I’ve had a couple of experiences lately of people pointing out the traits I’m sensitive about. No one’s been mean about it; the remarks have been delivered offhand, as in: “Wow, you’re pretty grumpy about this,” or “You like to be in control, don’t you?” Each time the comment has taken me by surprise and left me with an unpleasant sensation of hurt inquiry: if you’ve noticed that, what else are you thinking?
I’ve heard that alcoholics, drug addicts, and people with disordered behavior often think that no one else notices what they’re doing. They think their family hasn’t seen the extra drinks they’ve downed with the holiday meal, or the sneaking out for a hit, or the sounds of retching that issue regularly from the bathroom. It appears I felt the same way about my pickiness, my control-freak tendencies, and all my other neurotic habits — else why would I be so surprised at these remarks?
When I’ve talked to Erik about my need to be liked, particularly in situations where I find myself wondering whether someone really likes me, he’ll say jokingly, “I guess it’s time to tell you. Everyone criticizes you behind your back.” I’ll then reply melodramatically, “I knew it! I always suspected it was true!” Though the loving humor always makes me feel better, there’s a part of me that’s really not kidding, that does think everyone secretly hates me. Does everyone have this voice lurking inside? I wouldn’t be surprised.
This voice has been particularly active for me lately, starting (I believe) from the emotions post I wrote a few weeks ago. I haven’t exactly been mired in self-consciousness and anxiety, but there has been a sensation of shifting sands, of unease and remapping of territory. I think the main difficulty is I realize it’s actually hopeless to remap the territory: there is no way to pin down other people’s reactions to me, or my reactions to them, and anyway nothing has changed except my own perceptions. It’s kind of terrifying, honestly, but I’m not overcome by it — which is its own kind of edgy-scary.
The feeling is, however, familiar. Over the past few years I have noticed that every time I’ve like this — scared and uncertain — it’s been a sign of growth. So I’ve been reminding myself of this, and that helps. I realized yesterday that if my goal is to be internally motivated (which means ignoring what anyone else thinks), then I should be prepared to expose the traits I’m most sensitive about; I should know I’m setting myself up to be annoying to some, silly to some, disliked by some. So there is a grim satisfaction in thinking: “If people secretly hate me, I must be doing something right.” And I really don’t think, intellectually, that they do hate me; I’m just over-sensitive about this right now.
So it’s reassuring to think that I’m doing it right, and it’s also reassuring that — alongside the part of me that just cries when people don’t like me — there’s a part of me that truly doesn’t care what anyone thinks (or at least knows and believes that I shouldn’t care!). It used to be that when someone pointed out one of these traits, I’d start beating myself up about it, and then try my best to squash or conceal the offending trait. In other words, I’d be mortified at my imperfection (as I wrote last week). But now I think that’s just pointless. I have many good traits, and I shouldn’t expect to have no bad ones! Anyone who really loves and/or respects me will accept both… and I must include myself as one of these people who really loves and respects me. I have to accept myself for myself, and that’s a territory that I can map out.
This painting, at the top of this post — that’s what it’s about. It’s my first figure painting of myself, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever attempted to draw myself in multiple representations at once. There’s also an element of still life in it, as the items on the desk at left are the “oranges” from yesterday’s post. π This effort was quite sketchy (though I really like it); I’m looking forward to trying a more careful version at a later date.
I can’t count how many times people have told me that they are intimidated by me, or think I’m angry, when I see myself as the opposite. I understand the hurt. When someone tells me that another is scared of me, I think, but I’m a nice person! But these kinds of things bother me less now. Being older is part of it, having gone through a cancer scare is part of it, but mainly now my response is, ‘who cares?’. I speak out more, I’m more honest in the things I say, I care less if people don’t like me, and I cuss when I want to! Worrying less about what others think of me has allowed me to have a bit more fun in life. And it has allowed me to be much more outspoken. I don’t think it’s necessarily learning to become more self confident as much as it is about learning to shave off the polite society rules expectations that a girl is raised with. So I hope you can shed these unkind things people say to you. Give those comments less importance and feel no guilt for being who you are.
Ouf, that is quite an experience, to be taken for intimidating when you’re not trying to be! I can’t say that’s ever happened to me; it’s more often that people think I’m shy when I’m not. ;b
It’s great to hear you being unafraid and unashamed to be yourself, whatever others might think. I want to get to that place. You’re right that a lot of it has to do with the way girls are socialized; for me, being Chinese also has a lot to do with it. (I have a blog post about that all written and ready to publish. Maybe tomorrow!) Thank you for the encouragement. π
I love the way you paint, even when it’s sketchy. (And of course, in keeping with the spirit of this post, I understand that it doesn’t really matter whether I like it or not. π I’m glad that you like it!) I especially love the portrait of you on the desk!
