Harsh Truths From A Known People Pleaser
Being a people pleaser is not for the faint of heart. Letting people down is one of the most upsetting feelings I manage. I feel it in my heart deep down in my gut and I carry the horrible feeling around with me for weeks and often months when I have to say no or can not fulfill an obligation. Being a Type-A, anxiety-riddled, control freak really ramps up the intensity too.
I’m also organized, and efficient and I genuinely like helping out! So when people ask me to get involved, I’m always happy to do so and excited to be asked. However, several times, just this calendar year, several things I keep sort of on a low burn – if you will – have all culminated into high-level obligations all at the same time. Just when I came up for air from one period of obligations, I went right into another. It was nuts! In both cases, I looked at my husband and said, “I had no way of knowing this was going to happen.” He agreed. These things came out of nowhere, but here I stood deeply involved.
Being a people pleaser is the worst. I have high standards, feel the need to be perfect, always feel anxious, over-apologize, let everyone walk all over me in an effort to make everyone happy, and then forget to take care of myself.
0/10 would not recommend.
The Harsh Truths From This People Pleaser
I never want people to think I’m difficult because I’m not! My goodness, as just described, I’m more than willing to go out of my way for you, but the problem is, when is that ever reciprocated? The answer is – it’s rarely reciprocated. I’m not saying this to be a victim or to make you feel bad for me. It’s my fault.
It’s time for me to start saying no. Correction: say no and continue to say no. My friend has a really good response to people who won’t give up when they ask her to volunteer for something and she’s said no because she’s already overcommitted. Her response is this: “A yes to you means a no to my family.”
It’s pretty brilliant.
My needs aren’t selfish and that’s the harshest truth I have to come to terms. It’s hard, especially as a mom. We’re always taking care of someone. We have to also remember to take care of ourselves.
(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)
I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.
Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.
So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL
I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.
I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.
Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …
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