the version of me i think you want to hear
An infant only knows screaming as a means to communicate their frustration, for the connection of words to emotions has not yet occurred. I assume the thoughts of such a small brain can not comprehend this lack; even if they could, the memory eventually shrivels to nothing, replaced by words like “sad”, “confused”, and eventually, “pissed off”. But before that, every feeling other than joy is dispatched to all ears nearby through a piercing, yet tender screech. Those in range to hear subconsciously crinkle their brows and bow their heads in appreciation, hopefully in acknowledgment of their own mother's past frustrations… So, the interpretation of the child’s scream is left to the beholder; in most cases, this role lies in the hands of the mother.
My own mother took on a different approach to my confusion, completely exhausted by child three (especially because I did nothing but scream). As age attempted to force words out of my mouth, the phrase "I don't know" became a safe haven; in my mind, it was the perfect replacement for a scream. However, this did not satisfy the itch in my mother’s brain — how hard was it for me to just know? If the basic formula for a conversation is a topic that all parties contribute their thoughts to, why was it so hard to configure my thoughts to her? It seemed that in my brain, the replacement of words for frustrated infancy sounds did not occur; whatever I did end up coming up with, would never suffice.
Fear of “I don’t know” created a hazy cloud of doubt over my internal world – the potential of not having the answer loomed over my head like thick smog, suffocating any confidence I had in decision-making. So to reduce potential harm, I adapted to read people’s expectations of me and what role I played in their minds. Someone else’s needs and desires from life always took precedence over my own, so I stopped asking myself what I truly thought altogether. Pleasing people was not just a coping mechanism for me — I didn’t know how to communicate without it…
fight, flight, freeze… fawn?
It was not until a month or so ago that I came across the term “fawning,” and I realized my mannerisms were not just the side effect of being kind, but a whole illness in themself. Fawning is defined as trying to please or appease the threat to avoid conflict or harm. It is the forgotten counterpart to fight, flight, and freeze. Upon discovery of this word, I evoked a private investigation into each and every aspect of myself, and an identity crisis, if you will, but each identity seemed just as plausible as the next.
However, I was able to sort through these tendencies that aligned with this term fawning, and as the first step is admittance, here is mine.
finding 1: I always convinced myself that my memory must simply be fried. But the reality is, there were too many opinions and short-lived lives to remember that were not mine.
Things I forget to say (or simply couldn't figure out how to in time) mold into others' perceptions of me. I sit there and watch as the clay dries, hopelessly trying to find a better tool for them to use, coming up short, and then drinking coffee out of the fucked up clay mug the next morning. This exact inability to explain my thoughts and feelings to others has mapped out the way that I sculpt my own life.
finding 2: Consistently and forgivingly inconveniencing myself at the expense of others’ convenience brought me what I thought was joy.
I’m sorry.
The release of tension that I mistake for joy lies in my accommodation of others. In my mind, the less I did to make sure someone was happy, the wider the margin for anger, rejection, and disapproval got.
Did I mention I was also sorry?
finding 3: I can sense that the glass is going to be shattered on the ground before the hand even moves to knock it off. I then use whatever is necessary to stabilize the situation before it falls.
While I will admit that this skill has gotten me out of a lot of trouble in the past, it also sometimes creates problematic situations out of thin air; I like to think of myself as a fortune teller. One that often occurs is a need to fill the silence after someone speaks — like the silence is a wounded animal in the middle of the room, and if I don’t rush in to scoop it up, it’ll just lie there suffering while everyone pretends not to see it.
I also have this horrible tendency to predict what someone is thinking; most of the time, it’s that there is something wrong and that it is probably my fault (it usually never is).
finding 4: I lied
When someone asks me on the spot, “What’s your favorite book?” it is not as simple as me thinking of all the books I read and picking my favorite. It’s fighting off the conditioned pattern my brain runs on, shaped by years of fawning, which is:
1. Analyze who is asking me the question.
What do I know about them and their interests? Is there a specific answer that I could say that would align me better in the view they have of me to prevent a potential disruption?
2. Decide if I want to lie about it or not.
I am not proud of this, but I will admit that many times I have said that I liked or knew something just to prevent backlash that came from me not knowing. Similarly to my mother's disapproval when I did not know, people seem to take great offense when I am not able to connect with them on a certain song, movie, pop-culture reference, actor, etc, because I am not aware of it. There's also often teasing and claims of stupidity and ditzy-ness that follow, which lying also allows me to prevent.
3. Make my decision and say it out loud.
Usually with the least amount of detail as possible to avoid any more questions that could start the process all over again.
Writing as the purest translator of my screams.
Unlike the rapid-fire demand of a conversation, writing gives me the time I need to think and sort through the parts of myself that are truly me vs. the parts I have made for others… It is an ability to use words in ways I never have been able to because of my frustratingly limited capacity for conversation. It is a safe place for me to work through and manage my own thoughts without the fear of others’ opinions hindering what truly aligns with me. And if you’re reading this and questioning if I have ever lied to you, the answer is most likely yes. But I assure you, I will always tell the truth about things of importance, and this is also an extremely focused explanation of what is going on in my head.
Anywayssss… My hope is that maybe someone reading this has felt something similar. Also, that you might take a bit of time to ponder if you’ve been people pleasing a bit too much. I’ve started compiling a list of my enjoyments that I carry with me throughout the day. This has helped me sort through a lot of the falsehoods of what I thought was me.
That's all I got, I think? Hmmm..
Anyways, I hope you have a good day,
-Hope Joy
The brain to the blog <3
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