When I had kids, I stopped being a people-pleaser
When I was in kindergarten, I received a note on my report card that said I talked a little too much during school. It broke my heart. Five-year-old me vowed I would never break the rules. I would never disappoint anyone. I would be perfect. I became a very good girl, a pleasure to have in class—a people-pleaser.
Countless times growing up, I would do what I was supposed to do rather than what I wanted to do. I let guilt trips and manipulation win. I didn’t want to make anyone mad. I didn’t want to rock the boat AT ALL. If I did what I knew they wanted, I kept everyone happy. Everyone, except me, it seems.
When I had kids, however, something shifted inside me. While I hadn’t really cared about standing up for myself before, I now cared very deeply about standing up for my children. Sometimes this meant making choices, saying things or doing things that other people didn’t agree with. And sometimes, people would choose to feel upset about my choices, actions or words.
This made me uncomfortable. I would have loved it if everybody could have gotten along! However, compromising my values to please others was no longer acceptable. Having kids introduced a season of tough conversations, where I expressed my feelings with respect and honesty. I set firm boundaries to protect my family and my mental health. I constantly reminded myself that I wasn’t responsible for others’ feelings. As Dr. Henry Cloud stated in “Changes That Heal,” I couldn’t make people mad at me. I didn’t have that power—their feelings of anger were their own choice.
I encountered these challenges when navigating varying opinions on parenting during a global pandemic. I encountered them when navigating others’ demands of my children’s friendship. I encountered them when family relationships began to deteriorate over unacknowledged, sometimes truly life-or-death problems. And again, when expectations, both mine and other’s expectations of me, were unrealistic and unfair.
These scenarios impacted my children, my husband and me, and, to protect us all, I would have the same hard conversations a million times over. I believe that problems can be solved with communication. I don’t believe ignoring real issues for the sake of “peace” leads to any good, change or healing. It never feels like peace to anyone involved.
However, it’s important to note that these conversations don’t always result in positive outcomes where everyone leaves feeling good just because someone was brave enough to broach the topic. Many times, people are upset that we’re having the conversation at all or that I’m not saying what they want to hear. Regardless, if it’s an important conversation to protect my family, I’m going to have it.
As a former people-pleaser, it saddens me to realize that there are people in my life who don’t like me. Oof. It still feels like a punch to the stomach for that to be my reality. But I also know that I am a more authentic version of myself than I ever was before.
This doesn’t mean I’m a bulldozer, ignoring other people’s feelings. In fact, I take great care with how I approach hard conversations, making sure that I’m not wounding someone with thoughtless words designed to win an argument but not solve a problem. This new version of me is kind and honest. This version of me is not a doormat. My children absolutely deserve more from me than that.
With this new version of me, not everyone is going to like me. But I like myself. I feel strong and feel confident with my choices. And when a hard conversation hurts my heart, I surround myself with the people who love me—friends and family who are safe, kind and authentic—and I feel peace. Not the peace from silence and avoidance, not the peace of making some family member, stranger or random neighbor happy at my expense, but the peace of knowing, in my heart, I am loving my family well.
