I was standing in the back of a crowded room when it hit me.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I spend so much time with all the people here, but I still feel alone. I bend over backward to make all of them happy, and they do seem happy. But I don’t feel any happier. It’s never enough. It’s never over.
I would say this is what being a conman must feel like— except professional imposters get paid for their work. When I say what I know someone wants to hear though it’s not what I believe, their smile isn’t mine. The praise they give me isn’t mine. They’re reacting to a facade that I’ve created, not the real me. I’ve been hiding from rejection for so long that the version of me I created to fit in doesn’t even look like me anymore. So…am I actually fitting in? Or am I just good at buying praise and attention from people by putting on a metaphorical costume?
I want to be recognized for being honest. I want to be accepted for saying what’s really on my mind. I want to know that when the mask comes off and I’m not trying to be accommodating anymore, you’ll still be there for me. I want to know that when I’m not going out of my way to put on a show anymore, you’ll still love me.
Being the court jester is a full-time job with no benefits. I give myself no breaks, no vacations, no paid time off or sick days. When we turn on a movie, I’m not even watching it. I’m watching the people around us to make sure they’re content. I’m constantly watching the people around me to make sure when they look at me they like what they see. I sleep less to make sure the way I look when I walk out the door is satisfying to everyone else. I don’t have time to talk about what’s bothering me because I’m too busy being the shoulder to cry on. I have no time to ask for what I want because I’m too busy saying yes to what everybody asks me to do for them.
On airplane safety cards they tell you to always put on your own gas mask before helping the person next to you in the event of a disaster. I never liked or understood that rule, until now. I always thought it was cruel and backward, to risk a child passing out while you first try to save yourself. But I’ve been trying so hard to please other people first by ignoring myself for so long it’s getting hard to breathe. I can’t save anyone else if I don’t start by saving myself.
Maybe that’s how I ended up here, at a party I didn’t want to attend, in clothes that aren’t comfortable, drinking a flavor I don’t like, spending time getting hit on by people I don’t want to see. Deciding to please someone else seems like such a small thing at the moment, but I didn’t realize I was making that decision about a hundred times a day. I didn’t realize that slowly I had changed everything about myself to appease other people. The people I try to make happy with my choices aren’t there when the makeup comes off, and the lights go out—I am. I don’t know what makes me happy anymore. I’ve spent all of my time keeping track of what other people imply they want from me instead.
It was in that moment that I just walked out the door. I pulled an Irish Goodbye, just like that. No more explaining myself to avoid judgment. No more making empty excuses that weren’t true. I want to genuinely care about how my friends are feeling and be someone they can all depend on. I can’t do that when I don’t know myself anymore. I walked away from the need to make other people happy. Happiness is a choice. I can only make that decision for myself; it’s not my job to try to force happiness on anyone else.
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About The Author: Faith Yeon writes online content for websites specializing in mental health and social commentary. She sets herself apart with her ability to approach otherwise taboo or intimidating topics with a conversational and relaxed tone. Faith’s favorite TV shows are The Path and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Her motto is: “That which does not kill you gives you anxiety and fun stories to tell at parties.”
