Plastic

I would look in the mirror and all I could see was this plastic shell.

When I was a young girl, over time, I realized I had people pleased my way into or out of situations. At times, it would come off a bit flamboyant or overly enthusiastic in conversation, portraying a phony persona, all to make sure I didn’t disappoint someone. It’s not that my intentions were to ever forge, but to make sure I’m pleasing everyone around me.

Other times it was as poisonous as thinking I have to have intimate physical connections with every guy I went on a date with to earn a second one.

This was the old mindset. I used to feel, (especially with men), that I owed them something, even the well-rounded guy with good intentions. I felt like if he made me laugh enough, or paid enough on dinner, bought me flowers, and drinks, or spoiled me with gifts that I would have to somehow end the night by owing him a ‘reward’ and usually that was by offering sexual favor, because in my mind, guys don’t want anything else, right?

There have been times if I let a man walk me up to my apartment I felt imminent pressure to invite him in, afraid that if I said no, I’ll somehow hurt his feelings.

Those same feelings of people pleasing then move onto the kissing phase where you can guess where that leads.

These are the real and most ludicrous thoughts of a woman who has somehow misplaced the simple power of her voice. Not that I didn’t think I was valuable, but that as a woman I had not tapped into the power that my own voice held. My own individuality.

Being a mannequin sucks, it’s heavy and hollow at the same time.

I soon learned that just because I had a wonderful time with a man, that did not mean that I have to give him special privileges. A simple thank you, would and SHOULD have sufficed.

This is the thinking we as people pleasers, men and women, often times think, when misplacing our voice. I say misplacing because it was always there, just never truly discovered until reaching maturity.

People pleasing bleeds onto others by giving them a level of permission to access everything about me.

As I got older, I began to find my voice, by finding self awareness behind why I do the things that I do. Though, I have not mastered it in whole, I have developed the skills in knowing the difference of what is imperil to my identity.

Saying no without having to explain why, is one of the many habits I am still working on til’ this day, but I know enough about the differences of these actions even if they are still difficult.

In my current womanhood, I have vowed to remain abstinent and wait for the right guy, but I still find myself people pleasing at 35 years old in similar ways, not necessarily involving intimacy.

When men ask me on dates, I either do some form of ‘excuse making’ of why I can not date them, or that I am always way too busy instead of facing the reality of possibly rejecting someone. So, in my experience a person can tend to tarry on longer than I expected. I don’t seem to give away the big yellow sign that screams “ I’m not interested!”

The black and white yes or no which I struggle with giving because I can’t stomach the thought of making someone feel rejected.

I think I’m pretty cognitive of what rejection feels like all too well, that may be why I fear to inflict it on another.

Either way, self awareness is found when I dissect the heart matter of my past choices.

The voice that was lost, screamed from a distance for many years. Waiting to be heard:

“No I don’t want to kiss you”

“No I don’t want you to drive”

“No I don’t want you to walk me to my door”

“No I don’t want to attend the party”

“No I don’t want to be more than friends”

“No I don’t want to cover your shift”

“No I don’t want to text back”

“No I don’t want to drink”

“No I don’t want to date him because everybody thinks I should”

“No, I don’t have to tell you why”

I have struggled with the thought if I had found this voice sooner, who could I have influenced for the better, or who did I influence poorly without the access to my voice? I picture the image of Ariel when Ursula trapped her voice in her necklace.

This feeling of arriving late to life on some of these things can compel me to feel like I need to make up for lost time. I’m years behind in the discovery of certain things about myself.

But isn’t that the case for everyone in some aspect?

Someone recently reminded me, that we are learning things at the right time that we’re supposed to learn them. It’s never late, but right on time when we find the voice we’ve misplaced all these years.

Finding my voice furnished me with flesh and bone, and gifted a pulse in my chest.

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This is an entry to the misplaced fiction challenge : a mannequin with a voice, was inspired by the idea of how far people pleasing can go.