Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash
For a long time, I let other people define me. I would attempt to figure out what they expected of me, and then act accordingly. I wanted so badly to feel like I belonged and I was part of the group, I would change who I was just to fit in.
As a people pleaser, I got my definition and validation from how people viewed me. It would devastate me if someone didn’t like me. I would go out of my way to make things right and to ensure that they had a good view of me.
Because I was letting others define who I was, I believed them when they told me I was selfish, or a bad writer, or terrible at editing, or embarrassing. Along with the good came all the bad, and I took it all in and let it dictate who I was.
Within the last few months, my family suffered loss. During this time, it became clear that the way I was living, the desire to get my validation and definition from others, wasn’t sustainable. I lost a huge part of my support system as they worked through their own problems and their own grief. I was left alone.
Last year, when my anxiety and depression were at their worst, I did a lot of reading. There were a lot of self-help books in my TBR pile. If there was one thing that all of them had in common, it was that I had to depend on me.
You see, there are inherent flaws that occur when I let others determine who I am. First, I had to guess what they expected of me. Sure, they may have told me at some point in time that they needed me to do certain things or act in a certain way, but they never came right out and said, “This is who you should be.” Thus, I was guessing. I was making an assumption about what I thought they wanted.
We all know what assuming does: it makes an ass out of you and me. There’s absolutely no way I can ever know what a person truly thinks of me or what they expect of me. In addition, everyone I encountered would want or need something different.
This is an incredibly exhausting way to live. Constantly changing to meet the different wants and needs of other people left me stressed out and tired. It took a toll on my health, contributed to my anxiety and depression. It left me feeling hollow and unfulfilled.
I want to stress that there is a difference between being kind to someone and helping them out with what I was doing. I needed them to like me, otherwise I felt like I wasn’t a person. I needed to know I was loved and valuable, and I would do whatever I could to get that from others.
They can’t give that to me.
While my support system was going through their issues, I did the best I could to be there for them. I sent words of encouragement and kept my problems to myself. I was there when they needed me and did what they asked.
But I also learned something along the way. I learned how to depend on myself. I learned that no matter what the world throws at me and how tough things get, I have to be there to get myself through.
All of the self-help reading I did about having faith in myself and finding happiness within became clear. While there’s nothing wrong with being connected to others and having relationships, they shouldn’t define who I am. They aren’t the ones who validate my existence. Only I can do that.
No one else can solve my problems for me, only I can do that. No one else can tell me I matter, only I can do that.
Having this revelation was at once freeing and frightening. It had been a long time since I’d been in touch with the real me, I didn’t know who I was anymore.
To find out, I withdrew. I put up walls. I cut off contact.
I had a lot to learn about what was going on in my head and my heart, and I needed to be alone to do it. I’m still trying to figure things out and where I fit in the world. It’s hard. It’s scary. But it’s also freeing.
I still worry about what others think about me, but it doesn’t keep me up at night like it used to. I can let things go and don’t worry so much about looking like a fool or being selfish or bad. I’m honestly getting to the point where I don’t care. Parts of the true me are finding their way to the surface, and I like what I see.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not going out of my way to be mean or rude to others. I’m still the nice person I always was, but I don’t feel the need to make people like me. If I’m having a conversation with someone and they don’t seem interested, I don’t struggle to find a topic they might enjoy. I just let things go. If I don’t want to hang out with people, I don’t. There isn’t an unrelenting drive inside that says I have to be around people to be of value.
The road is long and there’s a lot of history to deal with. While I can’t change anything from the past, I can learn from it—and learning I am. If there’s one thing I can take from this whole thing it’s that when I finally decide who I am and who I want to be, I’m going to be amazing.
