Self-disclosure of my people-pleasing foibles.

Self-disclosure of my people-pleasing foibles often leads people to tell me not to be so hard on myself. It’s true that I feel mad about the times I didn’t stick up for myself and shame in admitting what I see as a weakness.

But sharing my truth means I can’t hide from it. Once it’s out, I’m confronted with its destructiveness and feel I have no choice but to change.

My self-disclosure is working. S-L-O-W-L-Y but S-U-R-E-L-Y. I’ve written some funny stories about my successes on Facebook. *

And now, another story:

You may know some of the background of this one. If not, the short story is that in May, 2016, I had to take medical leave from a job I loved due to my increasingly disabling and difficult-to-diagnose gut problems. My employer encouraged me to take advantage of their short-term disability policy, which turned into long-term disability.

What a blessing. Not my illness, but the disability benefits. That income took the edge off leaving my job, and helped to cover the thousands of dollars I spent (and spend) on out-of-pocket medical expenses.

Then, in September 2019, I received a call from my disability representative. I’ll call her Mary.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Mary said, her voice wobbling. I could hear the emotion in her voice and I knew it was sincere. We had become fond of each other in a weird kind of way during our three-year phone relationship. She was always professional and business-like, but with heart.

“Our medical directors have determined that you are no longer eligible for benefits.” She gulped. “Your cased is being closed as of today.”

Shit. I felt my shoulders and chest collapse, and my breath, my hopes, my future squeezed out of me like toothpaste.

I had wondered if I might face a reduction of benefits someday. I’m not bed-bound, after all. I’m not immobile. My mornings always suck, but I can usually leave the house in the afternoon or evening if I need to. I can take care of myself and do household chores and tap away on my laptop.

But I never expected a complete benefit mic-drop without warning.

As crushed as I felt, I also felt bad for Mary. My instinct was to comfort her.

“It’s OK,” I told her. “I won’t starve.” And I blathered on about the benefits being a blessing, and how grateful I was, blah, blah, blah.

I heard Mary typing to transcribe our conversation, like always. It’s her job. I knew she did it and I wasn’t worried because I had nothing to hide.

A few weeks later, I decided to appeal the decision, so I requested my full medical file—all 2,400 pages.

I read, or at least skimmed, most of it. When I came to my final conversation with Mary, I wished I had sewn my lips shut. It sounded like I was overjoyed to be losing my income. Blessing this and blessing that and all kinds of gratitude shit.

Nowhere did it say Client expressed anger and disappointment. Client Cried. Client said it must be a mistake because her health has not improved. Nope. Client was as agreeable as always. I saw it for myself in black and white.

I haven’t received the results of my appeal yet, but I suspect my people-pleasing will work against me. It won’t be the first time. There’s a scene in my memoir when a similar thing happened, only that time, it was a doctor I acquiesced to, and the patient was my son.

So you see why I share these stories. I hope you understand my self-disclosure. I must learn the lessons in what happened. And maybe others will learn, too.

In her book, The Disease to Please, the late Harriet B. Braiker said:

Sometimes we see in others what we can’t see clearly in ourselves.

If you see yourself in my stories, stick around. We’ll figure this out together.

*I tried to link to the exact post, but the cyber-gods weren’t cooperating. If you can’t find the post (or you’re not on Facebook), let me know and I’ll email it to you. And if you are on Facebook, how about following me while you’re there? 😉

[If you don’t see the comment box here, click on the title of this post, scroll to the bottom and, Voila! Or, you can click on “Contact” in the menu bar and send me an email. I really do want to hear from you!]

4 thoughts on “Self-disclosure of my people-pleasing foibles.”

  1. Thank you, Judy. I’m finding that the more I push myself into uncomfortable areas, the more I see and feel my strength! And, of course I haven’t met you (in person), so I can’t judge if you talk too much or too little, lol. But telling a story in person is different, I think, than writing it. I think the challenge for writers is to find the fewest, absolutely necessary words, and let the reader come to conclusions on their own. It’s why I sit for hours and hours over days and days to finish one measley blog post!

  2. Karen, I can be an upfront, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners type in situations like you describe. Just give me warning, explain the details, and let me get psyched for it. Surprise me with something like you describe, especially from someone who already feels bad and with whom I have a previous relationship? “Oh heavens, Mary, no no, don’t you worry, we’ll be fine here!” 🤦‍♂️

    1. I was thinking about that the other day, Jack – that if I like the person, I’m sunk. I want to protect them, even to my own disadvantage. If someone’s acting like a jerk, or it’s some pushy saleperson, I can be much more direct. My therapist once gave me great advice–keep business relationships business; don’t let them become personal. Not always easy, but wise.

  3. Karen, you are such a strong woman! You are bravely facing your mistakes and doing something about it. I admire that. I am often told (mostly by my husband) that I say too much in situations when less is better, and now I see it myself, but it’s sometimes so hard because the words just flow out of my mouth. I think it’s because I want the listener to have the whole story! Is that part of being a writer? 🙂 Maybe.

Leave a comment...I'd love to hear your thoughts!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.