You can’t please everyone. On some days you may be hard pressed to please anyone. On other days even pleasing oneself seems out of reach. At that point everyone sees you for the piece of work you truly are. I have struggled with the people pleaser thing my whole entire life. Even now when my attitude borders on a half past give a $hit mentality, I still care deep down. I probably will always care inside which just pisses me off. There have been few times in my life when I have really tried to please myself. I have always been trying my damnedest to please everyone else. The result has left me depressed and defiant because I simply can’t. Worse yet, no one else is lining up trying to please me either.
Over the years I have gradually evolved into the person I am now. I have given up on pleasing some people because they were hell bent on hating me and making my life a torturous hell on earth no matter what I did. It became clearer to me when not that long ago I once again treated someone with kindness only to have them dig deep into their imaginations to make up lies and imagined slights. I don’t understand what is wrong with some people. What I do understand is that I have zero patience for people like this. I can’t please them. They are never happy and if others are happy they are hell bent to destroy it. My walls have gone up and I have retreated into my present isolation. Sadly, I am happiest in solitude. Why? You can never please everyone.
The day I can look into the mirror and feel that I have truly pleased myself will probably be a happy day indeed. I am not there yet. If I were, I would feel happy and I don’t. I have slipped into the depths of despair once again. Perhaps it is the dreaded mid life crisis that one always hears about that grips me now. You know that loony time in life when normally sane people leave everything behind to “FIND” themselves. I am not quite that stupid to go looking elsewhere for me. For better or for worse, I am right here. I wouldn’t know where to look if I did try. I went through a stage in life where I was this giggling little thing that laughed at the drop of the hat- hence the giggling trucker’s wife. It seemed to fit then. Life was funny, then. I have withdrawn within myself, and as a result I have become more serious and reflective. I hate to think I have mental-pause/menopause to blame, but really fu¢k it, what else can be wrong with me?? Perhaps it is a massive hormonal imbalance that would be rectified with several small bottles filled with pills.
Perhaps it is simply that moment in time that dawns when I stand up and make a huge pot of vegetable soup for me despite the fact my daughter tolerates it and everyone else in the house despises it. That moment when I proclaim with a wicked grin “If you don’t like it, go ahead and starve!!!” while I eat my fill knowing full well my son and husband will no doubt refuse to eat a bite. Ah well, I will work through it, rest assured about that. As I do, you will be treated to these bursts of instability that resemble that lady in “Fried Green Tomatoes” who took great pleasure in ramming her car repeatedly in those little snot nose bit¢hes car that had the balls to steal her parking spot. Towanda!!! Ahh midlife, when breasts and testicles noticeably begin to sag and unless you got thousands of dollars to lift and tuck you live with it until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.