Audacity
Confessions of a recovering people-pleaser.
Asking for help.
Why is it so hard?
Sounds simple - string a few words together, articulate a need or desire, punctuate with sincere vulnerability. And boom. We wait …
Nope, not for a people pleaser.
Nah, we operate with a complex formula of anticipation, dread, and anxiety. Yay!
The anticipation of receiving an answer that doesn’t feel emotionally exposing. The dread of accommodating the other person’s response into our nervous system. The anxiety of rearranging our words and thoughts into a digestible fashion so that we are understood.
There it is.
Judgment. Because at that moment, asking for help feels like a sacred exposition. I'm trusting you.
And, I’m not talking about asking someone to help move furniture, lift the other side of the table, or paint your room. Those are favors. Jolly favors.
I am talking about asking for help.
Help for the kind of destruction that burns down the framework of happiness and wellbeing. Oof, yes, I went there. A deeply needed restoration, transforming the ashes of trauma and magically reviving them into wood beams again. And yes, I say magically because that is how it feels to navigate the wanderings and illusions of mental landscapes.
The mind operates in a beautiful dance of organized chaos. Things-and-thoughts appear, disappear, reappear, destroy themselves, trespass one another, and contradict each other, but they still find ways to maneuver and coexist with awareness and respect for one another.
The mind is beautiful, but even the prettiest landscapes grow weeds. Sometimes, the chaos is more than one can manage in solitude.
And it’s such a good thing that Help is accustomed to severe circumstances.
Severity requires more than a passive observer who steals a silent glance of the damages through the window of a home. Help requests a provocative invitation into the heart of the home. It demands a willing journey to the root of the problem, including every adjacent hallway of tender information.
It’s easy to convince ourselves that the burden of our own deficiencies feels too heavy to carry. Soooo why would we impose on someone’s else’s strength to do it for us?
How inconsiderate and rude.
Maybe, we perceive ourselves as “missing something” or lacking - the embarrassment of revealing our distorted naturalness. How pointless and unproductive to reprimand a tree for existing naturally and growing wildly into a beautiful illustration of its gentle perseverance.
How silly.
We introduce ourselves to the world with digestible appearances and emotionally sturdy structures. How delicate it feels to share the unfinished or tarnished spaces of our home. But how silly to avoid asking for help when the severity of the consequences are larger than asking for a favor. Why are you so scared?
I honestly wish I had the audacity that fear does.
Fear has the audacity to irrationally self-prophesize the worst outcome from the unknown. It turns senseless assumptions into outstanding truths. It’s a weak form of self preservation that robs you of the ability to create something new. I'm comfortable, thank you.
And I get it.
Because if the remaining pieces disintegrate, how do you keep going with nothing left?
And I get it. It’s terrifying. If I’m asking for your help, you better not destroy the last of me! It’s an all hands on deck effort to make sure the foundation doesn't fully shatter.
Fear likes to talk big, but it’s fragile. Tough on the outside, empty on the inside. The thing to remember is that fear just lacks knowledge. It doesn’t understand, so it assumes. Bless its heart. It’s like seeing the shadow of a monster on the wall and convincing yourself that the demons are out to get you. But what if you find out that the monster shadow is actually a distorted projection of a cute tiny puppy? Lol. Yeah, same.
They say the opposite of fear is love, but I think the opposite of fear is understanding. To be loved is powerful, but to be understood is a deeper intimacy. When you have felt misunderstood or not “seen” most of your life, understanding feels like graduating from a side hug with a pat on the shoulder to a full embrace of safety and reassurance.
Intimacy. You see me. What a relief.
You understand me, and I don’t have to exhaust any efforts towards defending my shape. I don’t have to accommodate your lack of knowing me. I don’t have to prepare myself for disappointment. The intimacy of our connection doesn’t sputter at your ignorance.
Quite plainly, the expense of misunderstanding is heartbreak. And not a shallow heartbreak.
In the effort of self-preservation and perseverance, I've told myself that misunderstanding is a weightless casualty to my experience of feeling loved. But that’s the thing, misunderstanding has a way of appearing nonchalant, like a gentle cascade of leaves on the sidewalk. But it’s not. It’s quite literally like popping someone’s balloon. It’s loud, and annoying, and deflating. It’s just a balloon. I’ll get over it. Sigh </3
As a recovering people pleaser, there is a peaceful feeling of relief and appreciation for the people who understand me.
It is so profound. And it is so healing. There is so much safety and peace that they (what’s the opposite of a narcissist?) provide. Which, honestly, is so strange as a self-identifying outgoing, people-person. Because everyone assumes that extroverts feel safe in exposing themselves in all circumstances. It’s a part of the branding - So, why am I so particular about my safety? Outgoing Introvert? Is that a thing?
People pleasers are not designed to ask for help, let alone putting themselves first. Again, I don't mean asking for favors.
Favors are easy to ask for. You don’t lose much, and it doesn’t require revealing your deficiencies or excavating your mental pathways. There is no need to meet yourself so deeply. A favor is fun and connective, and it conveniently provides a dangerous alternative to Help. It champions “avoiding” the true exchange of burdens. It’s exactly like drinking juice to avoid drinking water, even though water is the only thing that will actually quench thirst. Grow up.
There’s a long term effect of prioritizing everyone else, extinguishing every fire but your own. Whelp, it’s all burned to hell anyways, so I’ll get to that later. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid. For as long as possible.
If you are deceived by the distorted shadows of your mental infrastructure, then of course it’s easy to create an escape, dare I say an excuse, to be the shoulder for others. You don’t have to face your demons because
YOU.
ARE.
BUSY.
being a good person to someone else. duh.
And it’s justified because being the shoulder for everyone else is admirable.
Please, don't get me wrong, it IS admirable. Service is beautiful. This is not a commentary on how putting others before yourself is bad. But overdosing on service can be self destructive. I think it begs the question: are you truly serving others if your cup is empty?
Appreciation is addicting for a people pleaser. Because appreciation is the cousin to understanding. If I can’t be understood, then I can be appreciated! It’s a hard addiction to break. Trust me, I know. Especially if you are known for being such an agreeable, compliant, and cheerful yes-man. And everyone validates you for it.
Validation. Ahh. A momentary high that burns out just as quickly as it comes.
As a recovering yes-man, I can confidently say that combating these symptoms requires the
utter
audacity
to love yourself.
Louder for the people in the back.
Because creating safety for yourself (boundaries, anyone?) is the root of healing. It’s the audacity to give yourself understanding and grace despite what anyone else gives you.
Don't believe me?
If you don’t learn how to hold space for yourself, if you don't learn how to love yourself, how can you teach someone else how to hold space for you? How can you teach someone else to love you if you have not mastered it?
It takes self-mastery of the inside to see self-worth mirrored back to you on the outside.
I didn’t expect to experience a deep learning curve with self-love. I thought it would be more like riding a bike, and less like building your stamina. If you don’t use it, you lose it!
But falling in love with yourself is exactly how they say in the movies “slowly, then all at once.” It’s a gentle tipping point. Subtle and patient. Like adding grains of sand to a scale - grain after grain nothing happens - until it does. The scale shifts. And you are on the other side.
Now what?