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~ When life doesn't turn out as you had hope it would – It may not be 100% factual truth-but, it is 100% me.

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Tag Archives: Fear

An Unholy Confession

06 Sunday May 2018

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Courage, Emotions, Fear, Imagination, Journey, Just Something I Wanted to Write, life, Life Lessons, Memories, Memory, Relationships, Religion, Shame, Stories, Writing

She knelt down at the bench that was drenched with the tears and prayers of all those who had come before her. This was a seat that was not meant for resting, but for wrestling. Sinners came to this bench to confess, to plead, to repent and to rise in salvation.

The black shoes she had been wearing restricted her from attaching herself to the bench in the manner she thought necessary to get close to God, and as she twisted-around to remove them, her black uniform skirt got caught on the sleeve of her tunic, revealing more of her regulation nightshade pantyhose than modesty would approve.

She did not know that he was watching her.

He was always watching.

She went about her business, preaching and teaching the word of God, leading the people in praise and worship of the creator she loved so very much. She was just doing what she had been called to do, the best way she could.

In her twenty-one years of life she believed she had a firm grasp on the world, and was wise and mature to its ways.

When he came to her and confessed his love, she found herself spinning and dizzy, unable to find her bearings and questioning what she had believed to be the safest place.

“My wife knows about you,” he confessed. She felt sick to her stomach and wanted to turn from him and run. Unable to speak, he continued, “I’ve been talking to my therapist about you.”

Was she, honestly, hearing him correctly? It seemed as though she had been thrust into another world, like a twisted version of what one might find beyond the wardrobe.

How could she have let this happen? What had she done to lead him on?

She stared back at him, in shock and disbelief and noticed for the first time how many wrinkles his face held and the glisten of his silvery white hair.

He was in his 50’s and had kind, but lost, eyes. She had always appreciated his gentleness, but now she felt like he was a predator. He was no longer a sheep, but a wolf in sheeps clothing.

“I love you,” he made his confession plainly.

She tugged at her white blouse nervously, suddenly feeling naked and exposed. In her mind she was pleading with him to stop looking at her. She felt undressed by his stare.

“What am I going to do?” he asked.

She said nothing. Frozen to the ground, unable to move, the world rang in her ears and she remembered what it felt like to want to disappear.

She never wanted to be seen by a man again.

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To Realize this Dream – I Need the Power of the Force

04 Friday May 2018

Posted by Heather Irwin in Seeking Life Now

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Dream, Fear, goal, Journals, Just Do It, life, Nostalgia, Shame, Writing

I lost something somewhere along the way. Was it when I left the realm of the religious and spiritual? Was it when I had my son? Was it long before then when I had moved to a foreign country to be with a man I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be with?

When did I lose the ability to be still? To sit quietly, contemplating, or not, but being still, restful and at peace?

Sitting still now hurts my head. It is laborious and requires effort and discipline. I have to convince myself that it is a worthwhile endeavor and that it is producing something positive; that it is not just a waste of time.

I also used to write; I wrote almost every day between 1994-2013. I have a large stack of journals leaning-against our lounge wall reminding me of how I used to pour my life into words on a page. This was a religious act to me, just as prayer once was. It was part of my communion and communication. When I no longer believed that there was anyone out there with whom to communicate, I stopped writing.

I didn’t realize that I had been communing and communicating with myself all-along and that it was this relationship that had been lost.

I am on a mission to seek that which was lost – to find, once again, that communion with myself. I am also taking a terrifying journey to and through the past as I traverse my old journals, typing-up entries and key moments of my life. As I have begun organizing the journals chronologically, I have already experienced intense feelings of shame, embarrassment, anger, disappointment and fear.

I used to think that I was so mature – so wise and worldly. When in truth, I was such a child, and so naïve. It is going to be a taxing journey, but a worthy one. Who is this person from my past? More accurately, who are these people? The little girl, the young girl, the teenager, the early adult, the woman contemplating marrying a man she wasn’t sure she loved, the mother-to-be. Who is she?

I am determined to reconnect, at least, to the writer and the dreamer in her. To dream and to write again and to, finally, begin the task of chronicling and connecting stories into a piece of work that can be published.

I want to be a writer more than anything. It will never happen if I am not putting-in the work required to get me there.

