I Am Not for Everyone

It has taken 24 years to be to say this, for me to own this, but…

I am not for everyone.

My whole life, I have made an effort to be nice, kind — to get along well with others. Conflict (aside from tiffs within my immediate family, with whom I aways knew and trusted there to be love) has always made me incredibly, incredibly stressed. As a child I was painfully shy around new people and I learned early on that the safest way to survive social experiences was to, as I said, do my absolute best to get along with everyone. 

There are positive outcomes from this sort of approach. It has helped to shape me into a more open-minded individual, with wide diversity amongst my friends and acquaintances. In many cases it has encouraged me to be more laid-back, less rigid — when my tendency if on my own, can often be to be very type-A, with a touch of OCD (and although I say that flippantly, I actually do have an OCD diagnosis. Thankfully though, it is fairly mild compared to many (Quick aside — it is a major pet-peeve when someone uses “OCD” as a joke-y adjective or critique of themselves or a friend, when actual OCD is not present. OCD is a disorder. And it can severely handicap how a person is able to conduct their daily life. That is all)). 

…It has also led to a disconnect between what I want and what I do. Over the years, I have become so concerned with what others want and avoiding conflict that I stopped even asking myself, however privately, what I wanted. Did I have an opinion about what restaurant to go to? Did I like the band _____? Did I actually agree with what this person was saying? (Because out loud, I certainly did)!

I’ve spoken before about losing myself in this quest to please others and to be accepted — about losing sight of what matters to me, what I value, or how I would choose to conduct my life if no one would see or know. However, this lifelong habit has backfired in even more ways. I am only just coming to realize how I have harboured secret (yes, secret even to me) resentment toward others. Why do they matter so much more than me? I have grown envious of others’ confidence, apparent freedom and power — the power and ownership to assert their needs. (Wow)!

This pursuit has led to less fulfilling and sound friendships because I was so intent on being someone…else. Interestingly, looking back, the repercussions have been way larger, and much more damaging, than sitting with the discomfort of not being universally liked.

…Plus…many people have persisted in not liking me in my life, anyway. So I’d say this whole tactic was basically bust.

…Which brings me to today.  Today I am coming to terms with the notion: I am not for everyone.

I do not like everyone. Not everyone likes me. Logical…but still hard to swallow.

I have been asking myself questions: If I could choose between everyone liking me “well enough,” or a few people liking  me a “whole darned lot?” which would I choose?

Honestly? It’s an easy answer. I’d choose the few and the “whole darned lot.” Okay. Perspective. I am not for everyone. I do not desire everyone.

…I’ll keep saying it, until it sticks. I am not for everyone, and that is okay. A single person’s opinion of me does not speak to my value or worth as an individual. It can feel as if it does — and I can choose to let it — but I can also choose to just accept the fact. We are different. We all have insecurities and histories and an ugly side…sometimes a person can trigger these in another, simply by “being.”

“Being for everyone” (or trying to) has limited me in my life — my choices, my risks, my romantic and platonic relationships. It has held me back, made me afraid to take a false step.

So. After a couple of decades, I’m calling it quits. I am freeing myself from the need to be liked by everyone, always. From the instinct to always try to be liked. Accepting that I am not for everyone is freeing — it creates a lightness in me, as I realize the choices that I can make now, stress free, when I care only how a few dear people might react. It am released from the need to look, be, “do,” a certain way.

…And, full disclosure, it frees me from the internal conflict I’ve carried my entire life: my desire to fit in, to be part of the pack…and my opposing ego that makes me crave distinction, to want to stand out. (To be the best). …Not that I am choosing to embrace this pathology toward having to be the best…that is a whole ‘other can of worms and an entirely separate blog post…but it is a relief to take a step away from this misalignment of “wants” which has always left me…dissatisfied. Losing out.

Accepting that I am not for everyone is a huge stepping stone — one that I hope will lead me toward sorting out my confusion around feeling “not chosen,” being envious, feeling like the world is “unfair”…and all of the inner drama that those feelings have created.

