I just read the short story Tender by Cherline Bazile. I’m a great lover of short stories for so many reasons, and I desire to write them well, but alas, I’d have to condense my words and thoughts and that is not a forte of mine.
Anyway, I digress.
I don’t want to give away too much, as the story should really be experienced firsthand, but I was so taken with two particular lines, as follows: “What part of me displeased her? Could I carve it out, little by little?”
I know, you are likely confused. Give me more, you’re screaming in your head. How could you possibly understand this in a meaningful way without context? Oh, you can. I did. I do.
Why? Well, because I have committed to this self-destructive practice for most of my life. I have whittled away parts of me to try and better accommodate those around me. I want to be clear that this has nothing to do with self-growth. At all. This is not the healthy and necessary practice of understanding your place in the world and all the ways in which you may be able to do better. This is not about sorting out what lessons you can learn to best serve yourself and the world around you. This is compromise so compromising that when you are done carving, there’s nearly nothing left. Just a whisper of who you were, who you used to be, before you cared more about others than you did yourself.
I would love to tell you that when I started to recognize this habit, I started working immediately on shifting. I didn’t. At all. In fact, it’s been a bits and spurts exercise for me. I’ve committed wholeheartedly to staying the course and then, just as easily, I’ve folded. It’s brutal and hard and embarrassing to share, but it’s the truth.
I am not a people pleaser, so perhaps this is where things get confusing. I am not looking to modify myself to better suit everyone. Oh no. I am only looking to change to better accommodate a chosen few. Those who I love. Those who I am attracted to. Those who I’ve found some kinship with, in whatever shape or form.
I think in many ways, this desire is more dangerous than people pleasing, or maybe, just equally damaging. The investment is more significant. A people pleaser wants everyone to like them. It’s tragic to imagine dislike coming from a single person, but if that occurs, there is a calculation. There is a ratio consideration. One out of fifty or one hundred ain’t bad, right? But what if the concern revolves around a very small inner circle? What if the stakes are higher because you can’t afford to lose that one person, not when they are one out of four?
But can’t you? What does that really look like? Well, it’s a threat of loneliness and desolation. Right?
There is a spiraling that tends to happen in these situations, or at least I’ve found that to be true. We don’t test the waters, at all. We assume doomsday. We presume worst case scenario. We just imagine that it’s going to be the most tragic of circumstances. You know what’s funny, not funny? The bottoming out is usually something we can’t fathom facing or surviving. I can’t lose that person because it will ruin my life, my plans, my future thoughts.
Historically, I rarely took a step back to attempt to ground myself. I didn’t allow preemptive grief to singe the corners of my heart.
I want to pause for a moment and tell you that I am not talking about compromise. I am, but I’m not. I’ve written about compromise before. Compromise can mean giving things up, and sometimes, nearly everything, but compromise is concession.
Carving is ruin. Carving is elimination. Carving is invisibility. A magic show that ends in devastation. Only. There is not an ask. There is not a discussion. There are no terms to consider. It is only the process of slicing away, based on perception. Based on the what ifs and could be-s.
I know this all feels so nuanced. How do we understand the difference to move forward?
My ex did not want physicality, for years. A compromise would be a different sort of intimacy. That may not have been what I wanted, but it would have been something. A thing. A mutually agreed upon thing. There was no compromise. There was nothing less than. There was nothing. And then, I chipped away the parts of me that told me I needed something. I surgically removed the part of my heart and soul and brain that told me I wanted to be hugged and kissed and touched. I became something different, something smaller.
Do you see the difference? Is it clear?
When we compromise too much, we feel compromised. When we carve pieces of our being away, we lose our starting point. We become empty shells.
Is this just a tale of how we annihilate ourselves? Absolutely not. I’m feeling optimistic. Hopeful.
What if the answer to the question of “could I carve it out….?” is NO! I can’t. I won’t Instead, I will sit with the discomfort of someone else’s displeasure. I will keep myself whole with the understanding that if someone cannot accept the whole of me, I will not allow them to have my parts. I will not piecemeal myself for the sake of peace or friendship or love or whatever that looks like or feels like.
I don’t think carving is solely a trait or characteristic of women, but as I am a woman, I can tell you that we do it a lot. Often.
This is so challenging but consider this: what if someone told you that they’d like you better if you cut your arm off? This is not a knock on those without arms. This is an exploration as to whether you would decide to remove your arm FOR the sake of someone else and their feelings towards you. Would you?
I wouldn’t. I have. It didn’t work for me. I won’t anymore. I like my arms too much.
You?
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