10 Things I No Longer Do As A Recovering People Pleaser

A List & Promise to My Peace

Here’s the long and short of it…

1. Pretend.

I’m allergic to pretending. It came unexpectedly and suddenly; out of nowhere and all at once. As someone for whom pretending was once the primary mode of operating, I have actually been surprised by my new thoughts and behaviors.

The type of pretending that I find completely aversive is also remarkably specific. With my daughter, make-believe moments are delicious. We bake in her plastic kitchen or we talk to the butterflies in our backyard, and our pretending is playful. It’s an avenue for imagination and creative expression. 

It’s the other type of pretend that I can’t stand. It’s walking into a room and smiling when conversations feel like dragging my sensitive self across a field of rough shrapnel. I will not fake it. I will not feign agreeability or enthusiasm. I will not brush off the ick of warped energies and emotions. Well, I will not because I cannot. 

My commitment to integrity won’t allow it.

I still frequently find myself wondering, “Lauren, can’t you just play along for fifteen minutes?” And in those moments, a steadier voice responds, “For what purpose?” I’m swiftly reminded that it wouldn’t serve mine or the other’s. 

At one time, for a long time, I showed up to every situation ready to please, armed with the tools to make anyone love me. I believed that my literal existence depended upon persuading others to see the value that I had to offer. Now, my wholeheartedness is genuine and pure: I truthfully and totally choose myself. I’m rooted in who I am and what I’m here, on this Earth, to do, and garnering validation through intricate games of pretend is a waste of my time and energy.

A divergence with my soul’s contract.

So, I choose to be known before choosing to be liked, even if that means I am known for not hiding my preferences, opinions, and discontent.

2. Explain Myself.

3. Fake Laughter.

4. Lie.

White lies, blatant lies, smudges here, and elaborate webs there. It is has all been removed. Showing up authentically means showing up as all of me, which eliminates every flavor and complicated layer of lying.

I’m currently in a weird place with social media because of this. As silly and small as it sounds, following certain accounts has begun to feel like living a lie. At the very least, the content I’m getting from those accounts isn’t conducive to the reality I’m devoted to creating. So, to help with decluttering my social space, I started an information diet.

Every day this week, I’m reflecting on and auditing one area of my life, my intake (podcasts, social media accounts, substacks, books, relationships, conversation topics, searches in google, etcetera). While I value differing opinions and thought-provoking (mentally stretching) conversations, I want every aspect of my life to reflect truth.

True being, true speaking, true feeling, true serving, true loving, true changing, true evolving. It goes on.

To help, I’m eliminating any information sources that don’t directly align with my mission and purpose in this season. Or, those that feel fear-based.

See also “Pretend.”

5. Overpromise.

6. Discount my value.

I once believed (not too long ago) that my value was contingent upon how much of myself I could give away to another. I constructed a counterfeit feeling of okayness by reading whomever I was interacting with; assuming their desires, needs, and pain points; and enthusiastically fulfilling every invisible wish.

My value was directly related to my malleability; not in flexibility but in my readiness to abandon myself and become someone else. Now, my value is inherent. I recognize the various qualities of my mind, heart, and soul — I see my uniqueness. And, I see how it adds to relationships when those relationships are aligned.

I have value. It shows up in some places and not in others. When that’s the case, I trust (or at the very least, I’m learning to) that it has nothing to do with me. It’s just not possible to be palatable to 800 billion people.

7. Respond immediately.

My closest friends understand that I come with a 1-120-hour response time. It may be five minutes or five days, but it never reflects the importance of the relationship. It’s not you, or them, it’s me. I respond when I’m ready and able to offer the most wholehearted, thought-felt reply; and when doing so won’t add to the stress, chaos, and commitments of my day or detract from focused time with my daughter.

I cherish the joy of deep friendships, and simultaneously believe that space can protect the depth and the joy.

8. Respond to attention- or advice-seeking messages.

Texts, voicemails, direct messages…you name it, I’m deleting it.

9. Drama.

I don’t care to know about what is going on with whom, and I will not match energy if it’s twisted into something ugly or reactive.

10. Seek perfection.

Once, I thought being viewed as anything less than perfect would kill me. Now, I know that perfection is a mirage and continuously searching for it will kill me. Instead, I quench my thirst for belonging with honesty, curiosity, and a commitment to openhearted learning.