Years ago, I was a caregiver to a fault. I had a knack for giving the perfect gifts. I was constantly anticipating the needs of others, to help them before they even had to ask for my assistance. I even changed the way I spoke around people as to edit out the parts of a story that might not interest them or might bother them. In this way, I was not being honest with myself - I was showing up in the world as I thought others wanted me to be, not as who I authentically was. I tried to be the perfect girlfriend by memorizing facts about the sport teams my guy was following of T.V. I pierced my top earlobe because the man I dated thought it was sexy. I bought myself an awkward heavy mountain bike because he liked to bike. Biking was sweaty, and frustrating and hurt, but I wasn’t honest about that with myself, I was pretending it was fun.
I had a wake up call one Christmas. I was dating the mountain biker at the time, and I had ordered him a very rare vintage specialty bike with fantastically cool details that mean nothing now. This beautiful sleek bicycle represented 98 percent of my paycheck for the month, but it was just what he wanted. I spent hours assembling the bike and creating the perfect timing to surprise him with my excessive gift.
That Christmas, my boyfriend was very pleased and surprised, and I was also surprised when he mentioned sheepishly that he had forgotten to get me a present.
While eating ramen noodles every meal for the entire month (because after the bike purchase, I had no funds for more than that) I had some time to reflect. I stared into my noodle bowl night after night and realized that something felt very wrong about the lack of reciprocation in the area of giving in my relationship. At first, I blamed my boyfriend. Many noodle bowls later, I did the hard thing and faced myself. I stepped back to see the big picture and realized he may be under-giving, but I was over giving. Why? Immediately, I claimed I gave because I loved him. But the truth was harder to admit: I, myself, wanted to be loved. I felt that the only way to be loved was to give to someone. If I met his needs, then I felt needed. If he needed me, he would not leave me. My own insecurities were fueling my obsession with giving to others.
Getting out of this mindset involved trusting the knowledge that I was enough. I was worthy of love as who I was, not for what I gave to someone. I also had to get to a point of trusting that I would be okay if we stayed together, and I would be okay if we separated.
I had to ask if I was being honest with myself. Was I living my life according to what others would accept, or was it really what I wanted to do?
If I wanted to be loved for who I truly was and not what I could do for someone, I needed to ask, is the real me showing up to be loved? I had to be able to accept and love that girl before I’d be comfortable presenting her to another person.
Another long term lesson was how to care about someone and take care of them without crossing a boundary of caring less for myself. To care for them without sacrificing or changing myself.
One of the most valuable pieces of advice I ever received from my life coach was a metaphor. Imagine that you wake up every morning with one full glass of water. This is your energy for the day. When you get dressed and brush your teeth, you are using a little of that water. When you pick up the phone to talk to a friend, you are using some of that water. When you do things for others, you are pouring energy into their cups. If you are worrying about something, that takes away some of your water. If you are someone who is constantly thinking of, taking care of and doing things for others, then by the middle of your day, your ability to do things is exhausted, your cup is empty and there is no energy left for yourself. As an often dehydrated person, after hearing this metaphor, I tried to be consciously aware of how much energy I spend on myself and others and find a way to maintain a balance.
We teach others how to treat us. If we consistently take on all the household chores, we are teaching them to rely on us to always do these. If we do not value our needs and put ourselves first, they will think we have no needs. If we are not aware of our own needs, how can they possibly be met by another?
In a way, being honest with myself extended to many unexpected areas of my life. For one thing, I ate better because I didn’t spend my entire paycheck unnecessarily making someone else happy. I had a new beloved friend and I knew her true likes, dislikes and her needs. And I traded that heavy, much-loathed mountain bike for a lifetime supply of double fudge brownies because honestly, I love them.
