Anatomy of a people pleaser
To belong, to be accepted, to be loved: these are always at the heart of why I choose to please people. All I want is to be wanted, so if I bend (and break) myself to get just that, then maybe I’ll get the acceptance I long for. But when I don’t, I don’t just lose others’ acceptance — I lose them, and ultimately, I lose myself.
I worked on myself for myself.
Whether it’s for reasons of fitting in or gaining acceptance, people tend to change how they look before anything else. I wasn’t any different.
I played varsity badminton most of my grade school and high school years. Never the quickest runner, highest jumper, or hardest hitter, I let my frustrations and insecurities of not looking and being like my teammates get the best of me. And day by day, I fell more and more out of love with the sport.
In college and two years after, I saw little to no action on the court; let alone in anything that involved physical activity. The insecurity of not looking like other girls was always at the back of my mind, but it never really bothered me enough to do anything about it.
I’d attend a couple of fitness classes here and there, just for the social aspect of it — never really to make sustainable lifestyle changes. As anticipated, I hardly ever saw results, nor did I expect any differences.
I got hired as a copywriter at a prestigious startup as a fresh graduate, with little to no writing experience. Always one to want to be on everyone’s good side, I can’t remember how many times I said ‘no’ when asked to take on roles I didn’t want to.
It was only when The Movement Studio opened that my perception changed. A good friend began teaching there and tried to convince me to be a guinea pig for their program, which was a new concept.
I was reluctant, intimidated, but most of all afraid: afraid that I wouldn’t fit in, afraid I would fail their program. If I failed, would I be the reason they’d doubt what they were advocating for? But, after weeks of forcing from my friend, I gave in.
Of course I did — I’m a people pleaser, aren’t I?
I followed a strict diet and had to attend classes at least thrice a week. Afraid to be a disappointment, I worked as hard as I could to stick to the program. It took lots of discipline, but my clothes started fitting better and I could do everyday things with so much more ease.
I found myself working out regularly and eating well — not because I was afraid of disappointing others, but because I saw how strong I could become if I kept going. My progress became a good addiction. I worked on myself for myself, felt I was at my healthiest, and for me, that was more than enough.
I backed down so I could get back up.
“Mind over matter” is something I would tell myself a lot. When things got difficult, I’d think: It’s all in the mind. While a good mantra to keep oneself going, I didn’t realize that it pushed me too far.
I got hired as a copywriter at a prestigious startup as a fresh graduate, with little to no writing experience. Always one to want to be on everyone’s good side, I can’t remember how many times I’ve said “no” when asked to take on roles I didn’t want to. Maybe that’s because “yes” was all I ever actually said.
At the beginning, I loved my job. But instead of being motivated by that, all I had in mind was impressing my teammates and higher-ups, and proving them right for hiring someone who was inexperienced, but capable. I took on way more responsibility than I could handle, afraid that saying “no” would make me seem incompetent.
Excelling in one thing never seemed enough, so I’d accept new tasks I knew I wasn’t trained for. I knew I was spreading myself too thin most times, but that’s really what start-ups are like, right? I thought: the more things I say “yes” to, the higher my chances of getting on the bosses’ good side.
I lost sight of why I wanted to do what I did. Gone was the bright-eyed fresh graduate who just wanted to tell stories; in her place stood someone who was dead inside, functioning on auto-pilot and dreading waking up to each new workday. Yet she continued to helplessly fight the daily uphill battle for approval.
I’ve always been well aware that pleasing people too much doesn’t do any good. But while the belongingness, acceptance, and love from others I originally sought weren’t always the end-all here, these are the stories that make me ‘me.’
It took about three-and-a-half years, too-many-to-count role changes, two non-promotions, and a global pandemic to make me realize that finally it was time to leave, and so I did. I gave my mind a break, backed down from the challenge to get back up again, and I’ve never felt more at peace.
I tried to become someone I could never be.
When it comes to matters of the heart, all we want to be is enough for someone. Even when we’re not entirely sure what “enough” means.
We met in my last year in college. He was your typical “crush ng bayan” who never really knew what he wanted, but I knew for sure I wasn’t it.
A school event brought us closer, and just like that, we went on date-like non-dates on-and-off for a year. Coffee shops, bars, nice dinners, parties with friends, concerts, out-of-town trips — you name it. Yet, despite the seemingly obvious signs, his inconsistency always made me question where I stood.
Not knowing where his heart was at, I tried to meet it where I thought it could be — and that meant unknowingly changing myself to fit what I thought he wanted. I knew stories about his past and how we could never work together. Yet I wanted his future to be me.
Each encounter would make me wonder which version of him I’d get: my shy, nonchalant friend? Or the guy who looked at me like I was the only person in the room?
I lived for the hope of it all, even when he wasn’t mine to lose. In my attempt to change him, I turned into something I was not — and a version of myself I didn’t like. It took being replaced by someone who could give him exactly what he wanted, muting him on social media for a while, and finally getting closure (after a year and nine months!), for me to accept what I had known all along: that what he needed was something I could never become.
I’ve always been well aware that pleasing people too much doesn’t do any good. But while the belongingness, acceptance, and love from others I originally sought weren’t always the end-all here, these are the stories that make me “me.”
Call it a blessing or a curse, but the ability to adapt to situations and people that first broke and burned me, is what always leads me to a happier ending. Through flawed starts with wrong intentions, I’m led to a journey where I find self-acceptance, I find self-love, and best of all, I find myself.
Photo Art by Kyle Azarcon