My mom and I recently made pillows together. Cloud pillows. I named them. Neil the nimbus and Connie the cumulus. If you are on the outside of things, as you likely are (the inside is really just me and mom), you might not truly feel the love infused into every single stitch. What you will notice is how absolutely adorable they are on every single level. There are a variety of details that contribute to the overall cuteness factor but one particular bit gives me the giggles every time I look at them. Ready? Their girth. That’s right. I said it. They are stuffed to the brim.
I don’t want to undersell Neil and Connie’s other qualities. They are varying shades of blue (my favorite color), adorned with tassels, buttons and patches, and are shaped like clouds (duh). However, it is their plumpness that really tickles me. They are smooshy as all get out. It’s amazing really. The best bit is that I was tasked with stuffing Connie and gave mom a good laugh when I went bonkers and THEN she stuffed Neil and followed suit. She even “warned” me that Neil was likely not going to be as plush as Connie and then voila. He’s brilliantly full; busting at the seams really.
Are you wondering if I am going to write for days about cloud pillows? I’m not. Well, I am, but it’s not what you think.
As I am a novice at pillow making, save my dabbling in such things in Home Economics in middle school, I relied entirely on Mom’s instruction when stuffing Connie. This was her guidance: “make sure you really stuff it good, and get into all the curves and corners.” I took that shit seriously. I mean, stuff it/her good? Sure. Will do.
For all of my creativity and flights of fancy, I’m quite literal when it comes to instruction of that nature. If I’m being tougher on myself, I will tell you that I think this is a good girl kind of thing. Not that I’m so good, but I’m accustomed to doing what is expected of me.
When it comes to stuffing Connie, there was no real harm. I mean sure, mom had to patch some of the corners to prevent spillage but generally speaking, all good. It’s where I take the same approach to other parts of life where things get a bit murky.
I think I’ve divulged to you all before that I am not a people pleaser. In fact, I tend to struggle with that personality type. Try as I may, I find myself feeling a combination of annoyed, exasperated, and also a little jealous when I run into those folks. On some level, I recognize that their journey can sometimes be a bit easier than mine and while that’s not something I aspire to, it is something that sounds kinda nice on certain days. You feel me?
Bottom line is that what I am describing to you is not the art of people pleasing. I am not doing something in accordance with instructions so as to please people around me. I perform the way that I do because someone has advised that in order to achieve success in _______, ______ must be done. My driven nature is what gets me there. I want to feel accomplished and for that reason, I devote myself to the art of doing things as one should.
It’s funny really because in so many parts of my life, I’m rather unconventional. I haven’t followed the typical plan, whether by design or accident. And yet, when it comes to getting from point A to point B in many areas of life, I tend to follow the path most taken.
I’m going to get off topic for a moment, but also not. I am going to tell a story but as per usual, I will get back to where we just left off. Trust, my people. Trust.
A friend of mine was telling me that she was invited to a small gathering. Very small. Yoga folks. She was not inclined to go, but when the host reassured her that the group was small and no offense would be taken in response to social distancing and wearing a mask (and not eating), she decided to give in and go. Of course, and I imagine this will come as no surprise, there was a guest at this particular gathering who was disdainful of mask wearers. She was very vocal about how ridiculous and oppressive she thought the whole “mask wearing business” is generally.
My friend was so upset because she said she felt trapped. She wanted to just get out of there. She didn’t want to confront this woman. She didn’t want to engage in debate. She didn’t want to defend herself. She just wanted to exit.
I asked why she decided to go to this gathering from the get go. Before she could respond to my question, I offered the following: I told her that I have, from time to time, found myself in a position where I crave proving that I have gotten to a certain point in my spiritual evolution. I tell myself that I am strong/brave/resilient/intelligent enough to handle __________. I tell myself that if I opt out of whatever the thing is, I’ll have branded myself as a failure. Failure to launch. Failure to thrive. Failure to grow. Failure to succeed. I told her that my fear of failing is nearly paralyzing and so, I’ve found myself saying yes to things where I just want to say no. I told her that this is something I’ve struggled with for some time now, and I’m finally doing the work to exit this paradigm.
She breathed a heavy sigh into the phone and told me that’s exactly what it was; that’s why she said yes when she wanted to say no. She knew this woman would be difficult and she knew she would be uncomfortable, but she wanted to show that she could ‘handle it.’ She asked how I was moving away from those feelings.
I was honest. I told her I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t have a formal plan. I’m not using a coach. I just said that I ask myself routinely what will happen if I say no. What happens if I decide that it doesn’t really matter if I say no? Does that automatically make me a failure OR does it make me a rapid self-preservationist? I’ll opt for the latter, thanks so much.
What if the greatest form of self-love we can exercise is the art of ‘no thank you’? What if the real win is not sitting in tough situations and getting by, but knowing when the struggle isn’t really worth it at all?
My ‘following all the instructions’ personality would tell me to say yes. It would guide me towards the discomfort, telling me that I can prove that it is no big deal. I will stuff my self to the seams, with anxiety, apprehension, sadness, and regret. I will stuff and stuff like it’s going out of style. I will not give myself a reprieve or decide that I know better what’s good for me.
Or at least that’s what I used to do. These days I stuff my pillows full, but when it comes to me, I leave room. A comfortable amount of space to give myself ample room to grow and move. It doesn’t always feel natural, but it definitely feels better.
You know what I mean?
Happy Monday.
Talk to you tomorrow.
L.
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