I’m going to do a little weaving experiment. I’m going to take two different thoughts and try to put them together. Let’s see if this works.
Warp: There’s a Frasier episode where a focus group listens to his radio show. 19 people love the show, one doesn’t. Frasier is unable to accept the fact that one person doesn’t like his show.
I think we all want to be liked. I’m guessing it’s a survival instinct: if people like us, we are more likely to survive. Most people do not go out of their way to be miserable to others (except my MIL who will go to ends to make my life a living hell)
But has liking become an obsession?
Have we made the “like” button essential to our self confidence?
Weft: I was recently talking to a blog friend. We discussed how difficult it can be to write about personal issues, because we don’t know how it will be received by our readers. We worry about being liked if we share too many things about our lives.
I try to be very honest in my blog. I am trying to accept myself, be happy with me. This starts with honesty. When I write I share my frustrations and vulnerabilities. I share my high points and the things that make me happy. I do this at the risk of being mocked, of being scorned, of being debased. Yet, I do it anyway.
Because I spent a good deal of my youth being dishonest. Dishonest with those around me, but more importantly, dishonest with myself. I was so intent on being liked, that I would morph myself into what was expected of me. I tried to be the daughter my parents wanted, the sibling my sister wanted, the friend, the girlfriend, the roommate…You get the idea. I tried to be everyone except myself.
This is not a good lifestyle choice.
Then one day I decided that I was good enough just as I was. (score one for maturity and wisdom with age) I didn’t need to be anyone else. I needed to be me, whether or not people liked me. People liking me wasn’t going to help my self esteem if I didn’t like myself. So I began my journey to be true to myself.
When I blog I tell you how I’m feeling. This is not easy: exposing yourself to the world is not easy. But it makes me stronger. Every time I tell you how I feel, I feel a little better about myself. This is me. This is who I am. Accept me, don’t accept me. It doesn’t really matter what you think of me. I know what I think of myself, and I like it.