…So, what about you? Are you “not for everyone?” Is it time for you too to embrace this concept and recognize that…it is okay?

Transitions

This time last year, I wrote a piece (this piece) for my school’s Mental Health Blog. It was some thoughts about autumn. About change. Transitions. It is September again, which, as Gretchen Rubin says, is “the other January” and I want to share it with you now, here.
Thank you for reading. 

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Autumn is a season of transition. Change. Slowly, the trees are shedding emerald garb in favour of majestic reds, browns and orange. Temperatures are declining, and the first sting of frost becomes apparent as the sun drops away behind the mountains each night. Here, at UVic, we too are in a period of transition. Moving from our summer jobs or travelling into the busy and often overwhelming rhythm of classes, library study sessions, and late night plans with friends.  Perhaps we are returning to school after a summer away; perhaps this is our first time away from home, our opportunity to assert our independence, to choose what we’ll have for dinner, choose “who we want to be.” Possibly this month marks our first time living off campus: cooking our own meals, managing the commute, navigating roommates and chore schedules. For many of us, we are arriving in a brand new city: unfamiliar surroundings, school, people.

Change is challenge. Even for those who embrace it, who exclaim “I love change!” it takes a certain elasticity of mind and emotion to flow gracefully from one way of being into another. Unconsciously, we all have ways of coping with change, keeping our heads above the water, as the tide tugs us in a new direction. This might involve trying to take as much of our past with us as possible: struggling to maintain the same habits we’re used to. Morning runs. Friday night parties. Honey Nut Cheeri-Os. Finding friends that remind of us people we know. Sometimes, we see ourselves developing new habits: a new gym routine, Netflix binges, late night munchies, a vigorous commitment to our studies.

This isn’t easy. Even if we are not consciously aware of the discomfort, as we are thrown from one reality into another, there is a long period of adaptation. We might notice a shift in the quality of our sleep, find ourselves sporting a shorter fuse, or a lower threshold for stress. Importantly, we aren’t alone. We are human. This is life. Some of the ways I am managing my own transition this month (moving to a new city, starting a graduate program after a year away from school, living without roommates for the first time) is by establishing nurturing routines. Yoga in the mornings. Finding something each day to be grateful for and writing it down. Making plans with acquaintances, testing them out, but practicing being my honest self even if it means we don’t perfectly “click” (because I know that someone will). Cooking food that nourishes me. Scheduling phone dates with family. Exploring the city and in particular, the nature surrounding it. Mount Doug near campus is a beautiful park to explore, or we can venture further, for some puppy therapy at Beacon Hill Park, or to Fisherman’s Wharf to enjoy seals and colourful houseboats.

On my fridge I have posted a weekly calendar, dry-erase. This is my “self-care calendar” and each day I schedule something just for me: a yoga class, a hot bath, a massage, painting my nails, reading a novel. Often, when things get hectic, self-care practices are the first to go, because they seem “less important” than that lab due, that midterm next week, our workout…But this just isn’t true. How far will any car go if we neglect to fuel the tank? By writing out plans for ourselves, it becomes easier to prioritize fitting in 10, 20, even 60 minutes into our day to refuel. On the topic of “refueling,” I’m also committing to getting enough sleep, 7-8 hours every night.  This is a major game changer…and coming from a girl who, in the last year of my undergrad, put sleep at the very bottom of my list, after school, gym, friends, bars and Netflix (Suits anyone? Sherlock)?! Right now, I am rising by 6 am each day, which I know means being in bed no later than 11. And time and time again, I am noticing that I am not feeling regretful for leaving the bar a tiny bit early. The more tired I am, the more stressed my body and mind are, leaving less room for patience, for embracing fun and social pursuits and for the things I just love to do.

Acknowledge the changes happening this month in your life. Recognize that it isn’t easy—for any of us. Choose self-love and nourishment. Because you are worth it. Now, grab a glass of fresh water, local “kombucha-on-tap,” ginger tea, or a pint of craft brew …and make a toast: to you. To your best health. To a precious and exciting, life-long relationship with your mind, body and the possibilities of change.