There's no place like home

Well, Peggy, turns out you were right. I am a die hard people pleaser and it's driving me practically insane.

I've spent the past few months trying desperately to earn the love of my husband/stepkids/kids' mom by bending over backwards to make everyone like me. I can barely believe how juvenile that sounds particularly now that I've typed it out. Me, a girl who prides herself on individuality wanted everyone to like me.

In the past few weeks, I think I could literally feel my heart breaking into hundreds of little pieces. I wasn't feeling a lot of support from all of the "loved" ones whom I was so desperately trying to please. The intellectual part of me was screaming at the people-pleasing love sick part to wake the fuck up and smell the coffee. HELLLLLOOOOOOOO. Darling Erin. YO, YOU. If this was one of your friends, what would you tell them to do?

I can tell by my credit card balance, waistline and mental status that I'm internalizing a lot of my depression. My illnesses haven't come in the form of extra colds or the Swine Flu; no, I've been struck with the curse of retail therapy and a pantry that doesn't stop screaming my name at night.

My added weight and expenditures have had me doing a lot of contemplating lately. Is my antidepressant not working anymore? Should I ask the doctor for a higher dosage? I mean, how is it I can admit a kid to the hospital without so much as a tear but 8 months later, cat puke has me bawling like a baby?

But I know what my doctor would say: try to eliminate as much stress from your life as possible. I used to think that was as possible as trying to get my brother to dress like a girl; however, it had become more obvious to me in the past few months that if I wanted to eliminate a lot of stresses in my life, then I might have to invoke the "D" word and stick to it this time.

I've run through the same scenario in my head for almost a week now. Where would I live? How did I let things get this far? How do you separate from a husband who isn't home very often? What would everyone think of me? The fact that I was admitting these thoughts to myself -- and am still on this blog -- scare me a little, but I want to be honest.

I was practically burned out beyond repair, so much so that divorce seemed like a plausible end to all of my stresses, but then I rolled into my neighborhood Barnes and Noble and I started to change my tune.

I'd devoured my last two books in 2 weeks and wanted something else to sink my brain into. I was desperate for some self help so I made my way over to the people pleaser section where I found The Disease to Please by Harriet B. Braiker, PhD. I was a little hesitant about this book and figured it might be another "love yourself first" anthology, but when I started to notice similarities between myself and the other people pleasers, my eyes opened a little wider and I continued to read.

I please people because I figure they'll like me more if I do. I want to be the well liked Stepmom and wife. I want people to want me. I need people to need me. Somehow in the deep dark recesses of my brain, I've been thinking my self worth is dependent on how much people like me.

Well poo to that.

I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And gosh darn it, people like me.

Just as I'm getting into the really juicy lessons in the book, what soundtrack should come on but Wizard of Oz -- my all time favorite movie. Here I am in the middle of the B&N cafe reading about the Please Disease while bopping my little head to the Lullaby League song. I think I got a glimpse of what heaven was like then and there.

And all of a sudden, I decided to stop trying to please everyone. There will not be any raising of selfish brats in my house; there will be date nights with my husband. Damn it, I'm worthy of a few simple requests am I not?

And because I had to break up with my therapist this summer, I also picked myself up a cognitive behavioral workbook where I'm going to conduct my own therapy right here in the comfort of my own home...

Because as the Good Lord Dorothy tells us: there' s no place like home.