My Big Fat Flaw

I am too nice. There. I said it. That is my big, fat flaw. I have trouble disappointing people, trouble saying no, trouble telling someone the truth, and trouble ignoring someone. People have frequently invaded my room until unseemly hours when all I wanted to do was lie face down on the floor and sink into unconsciousness like the girl from Psycho. But I couldn't get them out of my room to do that, because I am too nice. When someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch and I really don't want to, I have to say yes because I am too nice and am unable to say no. Or, in the rare case, I say "you know, today isn't a really good day for me, I've got a lot of homework and housework, so maybe we could do something another time." In that simple sentence, I have given them hope and failed to bar the door in their face, and, in doing so, hindered them from moving on. I limit their possibilities and their opportunities by cruelly leaving them hanging and hoping. This is the result of an abundance of nicety. Why do I have this problem? Maybe it was how I was raised. I was aways a super-polite kid. Even now, when I loan a pencil to someone, I say thank you when they give it back to me, despite the fact that it is, in all reality, they who should be thanking me. I am the type of girl who will say anything to anyone to keep them happy. I will blast myself and find some shred of happiness for them to latch onto. And I'm not happy unless everyone else is happy, so it is necessary for me to go to great lengths to please people. People pleasers. We are so maleable. Our only comfort is each other. My cousin is a people pleaser, like me, and I find support in her. We share the same issues in our lives and same worries. We worry when someone close to us is suffering, and we, too, suffer. We often let out personal needs go, and sacrifice our well-being for that of others. We also misstep so often, because we so want to please but we can't understand the signals, and don't know how to offer help. Maybe there is a purpose to the eternally bobbing helium balloons of our personality. Maybe our people pleasing is just what others need: someone to pity and accomodate them. We are the ones to take in the wounded and hurt, sheltering and nursing them until they once again fly. We are the conflict resolvers and the keepers of the peace. We are the ones who pry into the hearts of others in an attempt to help them heal with sharing. We are the ones who suffer alone at times, because we have no one to please us and ask us to open our secret souls. Yet, we are what we are. It is a gift, and a curse. And I would not trade it for anything.