So, mark this date on your calendar, the day I set-out to bring my life, my experiences, my thoughts, my relationships, my embarrassments and heartaches into a story in ink and on paper.

May the 4th be with me.

post-note: Though I have come to loathe this day and all the Star Wars posts, comments, jokes, memes, etc., I could not ignore the fact that this is the day in which I made some bold steps towards realizing this long-time dream of mine, and I need the power of the force behind me on this one.

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The Decision to Move

22 Thursday Jun 2017

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Cancer, change, Changes, Choices, Courage, Family, Fear, Home, Hopes, Journey, life, Life Lessons, Loss, Love, Mourning, Moving, Pain, Reality, Reflections, Sepsis, Toronto, Truth

When my Mom phoned to let me know she had called an ambulance to bring my stepdad to the hospital, it was as if the world around me grew still, despite the fact that I was standing in the middle of a bustling Nathan Phillip’s Square in downtown Toronto at the very first Winter Festival being held there.

My husband, child and in-laws kept walking and I could see them pointing towards the ice skaters and, more excitedly, towards the Zamboni. But, my heart had sunk to my shoes and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

I didn’t want to spoil their moment, but I was feeling desperate. I just wanted to get away and be somewhere I could have a good cry. But, I didn’t want to scare my son.

I hung-up with my Mother and eventually rejoined my family. I explained what was going on to my husband while his parents entertained the kid. My gut instinct was to get in a plane and go be with my parents. However, this was very much complicated by the fact that our in-laws had flown all the way from New Zealand to be with us, we didn’t have any other vacation days (so I’d have to take a pay-loss), we were broke so I would have to borrow the money to go as it was, I and I have a 3-year old that I had to consider.

My husband calmed me and told me to just wait to hear some more news about what was going-on before I panicked too much.

It wasn’t until recently, when we moved-back to be with my parents, that I learned just how dire the situation was and just how terrified my parents had been. These are difficult things to convey over text or phone calls, I suppose.

When talking to my Mom in that week and a half, I was trying to discern from what she said and how she sounded whether, or not, they really needed me there.

After getting off the phone with her one evening I broke-down. When my husband came to see what was happening I sobbed “I hate feeling like I am waiting to get that nightmare call that we had better come now or it will be too late…”

My Stepdad had gone through 11 rounds of chemo for colon cancer, and this was the year after he had been flown to Ottawa for a triple bypass. Now, he was in hospital with sepsis and my Mother had said that they were struggling to keep his organs functioning.

I knew it was serious, but did not know how serious or how scared both of my parents were going-through this. I guess that’s a compliment to how well they handled it together. Still, I hate thinking that they had to go through it alone.

Once my Stepdad was out of the hospital, I said to my husband, through more sobbing one night: “I NEVER want to be in that position again. Having to ask my Mom to let me know when it got to the ‘you need to come now because he’s dying’ stage.”

I hated being in that position. I didn’t wan to wait until it was too late. I wanted to spend time with him while there was still time to spend. I wanted my son to be able to build memories of his grandparents of playing games, laughing over dinner, sharing ice cream treats and going for car rides and not just sitting in a hospital saying ‘goodbye’.

So, we made the decision to uproot our lives, and move home.

It was a decision that required a lot of sacrifice, and there are times I still can burst into tears when something I miss about our old home strikes or when my Son asks something like: “Can we go to the tick-tock park?” (A park we used to frequent behind city hall, where the large clock on old city hall, would chime on the hour).

But, the pain and the loss we experience over leaving the city that we all dearly loved pales in comparison to the pain and the loss we would feel if we had decided to stay and, instead, forfeited the time we now get to spend with family.

You just cannot put a price on that.

People say it all the time, but until you are staring it in the face it can be tough to comprehend;

life is short.

You have to look at what really matters to you and be prepared to move heaven and earth to make it happen.

It may be very difficult at times when we are missing our beloved city, but that is grief, not regret. I will never regret choosing time with my family over our life in the city.

We never know how much more time we have together. I’m determined to make the most of it.

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I Am Enough

09 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Acceptance, Adulthood, Farming, Fear, High School, life, Loneliness, Maturity, Reflections, Tomboy

I used to be afraid of seeing people I knew from growing-up in this town. When I visited my parents, I would dive behind displays in the supermarket, or turn my head when someone I knew was nearby.There is so much in my childhood/teenage years and early adulthood that was absolutely horrible. My relationship with peers was always very tumultuous. I felt weird, odd, strange and always felt like I never really belonged or fit-in.

