Do what your momma taught you, just say NO!
"What do you mean this isn't about me? OF COURSE IT'S ABOUT ME! Just tell me what I can do better, say better, look better, TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME."
Last year during yoga training one of the sessions focused on saying "no" and learning to respect your own space, learning to respect your own time. If someone asks you to do something and you don't want to the first reaction is usually to lie to spare the other persons feelings. The tendency is to make up a story vs just telling the truth - "sorry, tonight is my time and I cannot make it." I glanced around the room, everyone looked totally unfazed. I raised my hand, "umm, I definitely take it personally when people don't want to hang out with me, don't return my call, don't text me back." "Why?", "Because WHY WOULDN'T THEY?! They'd rather be alone than hang out? I don't get it." I realized in that moment I didn't get it because I was never alone. I always said yes, yes to things I didn't really want to do, yes to people I didn't really care about, yes to anything so I didn't end up sitting at home alone.
I did okay during the day. In the daytime everything was safe and easy. I could run errands, clean the house, make food. I could do all of the adult things, all of the responsible things....I could do all of the things that made it appear as if I had it all together. But then the sun would start to go down and the dark cloud of anguish would rise up. I would try and fight it - lay on the couch, put on a movie, have a glass of wine. Some nights a combination of the aforementioned worked. But then other times I would sit there, my brain wide open, my thoughts swirling, I would go swimming in my own sadness and right upon the point of drowning - I CANNOT BE ALONE and out I'd go. I'd play a variety of roles to avoid playing out my own reality - the funny girl, the party girl, the yoga girl, the smart girl, the stupid girl. Smile and nod and know that eventually it will be over and tomorrow will be a new day. It was like groundhog's day for the despondent. I was the unhappiest happy person.
A close friend of mine refused to tell me where he lived the first 6 months of our friendship. I think it was nearly a year in before I was invited over. He was fiercely protective over his home - his space. He didn't want people to visit or know where it was. I told him on numerous occasions this was "weird" and "bizarre" and he needed to "get a grip on reality" (because of course I was an expert on this). I pushed him hard - with each move, needing to see where he lived. I partially think I pushed so hard because he was so adamant against it. I think he was so adamant against it because I pushed so hard. To this day, he's very specific about who he allows into his home.
One of my best friends reserves Sunday nights as her time. She sees no one, makes no plans, and turns down all invitations. If she's going through something in her life she prefers to deal with it alone until she has a game plan set as to how she will go forward - whereas I tend to invite everyone with a voice to weigh in. I never understood why she was so private, so reserved with her time, her problems...her everything. "Just come ouuuuut! It's fine! There's always tommorrow!" Her glaring eyes telling me she wasn't interested in my hard sell tactics.
My house in Dallas had the same furniture that I bought when I moved there. Countless bodies had sat on it. Countless people had moved in and out of the front door. There were parties and dates and my ex - so many stories, so many memories. Each person walking in bringing their own shit with them, that shit staying long after they exited. If it was positive, fantastic. If it was negative - it lingered, it stayed, it weighed me down. I felt it. Theirs. Mine. All of it. After awhile I ceased being able to decipher the positive from the negative.
Today I can count on two hands the number of people who have been in my apt. My bed is all mine (with the exception of my mother and best friend who got to enjoy it's king size pillow top glory). This home is the one that is most indicative of who I am, I love it. I'm so proud of it. Which is precisely why I invite no one over. WAIT, WHAT?! Most nights I go to yoga, I come home and put on music and cook (culinary school was a close second to fashion school). I watch a movie, or read a book, or write in this blog. I've spent more time alone the past 6 months than I have the past...oh....long time. It turns out flailing about in the despondent ocean is not nearly as enjoyable as sitting on the shore.
I've always been accused of being sensitive and of taking things personally. If it's about me then I can fix it, make it better, make it perfect. If it's about me then I can control it. Nearly one year after that impactful yoga session I've finally learned to respect my own time and in the process I've learned to respect others. Sure there are still times where I will urge someone on - JUST COME OUUUUT, IT'LL BE FUUUN. But I try and catch myself, I try and realize that they are saying no because it's what they need, it isn't about what I want. So to my friend - you know who you are - who refused to show me his house, I get it now. I understand and I apologize. To my friend who processes things in her own way, in "her time" - I'm here if you need me.
These days the role I play is of the girl who is still trying to figure out what in the hell she's doing, but is comfortable in the unknown. I don't know what happens next, but I'm okay with that. Some days it all feels so easy and other days it seems much harder. I don't always feel happy but I'm no longer the unhappiest happy person. I used to be surrounded by people and felt all alone. Now I'm alone, but no longer lonely....
