumpers. But as warm and cozy as they once were, they no longer fit. The sleeves now rest closer to their elbows than their wrists, the colours have faded, and moths have eaten holes in the fabric that was meant to keep the cold out.

Although these jumpers once played a key role in their winter wardrobe—perhaps even turning heads when they entered a room—I wonder what they see now when they look in the mirror. Do they recognize an old, worn-out, ill-fitting jumper? Or do they still see the vibrant, captivating piece of clothing they once cherished?

As they sit before me, visibly uncomfortable in a jumper they have long outgrown, they ask why they suddenly feel the cold more and why they feel so restricted. I state the obvious: “Could it be that your jumper is too small for you and that the holes are letting the cold in?” Their reaction is one of shock and horror, as if I had insulted their mother. “Here, let me show you. Look in the mirror—can you see how short the sleeves are and how tight it is over your chest?” I continue, “Perhaps it’s time to replace that jumper with one that fits you better and can actually keep you warm this winter.” With great resistance, like a child unwilling to give up their beloved blanket, we agree to visit the clothing store to find a new jumper.

You see, as children, we develop resourceful coping strategies that serve us well in a child’s world. But as we grow older, if we fail to update our emotional wardrobe, we find that these coping mechanisms no longer work—especially in an adult world. Childlike strategies simply don’t serve us anymore.

Take people-pleasing, for example. As children, we quickly learn that being good or excelling at school earns us praise from our parents. If we share our toys or treats, we are included in our friends' circles. These are what we call conditions of worth. However, as we grow older, this childhood behaviour morphs into chronic people-pleasing, where our sense of acceptance and belonging becomes tied to our actions. We start believing that in order to be liked or valued, we must do something.

The problem with this is that there are no guarantees. We may put in all the effort, but that doesn’t mean we will receive the rewards we seek. So we start playing emotional roulette—investing in relationships and situations that don’t always give back. When our efforts aren’t reciprocated—when we don’t receive the acceptance or inclusion we crave—we become resentful, both toward others and ourselves. As children, people-pleasing may have worked, but as adults, it leaves us exhausted, constantly striving to please everyone except ourselves.

So, is it time to replace our childhood jumpers?