The Least Interesting Person in the Room

Someone once told me I would "always be the least interesting person in the room." Since this declaration was coming from someone whose opinion I cared about deeply, it was a devastating blow. It cut me to my core and rattled around pretty loudly in my head for a long time. It's been a while now since this proclamation was made, and at this point, I rarely ever think about those words that once hurt me so badly. But earlier this summer, the cruel little voice that lives in my head and sometimes speaks up when I let my guard down decided to bring it up. The words no longer have the power to hurt me, but they did make me curious.

For most of my life, I struggled to feel deeply loved or truly valued--mainly, I know now, because I struggled to love myself. And I tried to compensate for that by becoming a people pleaser. I imagined if I just gave no one a reason to not like me, then I would be protected from being unloveable. So, way back when I heard these particular hurtful words, I took them to heart, as they seemed to confirm a fear that felt like reality in my mind. I have been actively working on healing that part of my mind for years. It is a slow process, and even when I think I have arrived at complete healing, I can still sometimes be triggered by old wounds.

Lucky for me, I am now able to recognize this cruel voice for the liar it is, and I'm able to see that those words that seemed directed toward me all those years ago probably had more to do with the fears of the speaker about themself than about me. I know without a doubt that I am deeply loved by some and that to a rare few I am actually quite interesting. And, honestly, that's perfect. I am satisfied with a few really genuine connections and don't need to be liked/admired/loved/approved of by everyone. It's okay with me for some to think me the least interesting person in the room, and I do not hold that against them. I'm definitely not everyone's cup of tea.

I have been reflecting on relationships a lot lately. It is important to me to pursue healthy relationships and to show up as my best self in those relationships, so I need to spend time thinking about how to do that and what that means. Part of my reflection brought me to the statement that once hurt me so badly. There is actually plenty of truth to the statement, and I have made absolute peace with it and am so grateful it ultimately helped shatter the people-pleasing mindset I carried for far too long. To most people, I will never be the most interesting person in the room, and to some, I will certainly seem like the least interesting. I am an introvert who does not need to be the center of attention. I am no longer looking for the approval of others--only the approval of myself. I genuinely love most people, but I'm not begging them to love me back. I live a very simple life and am delighted by simple things--sunrises, sunsets, flowers in bloom, watching my kids do the things they love, beautiful words arranged well on a page, waves kissing a beach, stars stretching out across the sky. Nothing flashy, nothing dramatic. Nothing to make most attendees of a dinner party stop and take note. Nothing interesting by many people's standards. But I am happy with this way of being. I'm actually not even trying to be the most interesting person in the room, and I imagine if I had that as my aim I would just end up feeling exhausted. 

I now find it really easy to know who my people are because they are interested in me precisely because I am the least interesting person in the room. They don't need me to perform or show up big and loud and impressive. They are delighted by the simple things I'm delighted by. And they are delighted by me for being delighted by simple things. They take me as I am without needing me to be someone else, and that is such an incredible gift.  

Life has a way of self-filtering for us--taking the things that aren't good for us and leaving behind the things that are just right. It can definitely feel like a difficult process, but I am thankful I have been released by the ones who don't find me interesting and that I have released myself from needing to be interesting for them. It has freed me up to invest my energy into the people who are truly meant for me. And I can't think of anything more interesting than that!

Grief and Love

Today would have been my Grandaddy's 96th birthday, and as my Facebook memories from five years ago remind me of his last birthday on Earth, I am feeling lots of happy and sad emotions rise to the surface. We also laid my Granny to rest last week, and while we are glad she is finally free of pain, there is a pain we feel in her passing knowing we will not have the benefit of her physical presence in our lives anymore. I have so many wonderful memories with these amazing people, and I suspect the gap left by their passing will never really be filled. 

Granny's very recent illness and death have prompted some difficult conversations with my kids, and many tears have been shed in my household in the last few weeks. My youngest guy was hit especially hard by the news, and as I tried to comfort him, I heard myself saying, "When we love someone deeply, we grieve their absence deeply. So, that sadness you feel is really just the love that you have for Granny." It was then I understood that grief and love are the same thing. We only grieve deeply what and who we have loved deeply. Grief is evidence of love. I don't think any of us would want to give up the beautiful, amazing, magical feelings that come from giving and receiving love, but we often tend to try to hide from grief. We seem to think of grief as "bad" because it comes with tears and snot and wrecked mascara and an ache inside of us that doesn't feel comfortable in any way. But in this season of grief, I am realizing that love is also present, and for that I am so incredibly thankful. 

When I was with the family last week sorting through the things death forces a person to leave behind, we came across a journal where my grandmother had jotted down thoughts and quotes. None of the entries were dated, but from the pages, in her own handwriting, she was able to encourage me in my grief about her death and let me know I wasn't the first to realize the connection between grief and love. I didn't read every page of her journals, but those things that were most needed were the things that presented themselves. I will not be ashamed of my grieving or try to stop myself from experiencing it, for it only means that my heart has had the opportunity to know great love. 

