"One of my biggest mistakes in life”
"One of my biggest mistakes in life is thinking people will show me the same love that I've shown them " - Heath Ledger
When I was twelve years old, I entered and won a writing contest for the metro area newspaper.
My winning entry was “What is the one thing necessary for contentment?”
I find it quite humorous to get that insight from a twelve- year- old, but, regardless, I spewed forth my wisdom.
“The one thing that is necessary for contentment is being happy with yourself first and then with others.”
Yeah. I know.
I expounded further wisdom, repeating clichés like, turning my frown upside down, ending self- pity and thinking happy. In addition to those concepts, I was also heavily influenced by the “truth” that if you are nice to someone, they will be nice to you in return.
Uh-huh.
But, I guess, the cynic was still in training.
Perhaps, “cynic” is the wrong word to use here. Maybe “realist” is a better choice of words.
Ah, yes, being realistic! How it can burst the fairytale bubbles we blow in our lives.
But burst we must. People pleasers, like yours truly here, do not enjoy hearing and heeding that approach. We want to just keep working on our own personal world domination plans of getting everyone and their pet ferret to like us, to love us, to approve of us, telling us what our value is.
So, what could possibly go wrong there?
Years later, I’d like to think that I have significantly evolved from this childhood essay. I’d like to think I have a handle on the people pleasing, on the seeking and dependency on external validation. I’d like to think I have the rock- solid self-esteem, unshakable and constant.
(I hear you smirking, by the way).
Yeah, I know. It is just not that simple or that easy.
To paraphrase Ledger’s quote, we ask the following question, constantly, of ourselves…
“Why won’t people show me the same love that I've shown them?”
I have been learning, even with my inner twelve-year-old protesting at the education, that the answers go a little more like this instead.
They Don’t Like You.
Oh, man! The people pleasing, codependent individuals that we are REALLY hate that!
Many of us believe and tightly grip the assertion that each person will like us and be as committed to seeking, developing, and maintaining a relationship with us as we work to accomplish those things with them.
And it doesn’t work that way.
No matter how hard we try to make it so, no matter how much we exhaust ourselves by being and doing what another person finds pleasing, it does not work.
Some people just don’t like us. And nothing can change that. Perhaps, it’s like being Lactose intolerant or hating peanut butter. For some people, it is just a gigantic NO in response to us.
And that’s okay.
We, as people pleasers don’t believe that’s acceptable, but acceptance of this reality is critical.
Last year, I came across a beautiful sentiment:
“Make room for the people who want to love you.”
For each person who says “nope” to us, there is a person, several people, in fact, who DO want to like us, love us, accept us, go bowling with us, etcetera. We need to focus on connecting with those people and leave the “nopers” to their decision about us.
Live and let live, like or dislike.
They Don’t Love You.
How’s that for feeling warm and fuzzy?
In “The Prophecy,” a 1995 film, starring Christopher Walken, one of its characters, Satan Himself, uttered to another character, “I don’t love you.” He was trying to show how mercy, understanding, and love were not innate in him for any person.
And sometimes, that is just how it goes with certain individuals relating to us.
Hard and cold. They don’t love us.
That lack of love can display itself in a myriad of ways: hostility, envy, resentment, neglect, screaming, verbal, emotional, physical, sexual, spiritual, and financial abuse. Sometimes, it is an intentional, all-out hit on us. Sometimes, it is thoughtlessness.
Whatever the case may be, a lot of us people pleasers and codependents seem to prioritize, expect, strive for, and believe that love from a person, any person, exists for us, somehow, some way. We just need to do whatever it takes to tap into it. We can assume all the responsibility and burden for being loved, while refusing to accept another person’s free will decision to choose NOT to love us.
Perhaps, because many of us find it inconceivable to be unloving, we project that onto others. And some people are quite hunky- dory about not being loving to us, or to anyone else, for that matter.
I know. We, who are big balls of fuzzy, gooey unicorn love cannot accept or understand that perspective. Why would anyone choose not to love? Why would anyone choose to do that?
Answer: because some people do.
For reasons that are and are not valid.
And, quite frankly, those reasons are none of our business.
Stings, doesn’t it?
And again, while we’re all stung from that reality, let’s examine this next perspective in the love/expectation department.
They Don’t Think About You.
Inconsideration, a lack of loyalty, and carelessness can all run rampant when we encounter other individuals’ reactions to us. Sometimes, we are nowhere to be found in their thoughts.
Years ago, when a family member died, no one contacted me; no one thought to contact me. Why not? I don’t know. But it hurt and angered me.
No common courtesy?
No basic respect?
No love for me, a fellow family member who lost a blood relative?
Nope. At least, there wasn’t strong enough evidence to support those concepts.
And again, I’ll never know the why behind it all. Despite my efforts to communicate, it was not reciprocated.
And sometimes, that is just how it goes.
You and I are just not on their minds. Period.
