Thoughts from a People Pleaser

I have always been, and may always be, a person that likes to make others happy. Of course, I like to see people happy. But when they emit joy that I was able to cause, that is where I thrive. I put great value on manners and complimenting others. Regardless of friend or complete stranger, I hold nothing back when I see something tha

t looks nice. You can find these things everywhere and on everyone if you just pay attention. It helps them to maybe see something about themselves that they had not appreciated before you drew attention to it. This gives people value they didn’t realize they had. I not only like to make people happy, but I want them to feel appreciated. I’ve never thought this to be an odd thing. I always thought that it made me genuine and real.

But this isn’t a typical value, nor is it even relevant to most of our society today.

I have struggled between low self-worth and loving my own personal attributes for my entire life. I love that I love people. I love that I try to be kind to everyone that I meet. I love that I have such compassion for people and animals that I see. Oddly, I love the empathy I feel when others feel. I love that seeing a meme or reading a story on social media reminds me of someone that might appreciate it, so I share it with them in hopes of making them smile even if I don’t know them very well. I hope that it makes them feel important in this world.

But I’ve never met anyone like me.

I have not really had anyone do these things for me. I have never felt truly appreciated or valued for all that I am. Which makes me feel unimportant. Which sends the dark thought bubble that I will never be good enough up into the air to follow behind every good thing I encounter. Believe me, I encounter some amazing opportunities. But the dark bubble looms over as a constant doubt. The idea that makes a single less-than-positive reaction from anyone at all weigh so heavy, squishing down the good reactions. I have felt congratulatory words and minor appreciations for certain things. But I’ve never felt the sincerity that I always hope for.

So why am I like this?

Why do I need to make others feel needed? Why do I try so hard, when others haven’t tried for me? Why am I constantly searching to be included, when I’m not entirely sure that I want to be a part of what I see? Why do I take the solitude so very hard? What am I doing wrong that others don’t value me the way that I do them?

Why do I blame myself?

I will never change. Acceptance is freedom in all honesty. I am often hurt. I often feel alone when I’m not. Maybe I’m not the only one. But those qualities that I love about myself are what make me who I am. Empathy and compassion are not switches that you just turn off. When I see someone happy, I am happy. When I see someone sad, I can truly comfort with my own heart, because, I too feel sad. I will be included when I find those that are most deserving of all of me. And I will feel the sincere gratitude eventually, from someone. Until that point, I will accept the goodness that I am.