November 11, 2009

Old Dog, Same Old Tricks.

Like a dog on her hindquarters waiting patiently for the treat held just out of reach, I wait patiently for affirmation. Acceptance. I’ll roll over just so, being careful not to get fur on the carpet. I’ll walk gingerly around mud so I don’t track it through the house. I want to do right. I want the treat, to be sure, but it’s the pat on the head and warm smile I want most. It fuels me.

I used to – and to a small (read: large) extent still do – put on a mask, a veil that covered up my true feelings or ideas. I wanted to do right by the person in charge, so I’d read him or her to see what was needed. And I’d do it, adding a little more “more” for good measure. And, at least on the scale by which I modulate my own triumphs and equilibrium, I think I do a fucking great job on that which I’ve been tasked. I’ve somewhat lowered the veil and started to be more of my “self,” to act more in accordance with what I think independent of who is asking the question, as it were. But that need for acceptance, for affirmation, still lingers, still swirling, still waiting to be supped like a fine digestif.

I fucking hate this about myself.

I hate that I can go into A Certain Place That Shan’t Be Blogged and actually try, actually care, pipe in with ideas on how I would do something, how I would manage an issue, and thus throw myself into the path of the condescension-laden dismissal. It’s relentless, the disapproval, and punches me squarely on my ass. “Wellllllll,” they say, a predication that invariably follows a silent “pffft, whatever” concerning my opinion. It’s always opposite. It’s always dismissed.

The treat is taken away, put back into the bag. I drop from my hindquarters and sulk away, my tail between my legs. Let me do something right. Let me be useful, capable. Let me have value.

It is, by any estimation, an internal childlike tantrum. A stomping of the foot, cross and defensive. I know this. I’m not having an “A-ha!” moment. This need of affirmation is a tired sport; I’m always a medalist in the Irrelevance Quarterfinals. I walked out of a meeting the other day mumbling to myself (and, apparently at least one other person) that I won’t be attending any more meetings. And today, walking away, I muttered, “Why do I even ask.” I’ve gone from being useful at my former job just a year ago, mattering, holding an essential position to now, handing a self-drafted document (an email, for fuck’s sake) over to be reviewed before sending on. I’ve gone from making decisions on my own, based on my understanding and knowledge, from being employed to laid off to employed again, to sitting back like a petulant teenager because what I say doesn’t matter. The distance between the two years have yawned to a point at which I barely remember being useful.

Let me mean something. Let me matter.

I spent almost my entire lifetime chasing a relative I adored only to ultimately be dismissed. It’s been present in relationships past. With my family. Let me have value. Let me matter. Hours and hours of therapy were devoted to sorting through this issue of perfection, of measuring up to someone else’s standards. Not my own. My own standards are merely reflections of those held by the most dismissive.

The obviousness of this running theme in my life is compelling and, as always, deeply enhanced (if not wholly solved for a few hours) by vodka. Why do I insist on inserting myself into these situations? Why do I press on in the face of consistent dismissal? Why does it even matter to me? Why the fuck am I ending my day with a pounding headache from gritting my teeth, trying to loosen my muscles with calm music and a Xanax? Why, after all these years, do all these perfectly aligned lessons go unlearned? Over and over, the same scenario plays out. Eventually I disengage, if at all possible, but the yearning is still a dull throb. It’s always there. It’s potent and astonishing, this need to exist, to be something. And it’s exhausting and useless. I worked myself to exhaustion this afternoon at the gym, sweatingfeelingpanting. I didn’t work it out of me, but I pressed myself, I worked harder. I want to do something on my own, something valuable. It’s the figurative “I’ll show them!” mentality, complete with the scrunched face and shaking fist. Only I’m not showing anyone. It’s not for anyone to notice. But maybe I’m showing myself that I can show it to others. Or maybe it’s just as simple as reaching for a generic impossible standard. I do, after all, ultimately do this to myself.

I hate this, I hate all of it. I hate it and I want to erase it, to never feel confusion or meaninglessness again, to be confident that I’m capable. I want to know I have value and merit because it’s mine and I own it, that no one else’s standards matter. I don’t want to chase friends or relatives or colleagues to show them that, if they’ll just give me a pat on the head, I can jump through hoops. I hate convincing myself every single time that surely this will be the last hoop through which I’ll have to prove myself, that afterward I’ll be given a gold star and rewarded with the treat that is, for me, affirmation. Value. Mattering. Meaning something.

But these various standards exist, and always will, and I’ll wait. I’ll wag my tail, stand on my hindquarters, bark and lay down in silence on demand. If shooed, I’ll walk away, await the next opportunity. Like a whipped puppy, I will always return, over and over and over again because I want to mean something. But in the meantime I play dead, for what else is there to do when you hit the pause button on your own life between arbitrary chances to matter?

