Some things are character staples. Some things define a person and some things are how you identify yourself with. I am a people pleaser. I found this out a few years back and ever since it's been this interesting dance of knowing something about yourself is flawed but also simultaneously knowing it's so deep-rooted in your anatomy that you're somehow meant to swallow it. I think that's why I never really liked therapy or self help books. There's so much information out there to tell you all the messed up complex things about you but then when you go looking for solutions to you - the problem, there really aren't any chapters on that.
I always wanted to be the teacher's pet growing up. When I made friends, I wanted their parents to love me. I felt this warm sensation whenever someone would tell me how good I was at something or how they couldn't have done something without me. Feeling needed was my lifeline. It's so ironic because I remember grappling with these feelings on here almost fifteen years ago. I just have always had this need to be liked or remembered or wanted. I've also time and time again found that no matter how much I give or sacrifice or do, the object of my people pleasing never really cared if I did it for them or not.
I like to joke that I found a job where my people pleasing makes sense. Photography and photographing people is a very special relationship where the person who is in front of your camera needs you to give them something. I love the power of controlling how someone looks and feels about themselves. It's honestly been the only form of control I've ever truly had.
Shay started working with me two years ago suddenly. It was a situation that came abruptly but ultimately I'd always dreamt of sharing my little world with him. Something I didn't take into account was how he had never met the person I was at work. I'm a character for whoever I'm working with and I do whatever I need to make the person in front of my lens happy. I also now was in a position of training someone to work with me.
Flash forward to today and my husband, the person who I've always admired for being just genuinely himself was trying to be me. I was telling him how to be more like me. Me, this unidentifiable yes man who contorts and pleases anyone and anything with no regard to herself; this shell, this pathetic sad "business owner". I honestly don't even know how to write about what's going on right now. I don't even know how to express how I was once again trying to be a martyr and save everyone from everything and in tern was willing to sacrifice my husband for it.
I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated with myself, with my stupid job, with my stupid clients and needs and wants that I've promised to people without even considering my own self. I'm frustrated with him for listening to me. I'm frustrated with people taking advantage. I'm frustrated.
Today's the last wedding of June. June was chaotic and selfish and painful and a change needs to be made. This is a open ended letter to myself to remind myself of this. To remind myself that fifteen year old me was crying wolf and no one was coming to save her. I am thirty-one years old. I am not a martyr. No one will die and think about how much "help" I was to them. I am a grown up who acts like a child.
I'm diseased.
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