By the time you get old, you will have been disillusioned many times. This can be a good thing. To illustrate from my own experience:
Disillusionment #1
In my twenties, I was proud to call myself a perfectionist. One day my boss, smiling sadly, told me perfectionists fear criticism. The words rang true and he knew it. Humiliated, I slunk back to my desk.
But there were bigger lessons ahead.
Disillusionment #2
I could always work with difficult people. They saw something in me, and nobody else would put up with them. Sure, it took a lot of time, so I had to bring work home because I fell behind at the office, but I felt good about myself. I felt special. Important. Years later, a therapist said I tolerated those people because I was trying to replicate my unsatisfactory relationship with my tyrannical and violent father. Normal people, said the shrink, wouldn’t put up with that treatment because they have good boundaries. They value their time. You don’t.
Oops.
Disillusionment #3
In my late thirties, I married a guy who was underemployed but I figured things would improve. Wrong. He was jobless for years, always with some excuse. He placated me by doing the laundry and making dinner, and telling me I was pretty and talented. Later I found out he was selling drugs and screwing other women during the day while I was at the office. When we had our last fight, he said he’d married me because he deserved not to have to work. “I earned you,” he said.
Filled with grief and feeling like a complete failure (and idiot), I divorced him. I still didn’t understand what I missed. Then I read the book The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout. She said sociopaths target people who are mindlessly, hopelessly helpful. The ones who do it without thinking about it much.
Okay. That helped.
Finally, I see the light
Then I married a man who showed me you could be a good person without being a doormat. I realized part of the reason I had always rescued everybody was because it fed my ego to do so. I never asked myself if people were as good to me as I was to them, or why I was sacrificing myself for others without any reciprocity. I realized helping people gave me a sense of importance.
So in my mid-forties, I finally rejected the self-serving role of hero. Now, at fifty-nine, I’m an average Jane and that’s okay. Although my history is a bit grim, there may be parallels for your life.
If you often feel drained by other people, here’s a tip: when you’re asked to help or sacrifice, take a little chance, not an irrevocable commitment. Then look for reciprocity – time, effort, career help, etc. The next time they ask, respond accordingly.
I understand there’s a bit of risk in this approach. Not everything comes out evenly, and compassion is good. Also, the plan gets a little wobbly when you’re dealing with children or young people because they’re not fully formed. I cut them more slack than mature adults. Bottom line? Know why you’re doing something; dig deep.
You are every bit as precious as the next human. Treasure yourself.
That is what disillusionment taught me.
Hi Lynne,
Boy, did this ever hit the nail on the head today. It’s taken me 67 years to come to the point where I can say no calmly and without guilt. I couldn’t do that before, even when I knew I was being used, exploited and taken advantage of. You don’t get much validation when you decide to stop playing the sacrificial lamb. I may print this post out and hang it on the wall above my desk. Thank you!
I’m glad it resonated, Deb. I think we’re all in the same boat to some extent. The more we talk about it, the more that seems true. Thanks for stopping by.
Great post, Lynne. As women, we are torn between our need to connect and nurture others and carve out time for ourselves without feeling selfish. So glad you have found the balance and a man, like Bill, to make up for that scumbag before.
XOXO, Pat.
Enjoyed reading this thought provoking post. My mantra now includes this sentence: “You are every bit as precious as the next human. Treasure yourself.”
Glad you enjoyed it, Long Island Pen. Isn’t it amazing how we sometimes have to be told to do this? After a lifetime of indoctrination, we sometimes forget. Thanks for stopping by.
Thank you for this enlightening post. I agree that as women many of us were taught to smile and not make a fuss. Hopefully our daughters and granddaughters will be wiser.
Sandra, I hear myself talking to the 2 1/2 year old, and I wonder if I’m messing her up because it’s all I know. We’re all products of our environment. If I teach her to be nice, will she learn to sublimate her own needs, too? It’s a bit of a quandary.
Very succinct and brutally honest, Lynne. Sometimes, don’t you wish we knew back then what we’ve learned today, so we wouldn’t have to go through all that pain?!
I kind of wish I had been smarter, Debbie, from the start. Sometimes I look back and can’t BELIEVE the choices I made. But it is what it is. You know the old saying: Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted.
Wow, here is something to be said about getting old(er) and you hit it right on the head!
Exactly, Debra! Good to be older.
Lynne– you are a few steps ahead of me on this journey. I am on the brink of understanding a few of the truths that you have learned through hard experience. There is no easy way to learn these lessons. I’m grateful for what you have shared here. Thanks for your generosity of spirit. I’ve been blessed to get to know you a bit through the blogosphere.
Melanie, I was going to say I’m glad you are ON the journey, but then thought, not at the expense of your heart. I don’t want you to suffer. Maybe at our age we’re clever enough to learn from each other without actually going thru the pain! Blessed to know you too, my friend.
How insightful Lynne, especially when you’ve come to have the insight about yourself – that’s hard to do. But so wise. And opens the way, as I’m sure you’ve experienced, to live a more congruent, peaceful, joyful life.
Barbara, it’s good to be older. We should be a point where we know so much more about ourselves, and have more mental strength.
Lynne, you are an inspiration to all of us who have had our light hidden under the tyrannies of others and yes have been embarrassed, ashamed, afraid all of the above to say so, and hopefully those of us who’re still suffering under those tyrannies can find the courage to step into the light.
I’m so glad I found you and your writing.
Deb
Thanks, Deb. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit some of these things, but the longer I live, the more I find I’m not the only one! Very comforting.
“You are every bit as precious as the next human. Treasure yourself.”
It takes courage to reach that level of knowledge of the inner self.
An excellent lesson for the day. thanks
Kind of you to say so, Elizabeth. Thanks for coming by.
This comment is from Kathy Pooler, who emailed me that her comment refuses to post: “Wow, Lynne. Your title grabbed me and you certainly delivered in this post. I can relate and it’s so nice to be on the other side of all that disillusionment. Right on target with your saucy wit and humor. I love it!”
Lynne,
Thank your so much for participating in our project, you are a wonder! And I love your voice and sense of humor. I am waiting for your new book “Dakota Blues” to arrive (from Amazon) for my summer reading.
Blessings,
Heather
(From Shadow to Seen)
My pleasure, Heather. I hope you love DB.
Bingo! How many times have I dated, married, lived with and endure individuals because my own sense of value was less than? Even dealing with grown children there comes a time when we have to stop and reevaluate if what we are giving of our selves is a)appreciate b)an attempt to make up for something we failed to do before c)because we ourselves don’t actually believe we deserve better?
As always Lynne I appreciate your wisdom and humor to life and the profundity of growing up – after fifty.
Shawn, at least we get to grow up eventually. Thank God our brains clear after the kids are raised (as per the theory espoused by Dr. Christiane Northrup.) I think we’re taught to be nurturing, and that’s wonderful! – to a point.
Love you Lynne, you have taught me so much and I love your writing .. Sincerely, Jan Carlsen
Love you back, Jan! Hope you are feeling better and enjoying life.
Oh boy, seeing lots of parallels here. Thanks for such an insightful post. Laura
Laura, Mimi, and Donna, I
wonder ifsuspect that we women are taught something early in life that creates this unintentional vulnerability.I have a hunch this resonates with many – I know it is echoing in my head as I write this. Boundaries – sigh…
Thanks, I needed that.