Better to Lose Someone Else Instead of Yourself

As I have told y’all many times before, I have spent much of my life trying to please everyone else.  I would base my decisions on what would make the most people happy.  The problem with that was I would end up doing a lot of things I didn’t want to do, and feel guilty if I disappointed people.  I have also realized that so many of the people in my life who I worry about pleasing have never cared if they disappoint me.  I am learning to be more assertive in my choices, my wants, and my needs.  The hardest part about learning this lesson is realizing that I will have to let some people go.  The realization that some of your friendships are unhealthy is a very hard pill to swallow.  I am doing my best to actually make decisions that make me happy.  That can be as simple as staying in on a Thursday, to walking away from a friendship, to not texting a ridiculously good looking guy because I know his intentions are not honorable (and I deserve more than being someone’s backup plan).

Going to therapy makes you very self-aware, and I’ve learned the feeling of my inadequacy runs deeper than I thought.  I have to constantly fight the voice in the back of my head that says I am too fat, not smart enough, nothing special, and I don’t deserve for people to care about me, my thoughts, and my feelings.  I have to fight the voice that says I am not worth loving or I am not good enough to be someone’s priority.       

The holidays, for some reason, seem much harder.  It is a time for giving, but I have to remember not to give all of myself.  Last year I forgot that; last year I gave my heart to someone so very undeserving.  There has to be a balance, a way to be a caring person and to keep yourself.  I sometimes envy people who can just say what they want and not care about the consequences, about how it will make other people feel.  Though, I suppose I did that last year, when I told D that I loved him, but the only person it hurt was me.  

I used to think I was strong enough to get through anything, but I was wrong.  Back then I was neither strong enough to walk away, nor to stand up for myself.  But now, I am stronger and I will continue to become a stronger person.  Settling for what someone is willing to give instead of finding someone who can give what I deserve is no longer an option.  I will not be guilted into neglecting my own needs to please the whims of others.  

#TBT, Cocktail Party Hatred

This is something I wrote before the Capitol Confessions ever existed.  It is actually one of the ramblings that made me think a blog might be a good idea.  Even though the circumstances of my life are very different from when I wrote it, there is still a lot of truth to it.  Thought I would share it with you on this Throwback Thursday.

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Do you ever find yourself loving something you typically hate?  You know that thing that you always tell your friends you cannot stand.  Then, there is the exception, that moment when you actually enjoy the object of your typical loathing.  

For me, it is making small talk at a cocktail reception.  Don’t get me wrong, I love happy hour and cocktails.  Specifically, the situation when you are stuck in mindless conversation with people about whom you couldn’t care less.  After working all day, happy hour is supposed to be a release, not a stressor.  A big part of my job is fake smiles in-person and sweet reassurance over the phone.  When I am at work, I am “on” all the time.  When I leave, I just want to cut the bullshit and be myself.  I don’t want to fake interest for someone with whom I neither want to be friends nor sleep with.  Plain and simple, cocktail parties are the bane of my existence.  

Then, there is the exception to this.  There are times when I feel irrelevant.  Work is making me feel like the size of a pea.  I need an ego boost, a reminder that I can work the room.  There is an adrenaline rush to knowing only half the people at a party, a surge of confidence that I have not felt in quite sometime.  Nothing is better than finding a personal win when I corner the guy at the party who is avoiding me because we made out in college. I feel even more ecstatic when I realize he got fat.  

I then begin to think that I am the master of the cocktail party, and my party persona rules all.  So, I RSVP “yes” to another event.  I wear the perfect outfit, and head to work all vamped up for another boost.  Then, you get to the party after a long day at the office.  The same satisfaction I had at the last event just isn't there.  The wine doesn’t taste as good; the conversation bores me, and I wonder why I am wasting my precious free time with a room of practical strangers.  I suddenly hate being at cocktail parties again.  Loathing overtakes me and the natural order has returned.  

Why? I don’t need my ego stroked at this time.  Someday, I will despise my lack of importance more than I despise a room full of uninteresting people.  The time will come that I will need to be the life of the party, even if the party sucks.  Until then, I will go around telling all my friends how much I hate cocktail parties, and I will not let them drag me to one.