I've been doing a lot of thinking and analyzing and delving into the reasons behind a lot of my thoughts and actions recently. The thought that lives in the back of my mind and influences a lot of my decisions basically boils down to "make them like me." I think a lot of people have this thought for various reasons, but for me, the thought almost becomes a matter of life and death - or at least, that's what it feels like.
Let's explore that for a minute.
Often, I get emails at work that are a little upsetting. There's no real reason for them to be upsetting, but I read into them and get upset. (This is just one example of this thought; it manifests in myriad ways.) For example, someone will give some design suggestions for something I've designed and I'll become flustered or disappointed for various reasons. I know there's really no reason for this (except when people who know nothing about design try to do it, but even then, really) but I nonetheless get anxious and angry. When I look into this emotion and ask myself why it's happening, the answer that my brain produces is that other people don't respect my position.
Well, so what? They're not my boss. Not everything I make has to be the next Mona Lisa of graphic design. But it points to a deeper insecurity: maybe they don't like me.
Again, I have to ask myself why this is the case. Who cares what they think? After some thought, the emotional response that came from my lizard brain told me that it was a matter of life and death (or nearly so) that they liked me.
And after a whole lot of delving into why that was the case, I think I know why.
When I was 14, I was a goth kid. Not just a goth kid, really, but the goth kid. There were some other people in town who were different--freaks, we called ourselves; the outcasts, the weirdos, the kids who didn't like country music and wearing Calvin Klein but wanted to wear band shirts and listen to Smashing Pumpkins and Marilyn Manson. But me? I think I took it to another level. I dressed in black every day, dyed my hair black, got into Bauhaus and Sisters of Mercy, and really embraced gothiness. By the time I got to high school, there were a few more of us, but when I was in 8th grade and 14 years old, I was it.
In the small, close-minded, Jesus-loves-guns-but-hates-poor-people town in which I grew up, I was an oddity that no one really knew how to handle. I proudly wore my strangeness like a flag that I flew in front of everyone's face. And everyone hated it. In their eyes, I was the lesbian devil-worshipper that probably deserved what she got.
My 8th grade year happened to be the same year that the Columbine shooting happened. Naturally, everyone blamed goth culture, music, violent video games--everything but the fucked-up kids that actually shot up that school. It gave them yet another reason to despise me.
It probably shouldn't have come as a surprise then that on the penultimate day of my 8th grade year, I was called into the principal's office. After waiting in the lobby for a good hour at least, I was finally called into the vice-principal's office. The two vice principals (why my school had two, I don't remember) straight-up accused me of threatening to shoot up the school on the last day.
Now, not only had I never said this, but the very idea of it horrified me. Despite my hardened facade, those who knew me knew that I was actually pretty funny, somewhat snarky, and.... very sensitive. So when they stood there with concerned faces, accusing me of something I would never do--and something that potentially had legal consequences and, in my mind, would ruin my future--I started crying. Bawling. Saying "No! I wouldn't do that!" and sitting in some of the worst anxiety and despair I've ever felt in my life.
I know some people could brush this off as idiotic, small-town administrators getting unnecessarily paranoid and trying to exercise power wherever they could--because that's exactly what it was--but in my mind, they had control over my future and it was over. This was something that everyone would know and it would haunt me, always. I think that the worst part about it was that I had never felt so powerless about something that I had not done and yet still faced the consequences of. It left an emotional scar that is still with me some 18 years later.
I had to spend the remainder of that day with special ed kids because they wouldn't let me around everyone else and they couldn't contact my grandparents to come pick me up--they happened to be visiting my sick mother in the hospital all day. Finally at 4 p.m. I was allowed to walk home (I lived like literally across the street...) but only if I called the vice principal and let them know I had made it home.
That, I think, is why it's so important to my subconscious to make sure that everyone likes me. My brain made the connection that people liking you = not treating you like shit, which means that everything will be okay--they won't do anything that could potentially hurt me or my future.
A couple of years ago, I had to deal with this again with a coworker who spent her time trying to sabotage my career; it reinforced this idea. I thought, if I had just done something else to make her like me more, everything would be okay. I found out later that she had pretty much targeted everyone in the office and was just batshit crazy. Until I knew that, though, I felt the same powerlessness, anxiety, and terror that I felt when I was 14. There are few things more terrifying than not being in control of your own life.
Does anyone know what the statute of limitations is on suing a school district for damages?
