I’ve spent the entirety of my life playing the peacekeeper. Why? Because I loathe confrontation. And I mean loathe. It’s no exaggeration when I say that conflict gives me chest pains. This visceral response has plagued me for decades and continues to do so. Avoidance and pandering to others have become second nature. I’d rather bury my head in the sand, than risk making waves.
I know where it stems from: my childhood. I was a young girl who held myself responsible for events that had nothing to do with me. I know that now. Honestly, I knew it then, too. I was just too scared to believe it. Then, why can’t I shake this feeling?
Mainly, because I’m still convinced that if I rock the boat, I’ll go down with the ship. And let’s face it, I’m a shitty swimmer. I can tread water with the best of them, but I’ll never gain distance.
Well, I’m tired of flailing. I’m tired of passively clinging to a raft while others drift by on their yachts. I’m in my thirties now. And I’m a mom. I want to change. No, I need to change. My children deserve a better example than what I’ve shown them. My husband deserves a better version of myself than what I’ve given him. I need to learn my value if I’m going to be of any value to them. I want to listen and be heard.
That means I need make myself a priority. It means that I need to retire the peacekeeper hat and stand up for what I want and need. But how? How does one rewrite their destiny?
I have no fucking clue. But I do know this: I’m done with status quo.
When do I get to be the squeaky wheel? When is it acceptable for me to make demands? Better yet, when will I feel justified in asking for what I deserve? That’s the crux of the issue. What’s it going to take for me to believe that I am worthy?
I’m tired of waiting to drown.
When do I get to rock the boat? Because I’m ready to make some fucking waves.