On Assholes and Doormats (Blog #517)

Late this morning I woke up in Tulsa, then drove straight back to Arkansas, to therapy. Then I poked around in two bookstores and went out for pizza and beer. (More therapy.) Then I went to see my friend Kim, who’d invited me to Porch Pickin’, this thing where a bunch of Kim’s friends get together and play music / listen to music on her neighbor’s front porch. Now it’s just before midnight, and I’m at my parents’ dinner table. So after being on the road and out-of-town for seven full days, I’m finally home–back in glorious Van Buren.

I’m so ready to go to bed, it’s not even funny.

Speaking of things that aren’t funny, despite the fact that I was exhausted all day yesterday–like, I was dragging the tops of my feet across the carpet on the way to bed–I couldn’t sleep for shit last night. No kidding, I tossed and turned all night. Maybe it’s because it was the night after the full moon. That really does affect me sometimes. Anyway, I eventually conked out, but then my alarm went off. What the hell? Color me not impressed.

Today my therapist and I talked about someone that–quite frankly–I think is an asshole. That being said, I’ve seen this person being extremely kind, and I admire them for their ability to be direct. They always say EXACTLY what’s on their mind, and you always know right where you stand. Anyway, the subject came up because I actually have a lot of fantasies about behaving like this person–you know, saying, “Shut the fuck up, Beatrice,” or “Go play in traffic, you little piece of shit.” I realize these wouldn’t be “nice” things to say or do, but that’s precisely the point. I’ve tried the “nice” thing; it’s exhausting.

According to my therapist, I’ve been rocking the 12-step, recovering-people-pleaser program for quite a while now. Things are so much better than they used to be. And yet, I still bite my tongue more than I’d like to. My therapist says the solution is a matter of combining directness with style. In this asshole’s case, he’s ALL directness. No class. In my case, however–this is my therapist’s opinion–I’m all style. The consummate diplomat. “Sometimes when a person who’s a jerk gets under our skin,” my therapist said, “it’s because we want a little bit of what they have. Like, we’d give up some of our style if we could have some of their directness.”

There really are times when I’d like this–to be a total snot. I’m not sure I’d like the consequences–my therapist says you can burn bridges–but I’ve shoved down so many emotions and NOT stood up for myself so many times over the last four decades that having at least one full-blown tirade sounds really appealing.

So maybe keep your distance until I can get a good night’s rest.

But really, my therapist and I agreed that you can be both direct and classy (or kind) at the same time. You can not be a doormat AND not burn bridges. You can speak your truth AND not degrade, demean, or be rude to the person with whom you are communicating. It IS possible.

This should be my new mantra–

Hum. This is something I’m working on. More and more, I’m not considering my people-pleasing tendencies or any part of my personality set in stone. A book I read recently said we do that–think of ourselves as unchangeable. We say, “I’m a people pleaser,” or “That’s just the way I am.” But the book suggested saying, “I THINK OF myself as a people pleaser,” since that subtlety suggest that changes can occur when we are willing to SEE ourselves in a different way. For me–ideally–that way looks like being direct, honest, AND kind. In other words–and maybe this should be my new mantra–not an asshole, not a doormat.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can rewrite our stories if we want to.

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by

Writer. Dancer. Virgo. Full of rich words. Full of joys. (Usually.)

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