For all of my decision making life, I’ve been a people-pleaser. It’s not even something I realized about myself until a few months ago, because it’s such a huge part of who I am.
I’ve always believed you get out of the world what you put into it. If all you put out is anger and negativity, that’s what you’d get back from the universe. But if you put good out there, if you helped others and took care of them, you’d get goodness and light back.
I still believe that with my whole heart. I don’t think I could be any other way if I specifically put my mind to it. But here’s the thing: Sometimes, when all you do is put good out into the world, helping people and taking care of them, what you get back from them isn’t what you put in. Sometimes all you get back is nothing. Because those people are sponges. Psychic vampires. They can suck all the goodness out of you, wring you dry, and leave you with nothing left to give anyone or anything else. You’re left physically, emotionally, and mentally empty, until it feels like the very heart of who and what you are was carved out, leaving a giant, gaping black hole.
I’ve learned the universe will always pay you back what you deserve, though. It will rarely be from the people you went out of your way for, either because they’re not capable of giving back to you or aren’t aware they used you up and spit you back out again. But I still believe goodness attracts goodness. Negativity attracts more negativity.
Wait. We’ve heard this before, right?
I got pregnant with my oldest at eighteen. I was a kid, as naive and optimistic as they come, and two decades away from learning anything about myself. Especially that some people aren’t worth your sacrificing everything for. I was twenty years away from realizing that beyond losing my kids, my greatest fear was becoming invisible again. Two decades from even realizing I’d ever been invisible to begin with.
All I knew at eighteen was that my life was awesome. I was the happiest person I knew. By far, the most optimistic. Hell, for his first tattoo, my husband got the Kanji symbol for ‘cheerfulness’ on his arm for me. I loved taking care of the people in my life. If I didn’t always love being a housewife and all the responsibilities that came with it, I thrived on being the one to take care of my kids and my husband.
And if, occasionally, I felt like I was being taken advantage of, I brushed it off. I was okay. Happy. So it was more important for the other person to take too much of my time, energy, or spirit, than it was for me to defend myself. I knew I’d be okay. Hell, I was the strongest person I knew. (Yeah, I know, I wonder why I ran out of spoons.) I can’t tell you how many times I thought to myself: “It’s okay, I’m okay. They need attention more than I needed help back.” or “Yeah, it sucks they were so shitty and selfish, but I’m okay. They may not be.”
I lived my life with Eleanor Roosevelt’s words in my head: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
No one could hurt me unless I let them. And I refused to let them. Or, so I thought.
Screw This Shit, I’m Out
Because with my ADD diagnosis at 41, came the clearing of the brain I’d never known was so damn cluttered. For the first time in my life, I could think clearly, which was weird, because I never realized I <i>wasn’t</i> thinking straight. It became LATER. As in, after four decades of shoving my emotions down to think about later, it was suddenly impossible for me to do anymore. Not only did I suddenly have decades worth of hurt and anger and resentment to deal with, I was completely, utterly unable to look at anything the way I once did. And, Jesus, what I saw when I looked at myself–looked at my life–was one big carnival fun house of f*ckery. It was suddenly very, very obvious that people weren’t in my life because they loved me. Oh, don’t get me wrong, they needed me, but only because I did freaking *everything* for them.
It’s now been a year and a half since that diagnosis. I’m still out of spoons, but one thing I learned is that “No.” is a complete sentence. No explanation required. No justification needed.
“No.”
And I also realized that half the things I did for other people not only didn’t need to be done, but that some of the people I was bending over backward to keep in my life didn’t need to be there. I was just fine and dandy without them, and I was done being the one to do the work to keep them there. If they wanted to be in my life, in my girls’ lives, they could put the effort in. Or, at the very least, meet us halfway.
Because screw. that. shit. If the only reason you’re in my life is because I make it easy for you to do something you’d have to do anyway, I don’t need– or want–you there, anyway. I’m an awesome person. I still do waaay too much for other people, so it’s not like you’re not getting something out of it. But if the only reason you’re in my life is because I’m the one who puts the effort in for you to be there, screw you. There’s the goddamn door.
I’m worth the effort to keep in your life, too. It may have taken me a long ass time to figure that out, but I finally got there. I’m not invisible. People didn’t stop needing me, or even seeing me, when I stopped doing everything for them. People that cared about me <i>wanted</i> to be in my life, and get this–they stepped up when *I* needed help. Because they’d just been waiting in the sidelines for me to need them, too.
Eleanor Roosevelt was right. “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I still believe that with my whole heart. But that doesn’t mean people aren’t assholes sometimes, and don’t need to be called out on their shit. Just because you choose not to be hurt by someone, doesn’t mean you need to keep allowing them to try to hurt you.
Trust me. I walked away from a ten year best friendship over this. Because I was worth more than she let me believe. Because I was worth talking to like I had something to give. Because I was worth talking to with respect.
So. Here’s what I know: If you apologize to someone for hurting you. If you tell yourself it’s okay they hurt you, they just needed to vent.
If you believe you aren’t worth the effort of talking to like a decent human being.
You’re wrong. Look that person in the eye and tell them “Screw this shit, bitch. I’m out.”
Then hit me up on Facebook, so I can virtually fist bump you.
“IT IS WHAT IT IS”
Sample post with centered image
It’s Official. I’m Out Of Spoons.
BRAVO!!!!!!! Well spoken!