"Do you want to hang out tonight?"
-No.
-Nope.
-NO.
Damn. That felt good.
Last year during yoga training one of the sessions focused on saying "no" and learning to respect your own space, learning to respect your own time. If someone asks you to do something and you don't want to the first reaction is usually to lie to spare the other persons feelings. The tendency is to make up a story vs just telling the truth - "sorry, tonight is my time and I cannot make it." I glanced around the room, everyone looked totally unfazed. I raised my hand, "umm, I definitely take it personally when people don't want to hang out with me, don't return my call, don't text me back." "Why?", "Because WHY WOULDN'T THEY?! They'd rather be alone than hang out? I don't get it." I realized in that moment I didn't get it because I was never alone. I always said yes, yes to things I didn't really want to do, yes to people I didn't really care about, yes to anything so I didn't end up sitting at home alone.
I did okay during the day. In the daytime everything was safe and easy. I could run errands, clean the house, make food. I could do all of the adult things, all of the responsible things....I could do all of the things that made it appear as if I had it all together. But then the sun would start to go down and the dark cloud of anguish would rise up. I would try and fight it - lay on the couch, put on a movie, have a glass of wine. Some nights a combination of the aforementioned worked. But then other times I would sit there, my brain wide open, my thoughts swirling, I would go swimming in my own sadness and right upon the point of drowning - I CANNOT BE ALONE and out I'd go. I'd play a variety of roles to avoid playing out my own reality - the funny girl, the party girl, the yoga girl, the smart girl, the stupid girl. Smile and nod and know that eventually it will be over and tomorrow will be a new day. It was like groundhog's day for the despondent. I was the unhappiest happy person.
A close friend of mine refused to tell me where he lived the first 6 months of our friendship. I think it was nearly a year in before I was invited over. He was fiercely protective over his home - his space. He didn't want people to visit or know where it was. I told him on numerous occasions this was "weird" and "bizarre" and he needed to "get a grip on reality" (because of course I was an expert on this). I pushed him hard - with each move, needing to see where he lived. I partially think I pushed so hard because he was so adamant against it. I think he was so adamant against it because I pushed so hard. To this day, he's very specific about who he allows into his home.
One of my best friends reserves Sunday nights as her time. She sees no one, makes no plans, and turns down all invitations. If she's going through something in her life she prefers to deal with it alone until she has a game plan set as to how she will go forward - whereas I tend to invite everyone with a voice to weigh in. I never understood why she was so private, so reserved with her time, her problems...her everything. "Just come ouuuuut! It's fine! There's always tommorrow!" Her glaring eyes telling me she wasn't interested in my hard sell tactics.
My house in Dallas had the same furniture that I bought when I moved there. Countless bodies had sat on it. Countless people had moved in and out of the front door. There were parties and dates and my ex - so many stories, so many memories. Each person walking in bringing their own shit with them, that shit staying long after they exited. If it was positive, fantastic. If it was negative - it lingered, it stayed, it weighed me down. I felt it. Theirs. Mine. All of it. After awhile I ceased being able to decipher the positive from the negative.
Today I can count on two hands the number of people who have been in my apt. My bed is all mine (with the exception of my mother and best friend who got to enjoy it's king size pillow top glory). This home is the one that is most indicative of who I am, I love it. I'm so proud of it. Which is precisely why I invite no one over. WAIT, WHAT?! Most nights I go to yoga, I come home and put on music and cook (culinary school was a close second to fashion school). I watch a movie, or read a book, or write in this blog. I've spent more time alone the past 6 months than I have the past...oh....long time. It turns out flailing about in the despondent ocean is not nearly as enjoyable as sitting on the shore.
I've always been accused of being sensitive and of taking things personally. If it's about me then I can fix it, make it better, make it perfect. If it's about me then I can control it. Nearly one year after that impactful yoga session I've finally learned to respect my own time and in the process I've learned to respect others. Sure there are still times where I will urge someone on - JUST COME OUUUUT, IT'LL BE FUUUN. But I try and catch myself, I try and realize that they are saying no because it's what they need, it isn't about what I want. So to my friend - you know who you are - who refused to show me his house, I get it now. I understand and I apologize. To my friend who processes things in her own way, in "her time" - I'm here if you need me.
These days the role I play is of the girl who is still trying to figure out what in the hell she's doing, but is comfortable in the unknown. I don't know what happens next, but I'm okay with that. Some days it all feels so easy and other days it seems much harder. I don't always feel happy but I'm no longer the unhappiest happy person. I used to be surrounded by people and felt all alone. Now I'm alone, but no longer lonely....
"Do you want to hang out tonight?"
-No.
-Nope.
-NO.
Damn. That felt good.