I seemed to skip-over the teenage years, and didn’t understand what it meant to relax and have fun. I was always on-edge and lonely. I hated high school rallies, sports games, events, etc. I couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so happy while I was so miserable. Because I didn’t understand it, it all seemed fake to me. Everyone seemed fake and I didn’t know how to relate to that.

As I’ve grown-up I’ve started to have a better understanding for what happened in those years, why I was affected the way I was, and have had a better appreciation for the people who were around me at the time.

I have also grown in confidence. Being in the city has helped with this. There are far too many people in a large city for people there to be bothered judging them. Living in a place that, in comparison, is so free from judgement and harsh opinions, was liberating.

Thousands of people walked-by you every day dressed in all-manners of clothing, different levels of attractiveness, poor, rich, dirty, clean…and they were all the same; just another person you were passing on the street.

It is in the city where I began to feel confident wearing tank tops and shorts. I saw woman of all shapes and sizes just dressing to be cool and comfortable on hot summer days and didn’t hear one negative comment from any of the hundreds of people around, about how they looked and I realized – I could do that too.

I remember as a child/teen always wanting to be as “cool” as the “town kids”. The “town kids” had all the “in” name brands: Club Monaco, The Gap, Adidas and even B.U.M. Equipment. I don’t think I owned anything that was name-brand until I finally begged my mother to the point she bought me a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt for Christmas. But, my wiener dog, Gus, chewed-up the ‘U’ and my mom decided to stuff the ‘U’ with cotton and patch it with floral material. I hated it, but felt so guilty and pressured to wear it after all her work, that I did. But, I’m sure my ability to ‘fit in’ took several hits for the cause.

The “town kids” also didn’t smell like a barn when they arrived at school. I lived on a farm and did my share of barn chores (mostly shovelling poop), which meant that I always had a bit of a “barn smell” on my skin and clothing. I don’t really know if other people smelled it, I never asked, or if I was just self-conscious about it. But, it is one reason I found it difficult to get out of my comfort zone to hang-out with peers.

I also was a tomboy who never cared for, or bothered, to learn about things like doing hair, makeup, nails, plucking eyebrows, etc. It just didn’t interest me. There were so many other things to do with my time, like climbing trees, going out on the 4-wheeler, milking the cows, raking the hay and playing music.

The ironic thing about this whole period of time is that I thought that I was the one being judged harshly, but have come to understand that I was doing the judging myself. I judged my peers as being fatuous and shallow and determined that I was above that.

There were, at times, reason to feel this way. We were teenagers, after all, but I’m sure now that if I could have been outside of myself and looking at myself on occasion, I would feel the exact same way about me.

Though, I also did a lot of my “teenage stuff” before I was an actual teenager: I skipped school, got in fights, had boyfriends, fooled-around, tried beer and cigarettes, all before grade 9. During Grade 9 I did a bit more of it, and was kind of in one of the ‘cool groups’ (I even participated in a Homecoming float). But, by the end of Grade 9 I guess I just felt ‘over it all’.

I became a bit of a loner. I was just ready to get on with life. I wanted to be an adult, to be a successful writer, musician or University professor. I wanted to be full of knowledge and experience, having traveled the world and lived-through adventure upon adventure.

And here I sit, 15+ years later, having gained knowledge, experience, traveled and lived-through adventure upon adventure, and I’ve returned to this place, where it all began, changed and yet, in many ways, the same.

I still have no interest in town gossip, or want to be friends with people who think it’s ok to be mean to others and I still love to be a tomboy, spending time outside getting dirty, or doing heavy work. But, I no longer think of myself as an “outsider” or feel the need to hide behind shelves at the store if I see someone from my past.

I know now that I am a person, just like everyone else. I have things that are really fantastic about me, things that are unique and totally loveable, and I have things that are annoying about me and things that are weaknesses. And it’s ok.

It’s me.

When I was younger, I never felt like I was enough. It is still something with which I struggle. It’s a common affect of being a child that has gone-through divorce.

But, now I know better. I know that I am me. I am myself.

And I am enough.

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The Power of Being Heard

20 Wednesday Jul 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Anxiety, Be Heard, CBT, Compulsive Caring, Control, Express, Fear, Listen, Minecraft, OCD, Safety, Seek Help, Talk, Therapy, Trauma, Yoga

I have started seeing a therapist for help with anxiety and trauma and a phobia from which I have suffered since my son was born.

My last appointment was Monday and I woke-up Tuesday feeling better upon waking than I can remember feeling when waking up in years. I thought it was because I had spent the previous evening playing Minecraft with my husband and brother. And, while I still believe that the time I spent with them was definitely part of it, there must be something else going on as well, because I woke-up the same way today.

I woke-up feeling like life was before me, I was excited to embrace the new day and see what it had to offer. In fact, I rose in such high spirits today, that I got out of bed and did some yoga before getting my son up for the day.

And, as I was going through the breaths and the movements, I remembered that this is how it always used to feel. I used to enjoy waking-up, thinking about what experiences I might have today, eager to get up and move and stretch.

One of my constant complaints to my doctor for the past 2 years is that I am always waking-up feeling exhausted. I wake-up feeling like I’ve been through a war. We talked about doing a sleep study, and sleep apnea, etc. But, that never really felt right to me. My gut instinct was that this kind of issue was not the problem. It was something else.

So, what changed?

I’ve been heard. Finally, someone seems to be hearing what I’ve been trying to say for years.

I live in a state of trauma, panic, fear and uncertainty all the time.

I’ve been able to openly express the darkness that has lived deep within me; this turmoil that I pour all of my energy into suppressing so that it doesn’t affect those around me. It is a constant battle for control, for peace, for patience and it takes every fiber of my being to keep it all in-check.

No wonder I am so exhausted.

Having been able to share the things that terrify me with someone who is able to really hear what I am saying without me feeling the need to shelter or protect her has made all the difference. I have been heard. I have been able to share my burden, fully, with another person. This act, alone, has lifted some of the stress from my life that has been tearing me down.

I was in a similar situation when I was a teenager, I was depressed and really struggling, but I was terrified of how I felt and found it difficult to share the actual depths of what I was feeling because I had this need to protect my loved ones.

I thought I was expressing my concerns, I thought I was asking for help. But, when things hit rock bottom and I ended-up in hospital having overdosed on medication, all I kept hearing was ‘we didn’t know it was this bad’ and ‘why didn’t you tell us?’ and ‘why didn’t you ask for help?’

I thought I had.

I thought I had been speaking out, asking for help, trying to express how scared I was about what I was feeling. But, no one heard me.

And, for the past 2.5 years, it has been happening again. I have felt as if I have been constantly asking for help, trying to get people’s attention and expressing my concerns for how I was feeling, but never really being heard.

I am learning that, one of the reasons for this (perhaps the greatest reason) is that, because I don’t want to scare people, or cause them distress, when I express my concerns they are done in a way that is protective. This means, things can come-across as less critical than they actually are. I throw things out there and hope that someone will pick-up on my cues and say ‘hey, I think there is, actually, something really massive going on here that she’s too afraid to come right out and say’ and then they will swoop-in and rescue me.

I am working on this. I learned that in the OCD ‘world’ one compulsion that can happen is the need to protect the people around you. We often see the stereotypical wash the hands ‘x’ amounts of time, do this act ‘x’ amounts of times, have a specific pattern for getting out of the house, etc. I had no idea that ‘compulsive caring’ was, actually, a disorder.

Don’t get me wrong—I have definitely felt it was for years! It is EXHAUSTING feeling like you are ALWAYS responsible for how EVERYONE around you is feeling.

And now, there is someone who has seen this in me and understands the depths of it and how much it affects my day-to-day living and I am already starting to feel whole again – just because someone listened.

It’s so incredible to be heard, isn’t it?

.

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The Runaway

13 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Afraid, Alone, Childhood, Divorce, Fear, Happiness, Kindness, Loneliness, Marshmallows, Running Away, Sadness, Teacher, Unhappiness, Validation

*

When I was 7 or 8 I ran away from home. Not the typical I packed my suitcase and walked a little way down the street. I legitimately had run away from home.

There was a boy in my school we called ‘Chip’ and while I don’t remember a whole lot about him, or how he looked (I think he was fairly ‘boy next door’), I remember that we were very similar. We had deep, vivid imaginations and we had an entire universe of feelings/thoughts within us that we had no idea how to handle.

Chip and I decided one day that we were going to run away from it all. The problems at home, the problems at school, the constant feeling that we just didn’t fit in and seek lives better fitting our grand notions.

After school finished one day, we began our journey at the local Safeway. After all, if you are serious about running away from home, you are going to need provisions.

We were beginners at the whole running away thing, however, and perhaps, didn’t make the wisest choices of what we would need to provide adequate sustenance. We also didn’t have any money, so we shoplifted everything.

What great items, you ask, did we choose to pack to keep our nutrition up during this adventure. We started in the baking aisle because everyone knows that marshmallows are an essential item of any real runaway bag of rations. Our next stop was the cake decorating section. We picked-up two packets of candy cake toppers. I wonder if we did this because it was going to be one of our birthday’s soon and we didn’t want to completely miss-out on the festivities? At any rate, we left the store with marshmallows and candy cake toppers that read “Happy Birthday” and contained coloured balloons.

We walked for what seemed days towards ‘the edge of town’. We talked about where we would go and what we would do. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the details of that conversation now. But, I was becoming aware that my resolve in our journey seemed to be stronger than his.

Dusk was settling-in and I suggested we find a place to sleep for the night. We found a culvert that ran under the train tracks. This seemed like the perfect place to set-up camp. We made ourselves comfortable and then broke-into our rations bag. After devouring half the bag of marshmallows and all the cake toppers, we rested. Dizzy in our sugar high.

Chip said to me “what do we do now?”

I replied, “We relax and try to get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

About five minutes later, Chip says with a sigh “I’m bored. I think I’m going to go home.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. How could be abandoning our mission so soon? Where was his resolve? How could he be so gutless?

I felt blindsided.

“Are you coming?” he asked me.

“No.” I replied indignantly. “I have dreams to follow.”

And with that, he skulked out of the culvert and away from my life.

Alone, I sat inside that culvert until it was dark outside. I listened to the light trickle of some water that was running between the rocks and the sound of the world going on around me, without me.

I was starting to get cold.

I was also starting to get scared.

I was alone.

I was very, truly, all alone.

Nobody cared. Nobody would find me. This was it, I would either survive the night and become like Pippi Longstocking, or I’d die in the pursuit of freedom.

I hugged my backpack close to my chest, rested my head on the cold, metal inside of the culvert, and finally drifted off.

I was awakened by a flashing of red and blue light.

And then I heard my name being called by someone familiar, but not a family member.

It was my Grade 1 teacher.

She was an older lady who dressed a lot in purple and would chew gum wildly in her mouth while making the most amazing crackling and popping sounds.

She had arrived with the Police.

It turns-out that Chip had ratted me out. I wondered if he had confessed to our stealing the marshmallows and candy and I clung even more tightly to my backpack in hopes they weren’t going to ask to see what I had.

I pictured myself locked-up behind bars, begging the Police Officers to let me out, pleading with them that we were just trying to keep ourselves alive.

I got into the Police Car with my teacher. The policeman had talked to me, I’m sure, but I think I used my teacher as a personal shield and translator. She would protect me. I just knew she would.

I remember returning home and feeling a mixture of great disappointment and relief.

I was returning to sadness, confusion, fear and anger.

But, at least, I was warm.

I would never try to run away again. But, I often think about that night and my friend, Chip. We talked briefly the next day, but he had hurt me deeply and I couldn’t forgive him. From then on, I went on my adventures without him. Alone.

I am eternally grateful that my teacher showed me that I was worth something by coming to find me. She didn’t have to. She could have just told the police what she had heard and let them get me.

But, she wanted to be there for me. It is one of those moments in life that leaves an indelible impression and, to this day, makes me cry. She passed away years ago, but I will be grateful for as long as I live for her validation and kindness.

And, to Chip, wherever you are-I forgive you. And, I hope that you found the happiness for which you were searching.

*

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Two Hearts

29 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Depressed, Fear, Feelings, Forgiveness, Growth, High School, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, life, Reflection

*

According to the article “16 Habits of Highly Sensitive People”:

1. They feel more deeply. One of the hallmark characteristics of highly sensitive people is the ability to feel more deeply than their less-sensitive peers. “They like to process things on a deep level,”… “They’re very intuitive, and go very deep inside to try to figure things out.”

I suppose this was always apparent in me.

When I was a kid I used to know, intuitively, that I was supposed to love and care for every person that crossed my path.

When I was 13, I went for a 2-hour walk giving a heated speech (to no one in particular-I lived in the country and there was no one around for miles) about how homosexuals should be welcomed into society freely and without judgement. It was 1993 and I had just seen “And The Band Played On”. It infuriated me-made my blood boil. I couldn’t rest.

As if middle school wasn’t difficult enough, when I entered high school it was as if I had entered a war zone. I was completely lost.

I took every comment, every glance, every shrug, every snide remark, personally-whether, or not, it was even directed towards me.

And, as my teachers were starting to expose us to more world issues and intense literature, I found myself spiraling into a deep, dark place.

My English teacher used to tell me that I needed to learn to have “two hearts”.
He would say: “Heather, you need to learn to have two hearts. One to care for yourself and one to place all the care for the world that is constantly weighing you down.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to do with that advice.

I still don’t know.

me at mike and dans

I have one mind. It is me. For all its greatness and all its weakness. It is what it is.

I feel things deeply. Intensely.

I can’t really explain it. Try this: think of the deepest, most intense, moments of your life: childbirth, marriage, your most intimate sexual experience, a time you felt seething anger, moments of ecstasy, etc. and multiply it by 10.
That’s how I feel about 10-20 things every day.

A memory that rises from the recesses of my brain.
A car that cuts me off as I’m crossing the street.
A careless comment uttered by my husband.
A smile from my baby.
A scene in a tv show.
The feeling of the air as it hits my skin when I step outside.
The smell of toothpaste…

It doesn’t take much to bring me into a deep, introspective, place.

High School is known for being a tough place for everyone. But, it really did almost kill me. And this is one of the reasons why.
I was being exposed to more of life and the world, but given little help in how to process and handle it all.
And so, I have spent every day since I left that hell-hole, trying to come to grips with it all.

I still have a long way to go.

*

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People Pleaser

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Uncategorized

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Approval, Choice, Disappointment, Divorce, Fear, Freedom, freethinking, Invisible, Mistakes, People Pleaser

*

“If you think you can get away with it, you can.”

That’s what my brother said to me many years ago when I saw a girl wearing green camo-style khakis and a blue top and said “I’d never be able to wear that”.

I had been raised with many “to do’s” and “not to do’s” of fashion: never wear horizontal stripes, they make you look fat; white should never be worn after labor day; and, of course, “blue and green should never be seen”.

So, on this particular day when I was looking longingly at this girl who looked great, seemed comfortable and exuded confidence, his words rocked me to my core.

‘I can wear what I want?’

This question, of course, was just a shadow of the deeper struggle going on: ‘I want to be this, but I feel forced to be this .’

I grew-up as a person who wanted to please everyone – a trait that still hangs around my neck like a boulder the size of Texas. I hate letting people down. I hate not living-up to expectations. I hate making mistakes. I hate upsetting people.

So, it has been a pretty huge learning curve for me in life to learn that, no matter how much I try to avoid it, I am going to do some, or all, of it many, many, many times.

Sometimes I feel like I missed the lesson on ‘how to think for yourself’ that everyone else got in life. It’s not that I don’t have my own thoughts, I certainly do, but I only allow them out into the world if it means that it’s going to please people. If I think that it will upset people, I generally will keep it to myself.

This is a huge problem.

It leaves me feeling invisible a lot of the time. I’m afraid to be myself for fear of disappointing people.

I’m not sure when it all started. It could have been when my parent’s divorced and I began to worry that it happened because I wasn’t good enough, or if I could only be perfect maybe I’d see my Dad more often; or when adults would tell me, a child, about their struggles and I felt it was my responsibility to take care of them and make them feel better; or in school when everyone is just trying to be accepted and fit-in so you do and say what you think your peers want. Most likely it’s been a combination of all of the above and more.

Wherever it started, it exists and it sucks.

The intention is to not let it exist here.

Memories will be shared, dreams will flow, imagination will run wild and life will forge forwards as it always does.

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