And it hurts. It’s not fair, It’s not humane, perhaps. It doesn’t feel like the decent thing to do. We wouldn’t do such a thing, we assert.
But different people make different decisions. Sometimes, they are thoughtless. Sometimes, someone else deems us as not worthy of their thought.
Regardless, our inherent value does not change. And yes, we are worthy of good, loving, caring treatment.
That doesn’t mean we will always get it.
It’s Not Personal (But it FEELS Personal).
“It’s Not Personal.” We have all heard that phrase. Sometimes the wound and the slight are unintentional.
Intention may be one thing; impact is quite a different matter though, isn’t it?
There is a theory which states that the opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.
And maybe that goes hand in hand with the impersonal.
Let’s face it, fellow codependent, fellow people pleaser, fellow lovey unicorn: things people can often have a much greater, stronger meaning to us than they do concerning us. We can sink a much larger investment into someone when, the entire time, that individual could take or leave us.
They may be under the belief we are just acquaintances. They may choose to not like and respect us even as we have declared our eternal devotion, mowed their lawns, shelled out money, doodled their names with heart symbols in our journals and notepads. We make things personal while the other party doesn’t.
And that other party is perfectly okay with that impersonal touch. They sleep well at night; they don’t include us in their prayers. They don’t have us register as important in our lives.
And that is completely within their free will right to do so. No permission is required. Does that make it feel right? Or fair? Or loving?
No.
But it’s there. An while it is there, WE are still loveable, valuable, wonderful people who deserve good treatment in life.
Nothing can change that. Don’t believe the lie that someone else’s thoughts- or lack thereof- can change our worth.
Reciprocity: Balancing the Scales:
As with most things in life, it comes down to energy. What is invested and spent? On what? On whom?
It’s like continuing with a bad stock that provides diminishing returns. Would you consider that a good investment? Would you keep sinking everything you have in your life, into that stock?
Or would you reconsider and find another stock more suitable to meeting your wants, needs, and expectations?
Reciprocity is a reasonable relationship dynamic. It’s not about keeping score. It is about the evident reality of give and take. Family. Spouses. Life partners. Friends. Co-workers. People that we encounter in this human existence have the ability and the choice to reflect reciprocity. And, if they show themselves to be unable or unwilling to do that for you and me, that informs us with everything we really need to know to lead the life we deserve.
Dare I say it, reciprocity, in my opinion, should be a deal breaker.
We cannot control how others treat us. However, we can control how we treat ourselves.
Let’s stop making the mistake to have that continue to be shabby treatment. We are worth much more than that.
We can generate our own self-respect and self-love. Let’s choose to nurture and feed ourselves, beyond any one person, no matter how important we deem them to be.
We are important enough in our own right!
Copyright © 2024 by Sheryle Cruse
Mosaic of Beauty
“May all your broken pieces which feel so scattered now be reassembled into a mosaic of beauty. May your healing reveal the art of who you really are.”
John Mark Green
Picasso isn’t for everyone.
Some of us see a monstrosity; some of us only see an elbow sticking out of an ear.
Some of us see his work as art at its finest.
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Extraordinary things can arise from the ashes.
They say all of that. But is all of that truly true?
Pain is beautiful.
No one gets out of this life unscathed. And, generally speaking, no one really enjoys pain. But pain is inevitable. It reoccurs, wearing many different faces. It can be abuse, trauma, death, loss, divorce, failure, and change, just to name a few of its manifestations.
Now, I’m not talking about having an unhealthy dependency on dysfunction. We should seek to get help in mind, body, and spirit. Therapy, learning healthier coping tactics, and accepting ourselves unconditionally should be employed, but not at the expense of denying how much the pain, whatever pain it was, has affected and shaped us.
Nope, we are not “all better” lickety split. We are bleeding and scarred, sometimes lifelong. And we can often view that as moral failure and a defect in our character.
It is not.
It is pain. And pain is difficult, excruciating… and beautiful BECAUSE we have survived the pain. We got out. We made changes. We simply kept breathing.
Pain often gets associated with ugliness because it assumes the worst- case scenario will be the only, final word for us.
But there is beauty from the ashes. There is.
Think about how you have blossomed, and, if you are struggling to see that in yourself, please remember the Lotus Flower. It blooms in the mud. The incredible, delicate, commanding creation blooms in spite of. The flower is not supported by a loving gardener, in a tranquil rose garden. It is not spoken lovingly to by that gardener, affirming it of its inherent beauty and worth. Its beauty is non-negotiable, and flourishes in muddiness, in dirtiness, in filth.
How many of us have grown in mud?
How many of us have felt nothing but dirty our entire lives?
You are not filth. You’re a Lotus Flower.
And your pain can be transmuted into healing, first, for yourself, then for others who believe they are alone in their suffering.
There is a reason you painfully bloomed. There is a reason.
Mistakes (sins) are beautiful.
This one makes us all squirmy, doesn’t it? Especially for us “people of faith” out there. We are shamed for sins and imperfections, repeatedly told how we are nothing but wrong, hopeless, and unacceptable. Love, forgiveness, mercy, and grace seem to be in short supply, sometimes, nonexistent.
