Something I’ve been exploring in therapy is the dynamic of pleasure. And no, get your head out of the gutter despite what I’ve trained my faithful readers to think. I’m talking about being a people pleaser.

For a long time now, I’ve been a people pleaser. I diminish my self-worth to seek the validation of others. I would make every effort to make someone else happy because if they’re happy, I’m happy. That’s how happiness worked in my demented little head. I took on a caretaker role. I wanted to make sure everyone around me liked me. That was something that I thought I could control. I can control my actions and how people perceive me, and that would bring balance to my world.

It wasn’t until my devastating break-up that it made me do a full 180. I was doing everything I could to please him and make him happy and be the perfect boyfriend only to be abandoned out of nowhere. Something clicked in me. That’s when I took on the opposite philosophy of being a caretaker. I then sought after the people who would please me for once. When are people going to diminish themselves for my pleasure? When are people going to make the effort to make me happy?

From that philosophy I became hyperindependent. I am going to rely solely on myself and create my own happiness. Men are unreliable and good for nothing other than dick. I am married to my work and my art, and that’s all I’m going to stick to because that doesn’t set me up for disappointment.

But guess what? That’s apparently also not healthy! What?! So being a people pleaser is not good, but wanting other people to please me is also not good? Then what the fuck am I supposed to find pleasure in?

Hyperindependence is not the cure for codependence. Expecting other people to please me only sets me up for disappointment all the time. I gave myself a standard and wanted other people to live up to that standard and when human error gets in the way, I react accordingly. With disdain and disgust and utter contempt.

You did not do what I wanted you to do or what I thought would be common sense, and therefore you are a fucking idiot and I have no use for you.

This is not a sustainable way of creating relationships. People are not disposable as it turns out. People are meant to make mistakes and learn from them. My hyperindependent thinking has led me to believe that everyone should be on my level when it comes to connecting. I expect people to have proper communication without me explaining what that is. I need people to show up for me in relationships automatically without me doing all the work. I expect men to have already done some internal work and maturing before approaching me. If they don’t meet any of these, then my stringent and unwavering standards simply brush it off and tell them to have a good day.

Dismissiveness is not a solution to conflict. It’s a cowardly and lazy way to find resolve instead of opening up to productive conversation and curiosity. I’m learning that saying, “I’m sorry that my actions hurt you. Be well” is not a good way to solve conflict because I made the call for finality instead of giving the other person a chance to do some work. This is a hard pill for me to swallow, and I love swallowing, because I am conflict-avoidant. Not because I hate conflict, but because I see no productivity in conflict. So I keep myself aligned with people living in my echo chamber. No conflict equals maximum relational productivity.

Obviously, conflict is not ideal, but it does offer an opportunity to grow together. Conflict can be productive and navigating it is where the best relationships blossom. I’m slowly learning that I need to see conflict not as an obstacle, but as a learning opportunity. I shouldn’t be so easily dismissive of conflict, but I need to come with curiosity to see why I’m right and you were wrong.

I’m learning!