Pleaser

I have never really been a people pleaser. In fact, I pride myself on my well practiced ability to go against the grain in almost every single situation possible. I don’t want to follow trend, or do something solely because I know it will impress or please someone else. I march to the beat of my own drum, and for the most part, this sees me floating around in my own little blissful bitch bubble of safety and solitude.

When I was growing up, my Grandmother was not my biggest fan. This came down to the fact that I was strong willed and determined. I wasn’t a pushover and are certainly was not scared of her. I was also every single bit like my Mother. Every afternoon, after school, myself and my 2 siblings would have to ride to her place and stay until my Mum could pick us up. I absolutely hated this ritual. I always felt like I was alone when I was there, even though my Brother and Sister were with me. She was the type of woman who never really had a great deal of good things to say to me. This is the woman, who in my previous blog told me I looked like a Model, but I was fat….. So yeah, you could say my relationship with her was extremely strained. 

Most afternoons, from what I remember, I would argue with her and my siblings, I would essentially be a little shit simply because I thought it was my right. I mean, she showed me no respect, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to give her respect in return! I was a little asshole when I wanted to be. I remember, quite vividly, not being allowed to have a snack one afternoon. I remember standing in the kitchen with my siblings and I wasn’t allowed to have a snack but they were. SO one could forgive me for not being an angel when I was in her care….

Some days I would cave, I would desperately seek her approval, her praise. My brother is quite crafty and so is my sister. They made amazing things. My sister used to make these plasticine models of houses. They would include all sorts of furniture, fruit bowls and fridges with doors that actually opened. My brother made things in art and wood works class. They were both also really good at their chosen sports. My brother played soccer and my sister was an awesome dancer. I on the other hand, was this free spirited writer who sung in her spare time. My only real form of creativity that held any merit was my writing. I would write story after story. I would be nose deep in books almost every hour of the day, looking for inspiration for my next story. My work was not of any real interest to her, yet I wanted her to approve of something I did, with real interest, not feigned interest that you could see right through.

My mum told me a story of how when I was in Grade 3 or 4, I was having to keep a journal of what I did in the afternoon, after school as my homework. Now, as the story goes, me in my youthful wisdom, or my extreme lack of filter, wrote about how I had to go to my Grandmothers house and I didn’t like to go there. I was essentially throwing major shade at my Nan with no regard for the consequences! My homework was specific, I had to write about what I did in the afternoons, you can’t lie to your Journal, that is just blasphemy! My Grandmother read this particular journal entry and blasted my Mum for allowing me to write such things. I mean damn, I was an 8 year old with a grudge the size of Texas toward a woman who showed me absolutely no care or love, the kind you would expect from your Nan. No wonder I decided to throw her under the bus!

My mum never made me tear up that Journal entry, because my mum knows me far too well. She knew that they were my thoughts and she was not going to censor my thoughts. I’m pretty grateful for that. It would have been quite the creative roadblock. Mum and Dad encouraged my only real creative outlet, because if I couldn’t be found, they would know I was either reading a book, or writing a story. Mum knew how I felt about these afternoon trips to Nans house, but unfortunately, when my dad worked nights and mum worked days for the most part, we had no real option. I just put on the brave face and continued to be a menace because it was the only way I knew how to deal.

In the time that I had to spend at my Nan’s place, I wasn’t aware of the life lessons I was being taught inadvertently. But now, as a semi functioning 31 year old Mother, I have come to accept the lessons she taught me. She taught me to remain resilient, to not let one person make or break you. There are so many times, even through my teenage years that she could have completely crushed my soul, but I was so pig headed about letting her beat me, that  flat out refused to let her. She taught me to stay true to myself and my beliefs. I was who I was, and there was no way she could change the fact that I am my mothers daughter.

She also taught me, what ever you choose to do in your life, which ever direction you choose to take, do it for yourself. Don’t do things because you are searching for the respect and admiration of others. Don’t set goals that don’t have you as the main priority. Don’t sell yourself short because you don’t want to do better than someone, simply to spare their feelings. Don’t be that guy, the one who is so desperate for acceptance, that you lose sight of the person you are. Just think for a moment, the person you’re trying to impress, would they give up what they have for you? Would they sit there on the sidelines cheering you on, if it meant they have to sit out of their achievements? I’m not saying, fuck the world and be selfish, but what I am saying is, you do not need the worlds approval to be amazing. You don’t need to have the tick of approval from society to say you’re doing a good job. You are doing a good job, regardless of what anyone else has to say. In fact, you’re doing a fucking bang up job, you just need to stop prioritising everyone else and their feelings above your own and start achieving for you.

We can be so determined to be liked, accepted and appreciated. I don’t think this is a bad thing necessarily, I just think to myself, if I’m not willing to put this much dedication and appreciation into myself, why the hell am I throwing all of me to people who won’t appreciate my worth. Though this sounds like a bitter bitch session, I can assure you its not. It’s a different perspective, a different take on what we as a society believe we should be giving of ourselves to other people. I love the idea of people being accepting of who you are, without any questions about your decisions, but unfortunately, thats not how the world works. You need to protect your heart, and protect your sanity from people who are so openly willing to tear you down.