PEOPLE PLEASER

It’s funny how you can feel as though you have finally made a breakthrough and then a tsunami can come crashing down on you the next day.

I shaved my head approximately 2 years ago. That in itself was liberating because I finally did something nobody expected of me. People were shocked, my mother and sisters quite literally cried seeing I had shaved my head. But nobody wanted me to do it, I wanted to do it though and I made it happen, with the help of a friend who actually knew how to use clippers of course. That was liberating because I was able to show myself I could actually do something that went against people’s wishes, in that moment I was not a people pleaser. Most would draw the conclusion that if you are getting a buzz cut, especially as a woman, you must be going through a mental breakdown of some sort. Maybe I was. Yeah I definitely probably might have been. But there was also a deep sense of pride I had in myself because while I would look in the mirror and see my new look, I just couldn’t help but laugh and smile because I had done something so crazy. The hardest part was my appearance. I looked starkly different from all the long curly hair I had before. I was not the striking frame of a woman "as seen on tv", I wasn't even as feminine because I had no hair. That was the fun part though too, why do I need to have long luscious locks to maintain my sense of femininity? Some classmates noted later they thought (before knowing me personally) that I was gay because I had shaved my head, which is also fun to be able to say, “nope, I’m a straight woman, just wanted to shave my head!” For me, this buzzcut was a middle finger to all the expectations I felt so weary from carrying on my shoulders. With the buzz I would say what I wanted, and stop holding it all in.  Maybe I did, in some ways. I resolved my relationship with my Father, or in the least, improved it and that was brave. I also confessed my feelings for this one dude, probably not the right choice for that one though, I would later realize. The point being, I was saying things out LOUD!! I wasn’t just bottling up my emotions and hoping they would disappear at some point, when I could finally let them go and move on. 

Then my hair grew back and I think I fell back to comfort. I stopped being brave because that was taxing in itself, saying things out loud, then re-running scenes in my head for the days following. Silence has always been my comfortable solution. As a kid I would write in my little notebooks, “Be quiet, and you won’t get in trouble” I think of the times I would boil in anger upon my return home from school to see my mother sitting on the couch hand in hand with her boyfriend watching tv. I always said nothing and went upstairs to start my homework. I think of all the times he was invited to move back in after one of his anger episodes and I would just be silent. In fact, I did not speak to him for at least a month after he moved in the 3rd or 4th time, I don’t know I lost count. Instead, when things got bad, I would just run laps around the park, right across the street. I would run and keep running till I felt a little lighter, rap beats blaring in my head phones. Instead, I wrote within my journal, dramatic lines regarding my state of existence. Instead, I became consumed with the objective of moving out for college, far, far away, whatever grades and extra curricular activities were needed, to get out. I think it was a survival mechanism then of some sort, how else would I make it without a bout of yelling from my mother as a result of my indecent behavior or negligence to behave appropriately in those moments when my facial expressions betrayed me exposing my own thoughts. I suppose I felt as though the only way to be considered “good” was to just be silent. I remember my sister, much more outspoken than I ever was, had been labeled, “the drama queen” by my father. My young brain felt validated in my silence since it meant I didn't have to be the drama queen. I remember another instance where my sister had told my mother that if her boyfriend moved in again she would move in with her dad instead. My mother’s response was, “okay, then go ahead and live with your dad”. I think of how my sister and I would eventually stop going to visit our dad because we were afraid to leave my little sister alone at the house. I thought silence was the solution but I guess it was appeasement. Please everyone else and then I would be outta there. I realize now, my mom struggled then just the same as me, with her own ordeals. Just the same as every individual with a beating heart, she carried things too. But being older, I think it's best to just say both my parents did the best they knew how in those moments. Or maybe that is just me burying my frustration. The odd part is I thought this was everything I had already overcome when I shaved my head. All of it fell off with my hair. But here I am 22 years old and I still cry in the recollection of the way I existed then. 

Everything was supposed to be fixed when I left and moved over 1,000 miles away. But I never sifted through my shit, I just buried it. Honestly, at 22 years old, I can’t put my burdens on the shoulders of those before me anymore. I have reached the point where I ought to decide who I want to be and how I will get there regardless of excuses of my past. I think about the way I packed so much shit with me when I left and I only realize it now, today when I see the way it has bled into the different facets of my life. Not only am I egregiously against any form of conflict, I silence myself in efforts to keep the peace. I spew false apologies in order to reach a fast resolution. I buried myself and I didn't realize the unfairness this presents to those close to me until one of my friends noted the unfairness in assumptions I concluded rather than discussing things with them directly. 4 years of uncertainty all due to my hesitancy to speak up about something. I feel bad to think my shit had to have an effect on someone else. But I guess this is the preface to the painful process of growth. 

I severely want to shave my head again and do another hard reset, as I am 27 days until graduation and find a means to uncover myself before I go out into the world beyond my time at university. But I do like to braid my hair too, maybe I ought not take such drastic measures in efforts to appease my uneasiness. I suppose I ought to sit in all of it and figure a means to navigate the tumultuous tide of life. I don’t want to cause hurt to anyone, I would like to believe I take efforts to make sure those I am close with know just how much they mean to me. But maybe a lot of the things I keep within are the source of the label I have received as of late, “PEOPLE PLEASER” I guess that all I did was beyond efforts to keep the peace and more so efforts to appease the masses whilst I lost sight of how to maintain my own sense of self and my own sense of protection. My peace rested in the appeasement of others needs rather than my own. 

This is the growth that lies ahead, and this could require more than just a shaved head. Maybe I will let my hair grow, along with me as I attempt my best to sail the sea before me. After all it is these moments and this very sifting that presents the meaning in my existence. I think it's reasonable I feel like shit after unveiling all this. But at least this very shitty feeling is the reminder of the beating heart I possess within my chest. The reminder of my independent ability to decide what I ought to become. I am reminded of the simple things in the ways one foot hits the floor followed by the other. And amidst this existence I choose to attempt my best at living and living well. All of my living well entails a myriad of everything, everywhere, all at once, but I suppose this is the excitement in it all. 

"Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ." - Galatians 1:10