Filed under: Daily, Family, Friends, Insecurities, Life, Mental [In]Stability

Tags: Airing of the Grievances, Anxiety, Depression, Family, Fear, Friends, frustration, hate, Insecurities, Life, Me, meaning, Mental, Mental Health, shame, Therapy

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11 Responses to “Old Dog, Same Old Tricks.”

On November 11th, 2009 at 7:09 am Beth Says:

Muffin, you *do* mean something. You *do* matter. There is no “let” about it. What’s that saying? No one can make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them? Something like that.

But let’s quote someone more sage: “Don’t take it personally when they say ‘no’ – they may not be smart enough to say ‘yes.’ ”

Excuse my language, but fuck the fuckers, Stac. If people don’t appreciate you, find the people who do. We’re out here.

xo
Beth´s last blog ..Love …
On November 11th, 2009 at 7:10 am Beth Says:

Hey, how’s about a bit of attribution. The quote in the comment above is by the ever-handsome Mr. Keith Olbermann.
On November 11th, 2009 at 9:09 am Jurgen Nation
Twitter: jurgen_nation
Says:

Thanks, sunshine. God, it just pisses me off that I continue to seek approval from dickheads when I should have learned my lesson long ago. It was just a damn shit day and I needed to vent.
On November 11th, 2009 at 10:04 am Andrea
Twitter: shutterbitch
Says:

It took me lots of therapy to deal with the exact same thing, the same craving for approval and the same fear that what bad thoughts people COULD be having about me they surely WERE having them about me. I could have written this.

Only not quite as eloquently.
Andrea´s last blog ..Adventures in Boxing and Dyeing
On November 11th, 2009 at 10:18 am Beth Says:

I hear you, darlin’. On a related note, I just read this, via a link in a tweet:
http://joblifearchitect.com/job-success/are-you-normal-fitting-in-vs-being-authentic-part-2/
On November 11th, 2009 at 11:49 am Chris Says:

I think the desire to please and feel affirmed is common. It’s when we allow the fact that we can’t and won’t please everyone [although I seek out the difficult dickheads too. what is THAT about?] to CRUSH us. I completely understand your feelings, and at 43 continue to struggle with this. It’s better, but… shit. Go easy on yourself though.
Chris´s last blog ..Resourceful
On November 11th, 2009 at 1:18 pm Kelly Says:

That is strong medicine – powerful and poignant. I once was experiencing something similar when a therapist told me…maybe there really isn’t a problem here…maybe you create your own endless pathology. Not saying you do, not at all, but I know this strange simplicity helped me. Cheers to you.
On November 11th, 2009 at 2:36 pm Titanium Says:

There are days when I aspire to be as self-confident as the Geico lizard-er-gecko. And there are other days when I wonder if it even matters- to me or anyone else.

I’m sorry you had one of those kind of days. If it’s any comfort: you are not mediocre. You are not meh…

The good moments and bad ones are both dramatic elevation changes only traversed by way of a nasty swamp of self-doubt. You are an incredibly intelligent, strong, capable person. May the worst of your tomorrows be better than the best of your yesterdays.
Titanium´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday
On November 12th, 2009 at 2:44 pm Justine Says:

You might get some useful information from Making Work Work For Highly Sensitive People (Barrie Jaeger, Ph.D., 2004, ISBN 0-07-140810-X).

I’ve learned that understanding why we do something is only a smallish portion of the battle. A harder part is coming up with something to do instead, and the really hard part is doing that ‘instead’ consistently. You have to have an alternative response, and work at using it, because in a stress situation, we go with what we know.
On November 13th, 2009 at 2:35 am Not Afraid To Use It
Twitter: natui
Says:

Good god woman, are we living parallel lives or what? You and I have to sit down for a coffee one day. I think we could swap stories until they kicked us out.

A huge thank you to Justine for the book reference. On the Xmas list now. There just might be a picture of my in the index.

Also, in reference to this post, one song I really love just for the exact sentiment you expressed here:

Let me know that you need me
Let me know your touch
Let me know that you love me
Let that be enough.

Because it’s never enough, is it?
Not Afraid To Use It´s last blog ..Spreading My Wings
On November 13th, 2009 at 2:40 am Not Afraid To Use It
Twitter: natui
Says:

Okay, sorry I fucked up the lyrics and I can’t edit my comment, so here is the whole damned thing instead.

Switchfoot – Let that be enough

I wish I had what I needed
To be on my own
‘Cause I feel so defeated
And I’m feeling alone

And it all seems so helpless
And I have no plans
I’m a plane in the sunset
With nowhere to land

And all I see
It could never make me happy
And all my sand castles
Spend their time collapsing

Let me know that you hear me
Let me know your touch
Let me know that you love me
Let that be enough

It’s my birthday tomorrow
No one here could know
I was born this Thursday
22 years ago

And I feel stuck
Watching history repeating
Yeah, who am I?
Just a kid who knows he’s needy

Let me know that you hear me
Let me know your touch
Let me know that you love me
And let that be enough
Not Afraid To Use It´s last blog ..Spreading My Wings