Man.  This is another one of those blogs that has been floating around in my head for months now.  I’ve pictured it, and how it would sound in my head when I finally got it out.  Things like this never turn out exactly how I want them to, but getting it out of my head literally gets it off my mind.  And I stop worrying about it.  So here goes.

I have discovered something about myself that I’m not particularly proud of, and have worked to overcome it. I am The Pleaser.

It’s hard for me to describe what this means.  Really, I think it comes out of the desperation of always having to be the “new kid” every time we moved.  I went to 13 different schools before I graduated high school.  Think about that, really.  That’s more schools than there are years.  Multiple moves in one year, staying somewhere just long enough to feel comfortable before we’d leave, never getting established.  I’m not angry about it, I don’t think it’s ruined my life – quite the contrary, I find myself capable of adapting to new situations because of it.

But that want, need, desire to have friends and be liked has turned me into a person that will do whatever I have to do, whatever you want me to do… just so you’ll like me.  And I hate that about myself.

I want to be able to like what I like, and choose what I choose because I want to, not because I think it’s what you like.  I don’t want to impress you.  I don’t want to be ashamed of the music I listen to, or how I dress, or what I talk about simply because I care what you think.  I absolutely HATE agreeing with what you say when I actually don’t agree.  I don’t have to get something just because you thought it was cool.

Me?

I like country music.  I listen to top 40 radio.  I read fantasy and science fiction books.  I play video games.  I absolutely adore chick flicks.  I have no idea how to dress myself.  I have a shitty body image.  I require positive reinforcement and affirmation.  I’m good at sports, when I play them. I love to drive long distances.  I can’t dance.  I’m not cool, I can’t hold my liquor, and I have no idea what to do at a bar.  I don’t do my hair and makeup because I don’t like the time in to result out ratio.  I am entirely too competitive and jealous by nature.  I think I’m smart enough to be a doctor, but I chose to be a mom instead… I wont ever regret that decision.  I don’t think I’m a better mom than anyone else, but I don’t think anyone could raise Ronan like I can.  I’m proud of my family, and proud to be from Canada.  I miss having a Canadian accent.  I can’t justify spending money on clothes, so I rarely do.  I felt very good at my job as an obstetric sonographer, and I wish it were still a part of my life.  I love my husband more than words can describe.  I don’t regret the choices I’ve made in the past that have brought me here.  I wish I lived closer to my family.  I’m not that funny, but it makes me feel good when people laugh.  I write because it makes ME feel better, and I’m brutally honest when I do.  My house is never clean.  I have no idea, really, how to raise a child, and I’m just getting through it the best way I can.  I don’t like to try new foods.  I hate being teased, even though it’s ‘attention’.  I DON’T like to be tickled.  I used to love roller coasters, and now I’m terrified of them.  I talk too much.  I’m bossy.  Yes, I probably think I could do it better than you could.  I’m proud of myself for nursing as long as I have, and also for NOT listening to everyone who told me [insert advice here].  I can’t think of anything else to write, and that’s okay.

Whatever ‘me’ I have shared with you in the past, the real me wants you to know her.  I don’t want to please you anymore.  If you don’t want to be my friend because I’m not who you thought I was, then we probably shouldn’t have been friends in the first place.  It’s sad that I felt that I had to impress you, because I should have been stronger than that.  But now?  Now I just want to be me.

I have this post already written in my head, and it makes me sad.  It isn’t meant to be a woe-is-me situation or anything.  It’s really just the way things feel to me.

I don’t have any friends.

Yeah, I know, that’s stupid.  Mandy, you’re stupid.

You have a ton of friends on Facebook that you love keeping in touch with.  And you have all of these amazing people that you consider your friends.  Dana and Amanda are incredible.  You probably couldn’t live without Joy, or Nancy, or Nadine.  You are friends with the people you work with; you like all of them.  And Crystal?  She’s still your BFF.   She always will be.

Then what the hell am I talking about?

The thing is, I can’t remember the last time I had a friend that I could hang out with on a moments notice.   It has been years since there was someone that came over just to see me.  Someone that called me when she had a problem and needed me.  Someone that I could call just because I had a problem and needed her.  There are no shopping trips, cause we’re both stressed out and need some retail therapy.  No hugs, cause I just need a damn hug.  No one that loves Ronan as much as I do, just because he’s mine.

I’m so jealous of all of the people that I see, and their groups of amazing friends.  I am green with envy when I see Facebook pictures of the girls I knew in high school on camping trips and vacations with the best buds they’ve had since first grade.  I want so badly to have that, and yet friendships like that aren’t just made.  How does one become a best friend without being too forward, too aggressive?  Can it just happen one day?  It takes years to know someone well enough to know them inside and out, to know them as well as they know themselves.  And it hurts like hell to consider someone the very best friend that you have, and know that to them you’re actually just okay to hang out with.

I have all of these friends that are in my life because of work, or because of mututal relationships, or just because of luck.  I care about all of them, and they matter so much to me.  But I don’t have THAT friend.

And it makes me terribly lonely.  I’m surrounded by people that like me, and I’m lonely.