Some days I wonder about nature versus nurture. Was I born a people pleaser or was there some aspect of the nurturing I received or didn’t receive that resulted in my wanting to please everyone in my life?
My parents were divorced when I was two and they both remarried within a year or two. My siblings and I lived with our mom and step-dad, though we also visited our dad and step-mom with regularity. Eventually, our dad and step-mom moved to New York City while we remained in Michigan and then moved to California. There were five of us kids who were from that first marriage, two boys and three girls, and on rare occasions we went to visit our dad and step-mom all at the same time.
Real estate in Michigan was vastly different than real estate in New York City. In Michigan we lived in a three story house that felt like a mansion. The lawn in the front yard seemed to go on for acres though, when I visited as an adult, it was in reality not an overly large yard. The feeling was one of vast space. When we went to New York to visit our dad and step-mom, it felt like visiting another planet. The people were strange, the buildings were strange, there were cars everywhere, noise that was constant, people in huge crowds, and heat or cold that was oppressive with not much in between. They lived in a brownstone and I honestly don’t know how we all fit in it together. Looking back, I understand why my step-mom kept us so busy during the day when my dad was at work! We walked our legs off all over the city and there were times when it felt like forced marches. My step-mom was wiser than I could have imagined at the time. If we had not gotten out of the brownstone, one or more of us might not be living to tell about it today. It took many years for me to feel comfortable in my skin in New York City. Rather than absorbing the excitement, I found myself almost paralyzed by fear. There were times when I thought I might drown in the lake of differences between me and every other person rushing around the City. One such visit stands out in my mind.
On this particular visit, my dad and step-mom sat us all down at the beginning of the week and told us that they would need our utmost cooperation. The space was small and we were loud and growing and often bumping into each other and not always accidentally. They told us they had decided to offer a reward at the end of the week for the child who was most helpful to them. This included helping with meals, doing dishes, cleaning up and getting along with the other kids. The reward was going to be an entire box of chocolates. As a seven year old, an entire box of chocolates sounded just like winning the lottery. From the minute they dangled the reward in front of our faces, I was hooked. Completely. From deep inside of my soul, I wanted nothing more than to hear at the end of the week that I was the most helpful. Determined, committed, persistent, driven, and discplined, I focused all of my hopes and energy on pleasing them the most.
Not once did I ever get a glimpse from any of my other siblings that they had their eye on the prize as well. In fact, a couple of days into the week the squabbling began and fights bloomed and while I worried incessantly about not being the most pleasing, they seemed to have forgotten the contest. Every meal I made sure I offered my help, in between meals I offered to join in cleaning up (not my favorite or best skill), and I did my level best to avoid being in the middle of any of the teasing or squabbling that went on steadily. The big day finally arrived. Our dad and step-mom sat us down together on the living room couch and after what I was sure was a drum roll (although possibly only in my head), they brought out the box of chocolates and announced that I was the winner! YES! I was declared the most helpful during the week-long visit. In my mind, that translated to mean I was the most pleasing of all of the siblings. The chocolates weren’t my favorite (I am not a fan of fruity stuff in the middle of chocolate), but who needed chocolate when the title of “Most Pleasing” had just been bestowed? What I thought was going to be deep disappointment by all of my siblings who “lost”, was in fact what appeared to be indifference. How could they not care that they had not been as pleasing to our parents?
And thus, the question of nurture versus nature. Fortunately, after many years of therapy, spiritual seeking, spiritual direction, al-anon and just plain growing up, I think I have turned the corner of wanting to be the most pleasing. At age 49 and holding, I can honestly say that my first priority is no longer to please people. If my parents were to announce a similar contest today, my priority would be to enjoy them and enjoy the week while being myself. If I felt helpful or wanted to be helpful, I would be and if I didn’t want to be, I would let someone else do the honors. When we can finally get to that point in life where we are free to make choices and free to be ourselves, our relationships become mature relationships between adults rather than parent-child relationships. Think of how many business relationships are built on the parent-child model where the child is supposed to please the parent at all costs. What a hopeless cycle because those who insist on being pleased are the ones who are likely to never be pleased enough. The only option for us pleasers is to get off of the treadmill and begin to live authentically.