Pleaseaholics and sniffaholics
We’ve dubbed Wolfie a sniffaholic because she has to inspect every blade of grass and every whiff of DNA. She also loves to lick my big toe that just lost its nail from a Mardi Gras injury (read: high heels all day long), but I digress.
I’ve dubbed myself a pleaseaholic. Recently, I had appointments with two people and both of them changed the time on me, but when I had a legit reason to change the time on them, I didn’t do it because I worried about inconveniencing them.
Today, as I rode my bike out to the lake, I realized I am a pleaseaholic. I actually get physically ill when thinking of putting someone out. Which is really weird because that is in direct contrast to other ways I am.
I’ve realize I’ve gotten to the point that I’m so scared to say yes to an invitation, because then if I have to readjust the schedule to suit me, I know I’m going to have issues, so I’m almost better off just saying no, I can’t make it from the get go. Hey, I’m Jewish, this stuff is in the genes – neurosis-aholics.
But I’m going to work on being a pleaseaholic – because it really doesn’t get you anywhere doing things for others that you think they want and not doing what you want because you wind up finding out that they either a) could care less, or b) wanted something else entirely.
Go figure.
June 12th, 2009 at 10:03 am
This one truly resonates with me. I’m not sure if it’s the DNA or the southern upbringing. As a female child I guess I was taught it was up to me to be the nice girl; the one who doesn’t say anything unless it’s “nice”. I’m 67 and still struggle with it.