Here is what I discovered in my Granny's journal, with the acknowledgement that I do not know whether she was quoting from other sources or if they were her original thoughts:

The Word of the Year

I spend a lot of time in self-examination throughout the year, trying to learn from who I've been in the past, pondering who I am in the present, and thinking about who I want to be in the future. But I spend a little extra time on those things as the year starts to wind down and a new year sits tantalizing and inviting, with all it's intrigue and potential, shyly waving me over like a new friend. I am not one for true New Year's resolutions. Rather, I constantly strive for self-improvement in incremental steps that are easier to take than the huge leaps that almost guarantee failure. But even though I'm not a true resolution girl, I have become a "word" girl. I have chosen a word (or words) for myself the last couple years--or rather the words have chosen me. In a magical process I don't fully understand, the words have come to me, and I have known with certainty that they were to be the theme of my entire year. 

My word for 2020 was "gratitude," which I received way before I knew the kind of year 2020 was going to be for me personally and for the world at large. I am certain that having that word as the backdrop for that year was instrumental in helping me survive it. 

For 2021, I was given "love" and "forgiveness." I really struggled with these words at first, but I knew I needed healing in my life and those seemed like stretch goals and therefore good ones to aim for, so I decided to fully embrace them. I assumed I would mostly need to apply them to relationships with other people, and I did have the opportunity to do a fair amount of that. But what surprised and delighted me (and made me decidedly uncomfortable sometimes) was how often I was able to apply them to myself and how very much I needed them. I have learned that loving myself--and by extension, forgiving myself--is everything. Only when I love and forgive myself can I show up for myself, my kids, my friends, my co-workers, and even perfect strangers in any sort of meaningful way. I can only truly love others when I truly love me, and after a year of digging in on that, I can say I absolutely do.

The words I've been given for 2022 are "happiness" and "joy." My understanding of the difference in the words is that happiness is more of a temporary, circumstantial experience, and joy is more of a permanent mindset which is not dependant on any particular circumstance. I'm excited to surround myself in the coming year with people and experiences that contribute to both of these. And I'm thankful I have granted myself permission to fully explore them. I want 2022 to be a year of smiles, laughter, and fun, and I want to feel a sense of joy, even during times that may feel difficult. 

It is interesting to me that the words I've been given these last few years have a cumulative effect. If I had not learned gratitude, I would not have been able to learn love and forgiveness. And without fully embracing love and forgiveness, I would not be able to seek happiness and joy. 

Do you pick a word for the year (or does one pick you)? If so, I would love to hear what your word for 2022 is or what some of your words have been in the past and the story of how they have shaped you. If not, maybe you want to consider choosing a word to act as your guide through this new year.

I wish you all kinds of hope, beauty, and magic in 2022!

I like you just the way you are

A friend of mine posted this picture on Facebook this morning, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it. First of all, I just love Mr. Rogers! I think he has a lot to teach us about kindness and inclusivity and really seeing and loving people. The first time my youngest son ever saw an episode of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, he sat there mesmerized and then said, "It's like he can see you through the TV!" I think we can all relate to wanting to be seen.

I love the quote in the above picture because I think what we all want more than anything is for at least one person to like us just the way we are--no strings, conditions, judgements, qualifiers, or need to prove our worth. This isn't the same as liking/loving someone "no matter what," because that statement implies a judgement and a disappointment. It implies that the receiver of the message messed up somehow but the giver is choosing to like them anyway, which is a form of forgiving love we all definitely need in our lives sometimes. More often than not, the receiver didn't actually mess up; they just didn't meet the giver's expectations. Love is frequently conditional on the extent to which we perceive other people meet our expectations. But what we so often lack across all of our relationships, regardless of how intimate they are, is someone who will like/love us just as we are, without trying to change us or wishing we were different in some way. There are implied judgements in almost every interaction. They usually happen automatically, without us ever thinking about them. Sometimes love is lacking completely in these situations, and sometimes the subsequent "no matter what" love follows. But I have interacted with enough people and have known myself long enough now to know for sure that what most of us would give anything for is at least one person in our lives that likes us just as we are. 

I feel like the American culture is very divisive and quick to look for things that we don't like about other people--their politics, their skin color, their sexual orientation, their religious beliefs (or lack thereof), their approach to parenting, their clothing, their ideas about how to best protect themselves during a never-before-seen global pandemic, their natural levels of anxiety (or confidence), their material wealth. The list goes on and on. In our families, we are quick to tie our affection to how people perform (or don't perform). For example, we make it clear through our body language, if not through our spoken words, that the love we have for our kids is connected with how well they perform academically, if they win at sports, whether they keep their rooms clean or help out with chores, or whether they date the people we deem appropriate. When kids don't meet parental expectations in those areas (and many others), most parents feel frustrated but offer the "no matter what" love, which, while well-intended, still often feels to our kids like judgement rather than love and leaves them feeling as if they are not good enough or that they don't measure up. Even in our own minds, we struggle to say, "I like you just the way you are." 

I believe the way we show up in the world, in our homes, and in our own minds matters. I believe the words we use are powerful. I can't control how other people show up in the world, but I can control how I do. And I want to be the kind of person who shows up and says, "I like you just the way you are." This is not something I have perfected, by any means, but it is something I'm striving for and working on every day. I would also like to challenge you to drop your expectations and be open to saying to and showing others that you like them just the way they are. See the good and be the good.