#RecoveringPeoplePleaser: How ditching a boring text convo changed my life
One day, I realized I didn't have to take part in social niceties just because someone else expected and wanted them from me.
A few years ago, while volunteering as an usher for a large performing-arts center, I casually got to know a group of fellow volunteers. The women were much older than me, but they were friendly, and I was new in town and eager to get to know people.
So I didn’t hesitate to exchange phone numbers with one woman, whom I’ll call Irene, when she asked me to. I figured she might want to have lunch sometime, or to meet up to see a Broadway play for free (a key perk to the volunteer gig we shared).
Unfortunately, Irene turned out to be a dud of a new acquaintance. She texted me about boring things endlessly — throughout the day, every day — and not only that, but seemed to expect my responses to be as thorough as they were immediate.
I found myself in the awkward social trap of exchanging daily texts with a person whose energy drained me.
I kept hoping Irene would lose steam. But the screens’ worth of texts just kept on a’coming.
Still, I kept responding to her, keeping up what had by now almost begun to feel like a part-time job. Why? Because at that point in my life, it had not yet occurred to me that I didn’t have to be nice to everyone!
#RecoveringPeoplePleaser
Coincidentally — or not so coincidentally? — around this same time, I had been regularly attending discussion circles at a small local spirituality center owned and operated by a woman I admired. She had an authentic vibe. She didn’t insist on the events she held being “love and light.” She didn’t freak out if someone taking part in a group gathering began crying, or demonstrating anger or any other quote-unquote “negative” emotion. That was a welcome relief from what is typical in the New Age spirituality space.
At her events and classes, she allowed people to feel and express grief, anger, frustration, hopelessness as well as joy, enthusiasm and giddiness — an entire rainbow of emotions — without trying to “fix” anyone or give unsolicited advice.
Okay, awesome, you’re probably thinking. Kumbaya and all that. So what does this have to do with Irene?
Well, one day I put two and two together and I realized — my spiritual mentor would never waste weeks of her life texting back and forth with a random woman she’d just met, especially a person whose texts came across as long and boring.
The thought of her doing this for even an hour literally made me laugh. It was almost too ridiculous to contemplate.
So why was I doing it?
The answer I was forced to realize was this: My spiritual mentor is a person who demonstrates strong boundaries, standing in one’s power, knowing one’s worth, making self-honoring choices, and not apologizing for choosing one’s own path.
And I wasn’t those things. Yet.
My spiritual mentor wasn’t born that way. She was raised in circumstances that were limiting at best, abusive at worst. Like so many of us, she’s has to fight her way to strength.
What I began to understand seems obvious to me in retrospect: People who know their self-worth and who stand fully in their power don’t tolerate anything that drains them. And that includes texting with Irene.
“I’m sorry, Irene, it’s been great getting to know you, and I’m sure we’ll see each other volunteering, but I won’t be able to text anymore,” I tapped into my Samsung smartphone.
“Why not?” Irene replied immediately.
“I’ve been needing to stay off my phone because I’m no longer as focused on my hobbies and responsibilities, and I’ve realized I need a lot more offline time.”
Sure, it was sort of bullshit, but there was a glimmer of truth in my polite excuse. Plus, it would have been pointlessly cruel to text an elderly woman (or anyone), “Because you bore me.”
Of course, Irene wasn’t going to give up that easily. She pulled out the friendship card, then the guilt card, but I stuck to my new guns. It was frustrating to have to repeat myself, but I could also understand how Irene felt.
Overall, I was proud of myself for creating a boundary. Yet I still felt like kind of an asshole. Did I hurt Irene’s feelings? Is there something wrong with me? Am I anti-social? Am I unfeeling, cold?
This is the plight of the recovering people pleaser.
In one sense, all I had done was politely slip away from a near-stranger’s unwanted digital intrusions. In doing so, I reduced my stress level, protected my own mental health, and demonstrated emotional intelligence. But to a recovering people pleaser, no matter how justified you may be to say “no,” it still somehow feels wrong to say “no.”
By making this shift, I was planting a seed that would eventually sprout into a new way of living.
The growth happened organically, over a long period of time.
A few years after Irene, I wrote in my journal: “I had kind of an epiphany today. I realized that …