It's easy to not care what people think when you don't care about those people.
Who cares what your annoying coworker thinks?
And your neighbor? You don't like her anyway.
And the mom of the kid who made your daughter cry once, yeah, she's a piece of work.
It's easy to brush past the comments, real or imagined, of people who hold no credit in our lives.
But what about the people we love?
What about the people we admire?
What about the people we've turned to in the past who have walked with us along the road of sadness and despair and who held us up when others wouldn't?
It feels almost impossible not to care about what those people think. We love them and they love us. They've changed us.
Maybe we should care . . .
At times I have felt suffocated by the pressures of doing 'the things' because I was asked to do it by people I loved and admired. I said yes to having more on my plate because I couldn't stand the pain of saying no and possibly disappointing someone I admire.
Then I felt frustrated and upset because I agreed to take on more. I thought doing that would better secure a friendship. I said yes with a smile on my face in public and cried in frustration on the way home because the burden of 'more' was already drowning me.
More
More
More
And I said yes.
I said yes because I'm a good person and that's what good people do.
I said yes because I love the people who asked.
I said yes because I thought it would open doors.
I said yes because I was too afraid to say no.
I said yes because I thought if I said no I wouldn't be seen as a team player.
I said yes because what happens when you disappoint the people you care about by saying no?
I want to say no.
I want to clear my plate of these things I committed to because I am tired.
I have a family. I have a business. I have other passions and things I want to do.
Can't they see that? Surely they must see how much I have going on . . . but maybe they don't think it's all that much.
And maybe it's not.
I respect them after all so maybe they are right.
I can take on more . . . so I do.
I paste on a smile and say yes and even before the word is out of my mouth I regret it.
Resentment is starting to grow like a shadowy monster in the corner of my mind and that is not a beast I have the energy to fight.
I want to say this is no longer for me. I am looking for an escape rout. I'm looking for any circumstance, any person, anything to place the blame on so I can say, "Oh man, I really wanted to do this but this just came up and unfortunately I just can't do this any longer."
But that would be part lie because I don't have any real excuse. They would be made-up fabrications to act as a buffer from the potential scorn the truth would get me. Because I could do this thing. I could push past my time limitations and do this.
But the boiling in my stomach, the tightening in my chest, the rolling of my eyes, and the clenching of my teeth when I think about having to keep committing over and over again to more . . . I want to scream 'Fuck NO!' and run home excuses be damned.
But here I am.
I am tired.
I feel like a hypocrite.
I am frustrated and I feel defeated all because I care about what others think of me.
So I'll do more and I'll sit in my self-inflicted sadness because I have no one to blame but myself, my lack of integrity, and my weakness in caring what others think above my own emotional state.
I don't want to be part of (redacted) anymore.
I am tired of all the pressure to do things according to a particular persons 'previous experience'.
I hate this responsibility I said I'd take on.
I hate the emails.
I hate not getting paid for work that I'd never take a job for anyway.
I'm an artist part of an artists organization and I am a glorified typewriter.
There are amazingly talented people in this group. People who have great connections and incredible amounts of knowledge and I feel so out of place next to them. In the past I tried to offer various skills but then as very kindly pushed aside and someone more talented did the work. And they did amazing! My work was subpar compared to theirs.
But I am left feeling out of place with talents that are unusable and that don't fit.
The best I can offer these people is note taking . . . but I hate it.
My time and recourses and skills are limited.
Now I just feel resentful and frustrated that I only have myself to blame for being in this position.
And you know what, if I was honest and said I didn't want to do this anymore and any of those people called and kindly asked me to reconsider I absolutely would.
I could buckle like a paper cup.
Why can't I be honest and just say no?
I think I care too much about what others think of me and because of that I am locked in a prison of my own making.
I smile through the bars and say all is well as I shiver from the cold, empty weight of taking on more tasks. But at least they smile at me and say thank you as the cell door slams closed and for a few seconds that is enough to keep me locked in place.
• • •
I wrote this back in the beginning of 2024. Being so overwhelmed one evening, I stood at my computer and vented my worries and frustrations to my poor keyboard.
I was struggling.
I've always thought of myself as a high-agency woman. Someone who will make the right choice no matter outside influences. Realizing this was not the case for me threw me into a spiral. Despite all the frustration and resentment, I didn't make any changes.
Would you believe I stayed in this situation for several more months?
As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I did.
I was the director of my own pain because I refused to have a conversation.
Thankfully, I realized I would rather face the discomfort of a phone call than continue living how I was.
Wanna guess how dreadful that conversation was? Or would you like to guess at what the reproductions were and how badly they damaged my business?
Zero.
The conversation was zero percent dreadful. And nothing has damaged my business.
Turns out I was making up the worst possible outcome. Because my imagination is so fantastic I was able to keep myself in a difficult situation just by creating an awful story that never even came close to happening.
Sometimes we create the worst situations in our lives. And sometimes what we create isn't even real but a figment of our imagination.
If I could give future me some advice (because I am not so wise as to believe I won't face something like this again) or maybe even some advice for you, dear reader, its to stop borrowing trouble.
Stop assuming the worst of others and the worst outcome for yourself.
Stop delaying the discomfort of conversations that you know you should be having.
Start doing the things you are avoiding.
And start imagining something better.
If you're gonna make up a story, might as well make it a pleasant one.
Oh! Perhaps you are wondering how I am now and how those relationships are.
I am doing so well. I feel like I have parts of me back that I had to give up in my service to imagined servitude. And they came back fast. My mind is clearer. I don't have that pit of dread heating up in my stomach. And I feel in control.
Those relationships are lovely. All interactions have been supportive and kind and uplifting.
All in all, life is better since I started holding myself responsible for my own discomfort.
Love,
Melinda
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