Lyda here. I actually wrote this post on Good Friday, but I’ve taken out the bad chocolate bunny jokes. It took me two weeks to finish this and post it. Wimp. Which is hilarious considering the content.
And now that you are dizzy with anticipation…
I had an ugly week, full of crying and worrying and not sleeping and freaking out about various things.
I had the bad realization that I’ve gained weight. Again. Sigh.
And the good? Thursday night, after a dismal therapy session – how sick does it make me that my therapist is firing me? yeah, that sick – I sat and cried and journaled for an hour about it all. Why is that the good?
I decided this:
No more worrying about what other people think. No more worrying, period.
So I’m in debt and broke and I haven’t paid all of my rent for this month yet, and I haven’t paid all my rent for the month before either. So I’m fat and I’m in pain all the time. So I can’t sleep, my apartment needs cleaning (oh yes it does), and I can’t afford to go back to school this year – or in the foreseeable future. So I’ve been alone so long that I’ve probably forgotten how to kiss. So there are other things that are weighing on me that I cannot get into… things about my kid and my friends…
I’ve have spent my whole life worrying about other people, taking care of them, trying to please them.
My parents, my teachers, my classmates, my boyfriends, my friends, my siblings, my husbands…
yes, there were two marriages, and also several close calls that I am SO glad I escaped, but that’s a whole ‘nother Oprah
… my son, my bosses, and – yes – complete strangers.
And you know what?
I have been spectacularly unsuccessful at pleasing them in the long term.
Wanna know why? I finally figured it out.
It’s not my job to please them. I CAN NOT MAKE THEM HAPPY.
Everyone gets to decide for themselves if they are going to be happy. Each day. Each moment. On their own.
If they are unhappy, it’s not my fault. If they are happy, it’s not my success.
Ya’ll, this is a huge revelation for this ole Pollyanna. I used to think that I could make people happy if only I tried hard enough and was good enough, and that it was my job to make them happy. And they would be happy if only I was good enough.
ALL THESE YEARS I WAS TRYING TO BE “GOOD.” Good daughter, sister, mom, wife, employee…. Good good good.
You know what?
Fuck being good.
I hereby declare that I am no longer a good girl.
I’m going to see how being a bitch feels.
Right now, Anna-Liza is screaming “About damn time!!”
I’m not saying I’m going to be mean or cruel or indifferent.
But I am going to stop trying to be what I think other people want me to be.
And when someone asks me to NOT be me, I’m going to say, loud and clear, “No.”
From here on out, I’m going to be me.
As loud as I can.
So watch out, ya’ll.
And yes, Anna-Liza, I do think that this could be FUN.