It’s not about me.
But sometimes it is. Sometimes it really, really is.
I try really hard to not make things about me. To be as beige as possible. I’m not an attention seeker. I don’t generally need attaboys. I’m non pushy. And my life is plagued by a general feeling that I need to give up my space to others, that I need to give the gift of less of me.
This usually plays out in my life by not making it about me, by not speaking up, by taking a step back…. Over and over and over.
And then I feel invisible.
And offended – no one has noticed I gave all my space away and offered it back to me.
Usually the only people I’d expect that from are my very closest.
And when I can’t take the invisibility anymore I say something ugly. And probably very much about me. But only to one of those very closest.
I’m tired of this ride. It sucks.
I’m purposing to look at each uncomfortable situation and ask how this can make me stronger.
Anyone who loves me more when I give all my space away doesn’t get to be in my life. Period.
But it’s not about other people.
It’s really not.
It is about me.
It’s about me. Me learning to stand firm in my space. Learning that I can have wants, needs, and preferences without steamrolling someone else. Because it’s MY SPACE. That valuing myself as equal does not make me all those things I don’t want to be.
That the idea I need to give the world the gift of less of me might actually be the very opposite of the truth. If I have a gift to give…. It might actually be the very things that are the very most me.