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!

Content to sit alone

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, the group of girls I considered my besties, pulled me aside on the playground one day at recess because they wanted to talk to me about something. I excitedly met them under the designated Discussion Tree, thinking there must be some exclusive secret they wanted to share with me. Wasn't I surprised to find out what they wanted to tell me was that they didn't really like playing with me that much and thought it would be better if I bowed out of the friend group. It rocked my world! I instantly wondered, "Well, who will I play with now?! Will I spend every recess for the rest of my life all alone?! And who will I sit with at lunch?!" I absorbed their message and understood immediately that I didn't fit in and that I wasn't wanted, which was especially devastating for a born people pleaser. If you've ever been a middle school or high school student or seen any movies or TV shows about people in those demographics, you understand that sitting alone at lunch is the equivalent of social death, which might as well be the equivalent of an actual slow, painful death. It hurts like hell to not be one of the chosen ones. 

I wish I could say that was the only time in my life that I felt the sting of rejection so acutely, but I can't. Not all the rejections have been quite so direct (though a few have been as direct and even more devastating), but my whole life story is peppered with chapters of not fitting in, not being chosen, being labeled the least interesting person in the room, and finding no seat open for me at the proverbial lunch table. Until recently, I let those rejections have a prominent place among the voices in my head that are already inclined to tell me I'm not good enough, that I don't measure up, that I am not worthy or valuable. I have literally puked my guts up and cried myself to sleep imagining scenarios in which I die alone--not just physically, but worse, emotionally--with no tribe to call my own and no one to validate my existence. The reason being rejected feels like death is that, from an evolutionary standpoint, humans without a tribe did not typically fair well. If the group rejected you, your odds of survival were not good. Many scientific studies have shown that lonely people have shorter life expectancies as well as an overall lower quality of life--statistics that can feel scary if you struggle to find or keep your tribe. 

But there is another side to this coin, and it's something I've been meditating on for a while now. Being kicked out of the group hurts deeply, and being rejected does feel like a type of death. BUT when you can go ahead and embrace the loneliness rather than fighting it, you actually come to a place of peace and power. When you keep waking up day after day and realizing that you are surviving the thing you thought would kill you and using that lonely time to get to really know and love yourself, it changes the whole game. At some point, you realize that you have intrinsic value, which isn't dependent on your inclusion in any particular group. Then you come to realize that it actually feels worse to force your chair up to a table where you aren't wanted or respected than it does to just sit at the next table all by yourself, reading your book and enjoying your lunch in peace. And then you become a very powerful being indeed, because you can walk into any room or any situation, knowing your own worth and being content to enjoy your own company without the need to be validated by others. You take all the pressure off yourself to fit in because you already know you are a rare species that can survive--and even thrive--on her own. (It does help if you are an introvert, who is quickly depleted by the company of others anyway.) It is pure freedom.

That certainly doesn't change the fact that humans are social creatures and are designed to make deep and real connections with one another and that we will always desire that. But it does change the way you view the seating arrangements in the lunchroom. I am at a place in my journey now where I only want to sit at tables where a seat has been saved for me and is enthusiastically pushed out for me upon my arrival. I will only sit at tables now where the faces of the others seated around them light up when I approach. Barring that reception, I will gladly sit at a table by myself. I understand my value; I like who I am; and I am not afraid of sitting alone. So unless a person can add real value to my life experience and feel genuinely excited to have me at their table, I'm better off not sitting with them. There is so much freedom and power in this mindset! I will not ever be everyone's cup of tea. There will always be people who don't think I'm fun to hang out with and don't want to "play" with me anymore. And that's okay. I don't need to be loved by everyone. I don't even need to be liked by everyone. And I don't have to take their rejection personally. It probably has more to do with them and a particular need they have than with me anyway. I just need to move on to the next table, where I can happily sit alone for a very long time, doing my own thing and enjoying my own company. But eventually, as I continue to offer the chairs at my table to others, I believe I will see my table fill up with the people who are my people--the ones who truly enjoy my presence and add value to my experience. 

By the way, if you happen to find yourself wandering around the lunchroom of life wondering if there is a place for you to sit, please know there are free chairs at my table that I'm saving for you, and I'd love to have the pleasure of your company.

Getting comfortable with the woman in the mirror

Do you ever stand completely naked in front of a mirror and examine your body with curiosity and wonder? Do you immediately avert your eyes in order to avoid your self-criticism? Do you feel uncomfortable that I just wrote "naked" and "mirror" in the same sentence? 

Unfortunately, we have all been taught to believe that our bodies are inadequate, that they don't measure up to some arbitrary, unrealistic societal standard. We are quick to see our multitude of flaws but very slow to appreciate all the ways that our bodies show up for us every single day and all the unique and glorious beauty they possess. We are occasionally motivated by what the mirror reveals to make positive changes in our lifestyles, but more often, we are simply shamed into putting our clothes on as quickly as possible and hoping no one else will notice our flaws. 

Here's another question: Do you ever look deeply into your own mind and try to examine your thoughts and feelings with curiosity and wonder? Do you look at your naked soul and ask who you really are or what you really need? Or do you immediately avert your eyes, trying not to see who is really there, trying not to know that person, trying to hide your true self from yourself and the world around you because you are so afraid you will be rejected? 

We have a tendency to zealously fill up all the moments of our days with busyness and distractions so we don't have the time or space to examine ourselves. We hold up the distorted, funhouse mirror of social media and measure ourselves against photoshopped (literally and figuratively) versions of people we don't even really respect telling us we are only okay if we think or feel or look certain ways. We are quick to dismiss or ignore our thoughts and feelings, especially the ones that don't line up nicely with arbitrary societal standards. We judge ourselves harshly and refuse to really get to know ourselves because it is kind of an uncomfortable process. And we hide ourselves away, never really knowing ourselves and not allowing anyone else to know us either. 

I have found both of these examinations very difficult in the past. I have shamed my own body and worse, I have shamed my own mind. But recently, I'm getting comfortable staring in the mirror. I'm allowing myself to sit there with myself--physically and emotionally--for as long as I need to to get comfortable with what I see, with what I feel, with who I am. I'm using the feedback not to be critical of myself but to try to know myself, to try to make improvements where I deem necessary, and to see the beauty that has been there all along.

I haven't mastered self-love or self-knowledge by any stretch of the imagination, but I do know it starts and ends in the mirror. It is only my opinion of myself that matters, and my job is to know myself intimately and love myself unconditionally. Someone else can tell me I'm physically beautiful all day long, but it will never be true until I believe it about myself. Likewise, someone else can judge my thoughts and feelings as irrational or untrue, but if I've taken the time to get familiar with myself, I will believe the truth that comes from within and not the lies that come from without. Of course, there are things I won't like, but I don't need to hide from those things. I can always choose to make whatever changes seem appropriate. But I can also choose to appreciate the parts of my mind and body that make me uniquely beautiful just as they are. However, I can only do that if I first get comfortable closely examining my stripped down self.