I suppose sin is ugly for the pain and the harm it inflicts. And, whether or not you and I view sins and mistakes as one and the same, there seems to be such emphasis in the sin or the mistake as being an inevitable, irrevocable, punishing death sentence. We can absorb lies that tell us we are forever bad, forever ruined, forever wrong, and forever shameful.
We are human beings. We make mistakes. We sin. And while we’re doing all that, we still have value. We do not need to forfeit love and redemption, because we’ve “gone too far.”
No one avoids doing things that are wrong, pathetic, shame-inducing, of poor judgment; no one avoids doing things that are hurtful to others.
Just because we have wound up “there” (in the place of whatever debauchery or evil we think is just too damning to recover from), doesn’t mean we will stay there our entire lives.
All things are subject to change. That includes you and me. Our shortcomings have devastated and changed us. But we are more than any one mistake or sin.
We are the whole mosaic, not just a colorful piece that appears to only look awful.
There is more. We are more.
Growth is beautiful.
Anyone who has ever tried to grow out their hair knows all about the struggle of the awkward stages. Whether we grow out the entire mophead we’re wearing, or simply intend to rid ourselves of our fringy bangs, so we can see our naked foreheads again, these awkward growth stages can appear ugly to us. We can grapple with a no man’s land of being neither here nor there. We don’t quite have short hair; we don’t quite have long hair. Gone are the obvious tidy bangs; but they don’t steer clear of our foreheads completely, often flapping annoyingly against our faces, like the wings of a rabid bat.
(And don’t get me started on trying to wear a ponytail).
Growth is beautiful. But there is a major difference between that assertion and the feelings which are attached to the process. That often feels ugly, painful, difficult. We can often associate beauty with ease. Therefore, we can believe that if something is not easy, it is not beautiful.
We can view the struggle as negating. Beauty is not solely about joy, giddiness, and effortlessness. We do ourselves a disservice if we believe that premise.
If we see the struggle, the hard work, and the tenacity, instead, as the true beauty, regardless of what it looks like, we can take stock in how far we have come, even if it doesn’t look like a beautiful, promised land destination.
We are getting there, nonetheless.
The getting there, not the arrival, is the thing of beauty.
And, since we are not finished human beings, we are constantly beautiful. That is the ongoing mosaic.
(With or without bangs).
Acceptance is beautiful.
I am 5 foot, 4 inches tall. I will not get any taller. There are no more growth spurts in my future (believe me, I checked).
With time and age, I will only shrink,
(Sigh).
I once had a dream in which I kept standing on chairs and some judge-y chair-type panel of “experts” kept telling me, “Nope, still not tall enough.”
“Not enough.”
We are driven by those two words, aren’t we?
And, when we are not, we seem to be harangued by the words’ evil twin, “Too much.”
No matter which voice is coming at us, it pummels us with how we need to reject, not accept, ourselves.
We do it in big and small ways. We do it, perhaps, because we want beauty in our lives. We want to possess it, control it, activate it, and believe it will always be there. We don’t want to be abandoned by it.
We seem to attach so much power to the enough of beauty. It represents perfection, doesn’t it? And, often, this elusive beauty guarantees that we will finally be worth accepting.
Unless and until, however, that happens, we are obligated to reject ourselves.
After all, how dare we believe we are enough when we look at our lives, and only see the ugliness of shortcomings, failures, and what we deem to be personal ugliness?
What is screaming or whispering to you that you need to reject yourself?
What is preventing you from accepting yourself RIGHT NOW?
A body size? A skin color? A physical characteristic? An income? A relationship status? An achievement? A fear?
I will not be a tall woman. I will not be statuesque, unless, of course, it’s a short statue.
Over the course of my life, thus far, I have learned it’s not important in the grand scheme of things. I have almost lost my life a few times to bring that point home. Eating disorders and breast cancer were some attention getting lessons that taught me I need to appreciate my “vertically challenged,” breastless, imperfect, vulnerable, sometimes irritating, and frustrating self, while I still have the breath to do it.
And I still have the breath to do it.
So, I am tall enough. I am enough, even when I struggle with the “too much/not enough” voices that tell me otherwise.
I accept all the flaws. I’m still breathing.
That’s powerful, because many people are not.
I’m still here, and if I’m too short to reach something, I’ll stand on a chair.
Putting the Puzzle Together: Mosaic…Masterpiece… Me:
How about you?
Want to accept yourself, as is, right now?
Want to embrace your mosaic?
The flaws, the “too much/not enough” of your experience, and the learning of your enough-ness, however long it takes to learn, are all beautiful artistic mosaics, as a most important creation.
“May all your broken pieces which feel so scattered now be reassembled into a mosaic of beauty. May your healing reveal the art of who you really are.”
John Mark Green
Thank you, Mr. Green. I pray your words for ALL of us!
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse