I am focused on growth. In places you can’t see, and in places that you’ll rarely hear me talk about. Except of course, in this blog, where I feel free to write my truths. And in a therapeutic way, get some things out of my head and into words.
As I am creeping ever slowly to the landmark age of fifty, I think back to the transitions I have made in the past two years. They haven’t been small changes; they have been disruptive, but in the best possible way. Because I don’t think of the transition as a loss. It has been a liberation, and recovery of my happiness.
Kind of like the way a forest fire demolishes everything, and it feels destructive and disarming and almost grief worthy. The loss of what was “known” and established. But then, from destruction comes new life and growth. Something more resilient perhaps than before, after the smoke has cleared. And fresh. And clean.
Meditation. Reading. More meditation. Deep conversations with the few people who actually know and love me well. I’m blessed to have a couple of people who will listen, but also challenge me. And my self-concepts which, for the most part, are fallible at best. And self-injurious and limiting, most often.
Taking a Look at the Source Code
If I think of my behavior as human code, like software or programming, then I can definitely source out the bits that are causing the problem. I work with code every day of my life. This makes it easier for me to evaluate what is working and what is not working. And most importantly, what aspects of my emotional and behavioral code MUST change as I enter this new woke (and strong AF) stage of my life.
Much of my anger and sadness, is thinking back to all the times in my life when I gave so much and got so little in return. Or worse, when I supported someone as they walked through hellish adversities, only to find them define me as “burdensome” when I needed them to “show up” for me the same way.
Because, with extremely few exceptions, they don’t.
I am a people pleaser. Genetically. And I hate it, but I have never understood it with more clarity than I do now. And perhaps a teaspoon of self-compassion. That self-compassion stuff is a work in progress. I have compassion in boatloads for others, but not so much for myself. But it’s starting to change.
A human being that wants to be loved. Shocking. Someone who didn’t receive the kind of trusting nurturing from her parents? Yep. That’s part of it. I realize today I was more complex and intelligent, and to be honest, I don’t think my parents knew how to manage that.
Embracing the Divergent Code
I’m divergent programming. Not that I think I am special, or better than anyone else. Just unique code and maybe uncommon enough to be difficult for some to understand, or connect with. And I’ve become so used to being “different” that on most days, with all honesty? I give zero fucks whether I fit in or not. I presume I do not.
Oh the days when I wanted to be like everyone else. When I thought it was better to act stupid (or the drunk party girl) to fit in with the “normal folks” around me. Nah. I am writing three books, killing it in my career, in financial recovery post-divorce, and in a fabulous relationship and I have more dogs than any human should.
There are lyrics and songs in my head, advertising campaigns, state expansion strategies, and zero fashion sense. Thank God for the color black that allows me to look semi-cool and hide my inability to color coordinate outfits. I talk to my dogs and FOR my dogs… because I can read their body language. And I was a later adopter of air fryer technology.
I can’t fathom wearing different socks, I get excited about ideas, and my brain is constantly racing. I am cuddly (if I trust and like you) and strong, loyal, and hardworking, and my favorite color is red. Infer as you will. My entire life I have aspired to be beige. I am red. And now, approaching fifty? I love the red of me. And every aspect of my unique wiring. Even if it means I am an acquired taste and social match for very few people on this planet.
Online Social Is Like Mexican Food: Tastes Great! Not Filling
I love Mexican food. But it’s not filling. Literally, I can eat 3 street tacos and some Mexican corn with crema, and feel like I am busting a gut. Then about two hours later, I feel like I haven’t eaten anything at all. I am famished and unfulfilled.
That’s what I learned about online engagements. Have you ever noticed that some people swear off social media entirely? Now to be fair I am a virtual world person. I am also a marketing executive who joined Facebook right after the Beta was released (circa 2007… early adopter, much?) I have been in online MMORPGs since Half-Life (yep, I’m old). Warcraft? Done it. Second Life? Beautiful place to visit (but it can be addicting and a big time sink if you aren’t careful).
I’ve never been the kind of person content to watch TV for 80 hours a week and pile chips in my mouth on a couch. I’m just not that dumb. Because we don’t know how much time we have on this planet. Maybe when I am 80 and it makes sense to sit safely and engage almost exclusively online. I am losing weight BECAUSE I’m offline.
I need to see the facial expressions of someone I like. I need to reach over a counter and pat a hand while laughing at something cute a kid just did in a burger joint. Or smile watching young women be young women, posing for Instagram selfies. I like being around other people.
From “Like Me Please!” to IDGAF If You Do
I tend to include everyone in a broad sweeping statement when I am dissatisfied. Not one or two things are wrong, but EVERYTHING is wrong. I didn’t do one or two things badly, EVERYTHING is bad. I’m aware of the whole “throw the baby with the bathwater” and I am cognizant of the need to specify exactly what I mean about this shift in my code.
- If you are nice to me, and I like you, I care. And you’ll find I will be there when you need me.
- If you are nice to me, and I don’t like you, I’ll be polite. But access pass denied to the deeper bits.
- If I was nice to you and interested in knowing you, and you were unkind or malicious? Bye!
- If you were initially nice to me, but it was a lie, and you are actually malicious? BYE!
- If you are a dishonest, gossiping, troublemaking immature diva who likes to play games? BYE!
It makes me sad that in all five scenarios I used to FIGHT to make it work anyhow. Because I wanted to love and be loved. Even though, loving someone who doesn’t treat you kindly? Well, that’s a betrayal to yourself.
That part is definitely gone from my code. Is it arrogant? Interestingly, only exploitative people find my boundaries offensive. Cool. I’m glad there is no miscommunication now. If you are offended by my rules I’ll assume they foil your intentions to game me. D’aww…
My days of worrying about being liked by assholes are over.
Staying True to My Social Preferences
You’ll know if I don’t respect or like you. We may run into each other at a bar or something and it’s not awkward (and shouldn’t feel that way). I’m just not interested in talking to you. And I am really good at communicating that in a classy, but direct way with my body language.
Meet my shoulder. Or a quick eye contact and wink, before I move away to engage with people I actually DO enjoy spending time with. Herd mentality? Nah. Social Darwinism. And ZERO apologies. It takes a lot for me to dislike someone. If you landed here, you earned it. And as quickly as I can be fascinated with someone I can forget they exist entirely. Another ADHD superpower I am grateful for.
I will not feel bad about disliking someone I dislike ever again. I trust my instincts. And listen to them. Because when I ignored that little voice that told me the person was “not quite kind” bad things happened. I cull without remorse, to build a social sphere that is warm honest, and fun. Sans the dramatics that I find exhausting. My tolerance for drama llama’s now? Zero.
My tolerance for disloyalty? I used to give third and fourth and tenth chances… not anymore though. I am loyal to a fault to those I love. I am that person that stands with you through bad things and helps. Supports. Protects. Advises and comforts. If that isn’t in your code? Bye.
Pleasing My Self First
I am approaching 50 and have no children. I have a great education and I have worked hard to craft a great career. I continue to work hard, play hard, and love hard. And any day of the week my brain is literally bursting with creative ideas and concepts.
In this chapter, I take care of Lori. Emotionally, spiritually, and physically. As a priority that is first on the list instead of last, after meeting the needs of everyone else in my sphere. No. Now, I come first.
And the standards I have set for my own evolution in happiness and self-care are broad reaching. I will question the value of anything that doesn’t bring me peace, happiness, excitement or love. Swinging the pendulum from “IGAF about everything even if it is not within my control” to being selective about the appropriation of said precious F*cks I give. Every day.
It took me half a century to get to this place. Where self-care and self-compassion and love for myself come first. So far, I love the view. It’s a process with slow progress, but I am getting there (even with the occasional reversal).
I may never have received the love I truly earned from others in my life. But I allowed myself to be taken for granted, and exploited by my “People Pleasing Code”. I don’t measure myself by counting how many people like me. Or how many people I actually like and care about.
My success will be measured by how well I take care of myself in every vertical. Including guarding access to me, if you are in any way a threat to my peace of mind and well-being. That’s just too much power to give anyone in this new era of falling madly in love… with myself.