I really identify with what you’re saying here because just last week, I was with my daughter and my sister and though I usually am trying too hard to please (even if I’m not always very good at it) they mistook my playfulness for something else. It probably wasn’t even that, so much as it was very clear from their stern faces that I was being TOO MUCH at the time. I almost cried, and my throat felt like it was closing up. Luckily some valuable family therapy in the past (a wonderful, wonderful thing when one can afford it!) helped me to keep telling myself that I know I’m okay. I know my intent, but they get to set their boundaries, and that’s healthy. Still, sometimes relationships feel like a minefield. I’m learning how to just be myself, too, and accept myself– without worrying about every little thing that other people think.
Thank you, RΓ©. π I generally like the way I paint, too, though sometimes I get frustrated that I can’t seem to paint any other way. ;b
Your story made me hurt inside, I could so feel what that felt like and it made me think of all the times I’ve gotten similar responses from people I love. I don’t usually feel like relationships are a minefield, but lately I’ve been getting some of that (hence my feeling about “shifting sands”) and it’s scary. A lot of it does seem to be about accepting and loving ourselves and remembering that other people won’t always be able to do that for us, that we have to be there for ourselves. I always find that a simultaneously terrifying and comforting thought.
Here’s to loving ourselves and knowing we’re okay. π
Good morning Ladybug Lisa, that’s a beautiful painting! That is definitely a department that I’m NOT gifted in, and that’s perfectly cool! π That’s what YOU’RE for – beautifying this world with your art! Though less than seismic, there is another shift going on with you right now, as well. (At least this is what I’m gathering from your collective writings.) You are also moving more toward your own center, where only your validation is required. Part of your attunement/awareness of what others’ think and say, has to do somewhat with the whole “process” of self-actualization. It’s part of the necessary purging for your own transformation. Not that you’ll ever get to this place where you’ll be totally unaffected by external views, but as you become more secure in your own gifts and talents, you’ll move more toward self-evaluation, analysis, and personal growth. On some level, I suppose it’s good for you to acknowledge the feelings associated with wanting to be liked, but on a more important level, it really doesn’t matter much what others think, particularly when you’re already doing so much to inspire, uplift, and brighten the world. Your heart and hands are in the right place, and your intentions need not ever be questioned. Your mind needs to also be squarely in that place, giving yourself the validation that matters most.Keep on being beautiful, keep on beautifying, and keep on moving – to your center, the very core of who you are! Take the “good and the bad” and let it motivate you to that space I call “greater”. Be well, my traveling buddy! While I haven’t blogged in a few days (doing my best to spend more time recovering, healing, and getting well), I feel very much connected through these writings, and look forward to the ritual of breaking bread through our literary (and visual) machinations, ramblings, and explorations. Thank you!
Thank you ever so much, lovely SomerEmpress! I read your comment first thing this morning and it was perfectly what I needed to hear. You’re right on — I feel like I’m journeying determinedly toward my center, and that means shedding (or working through) a lot of stuff, like my relationships with other people and their expectations (and my expectations of/for them!). It’s not always a comfortable journey but by god it’s interesting, and I wouldn’t be able to make it so cleanly without all you fellow travellers. π
I’m sending you healing energy for your recovery! And some California sunshine and spring breezes! π
Good morning Lisa,
I’m glad that something here made sense, and that you received my words in the Spirit which which they were written! Two things come to mind: “All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes” (Maya Angelou), and “Wouldn’t Take Nothing For My Journey Now” (title of an African-American hymn, as well as a popularized, but timely affirmation). Let’s put on our big-girl shoes this morning! π Thanks for sending some of that healing energy my way! It’s working!
π Have some more healing energy! It’s warm here today — I’ll send that too!
Speaking of shoes, are you familiar with Ruth Forman’s poetry? Last summer at VONA I got to hear her read her poem, “Prayers Like Shoes,” and it was just amazing. My friend Stacie has the poem up at her blog here: http://girlgriot.wordpress.com/2011/04/01/her-mamas-gift/
That’s so cool what she said above! self-actualisation sounds awesome. I dig the shift and also connect to your journey. we express ourselves differently, but it’s all part of the same, letting go to be the best we can π
Thank you, Esther. π Glad we’re walking the path together. π
Thanks for the reco on Formann Lisa! Just read it! Cool! Definitely aligned. Put it on like shoes! Yes!
She is SO amazing. π
What helps me is not to binary, false/limited words like “good” or “bad,” “like” or “hate.” These words are not helpful and don’t lead anywhere real or productive. My childhood friend, an extremely talented and successful and (frankly) unlikable person upon first acquaintance–she’s an acquired taste, like beer or gorgonzola–she always said, “It’s part of my charm” and left it at that.
And saying “It’s part of my charm” is definitely a huge part of her charm.
It’s true. The people I love, I don’t just like the “good” “nice” “likable” parts of them. I love all their parts, even the ugly, strange, awkward bits. And I’m sure you feel the same way. So why couldn’t other people extend the same grace? I think they do. That’s what I really, really like about people.
I try not to go in for binaries either, though sometimes they just seem to present themselves, and I have to try to unpick them and spread them out a bit more. On the other hand, I have had some of my best insights and best work come out of things that I felt extremely strongly opposed to, or strongly interested in. That’s where “good/bad” and “love/hate” can be productive, because then I can ask myself “why? why are you having this response? what would you change?” and those questions usually lead to interesting places.