Tag Archives: introvert

True Life: I can’t say no.

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“Jamie, would you like anything from Voodoo Doughnuts?” Yes.

“Jamie, would you like to get some drinks after work?” Of course.

“Jamie, I’m interested in you. What’s your number?” asks the man, who I’m not interested in.  Err.. umm, it’s 727-555-5888.

It’s true. I cannot say no to people. And I want to change that. I mean, need to change that.

I’ve always been the nice one. I’ve also been the type to avoid confrontation as much as possible. Perhaps even the two are correlated. I really believe it’s just easier to say yes. That way, I don’t have to see the other person disappointed if I were to say no.

Not only do I face situations in my personal life that I can’t say no to: doughnuts, beer, and men. But many times have occurred at work.

When people know you’re nice, they use this as an advantage for themselves. By being the person who doesn’t say no at work means that co-workers come to me when they need my help, especially when it involves covering his or her shift. Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people. I believe in good karma as much as the next person. I, however, don’t believe in using people as a doormat.

I think I’ve already set the bar at work. They know I’m the go-to person. (This, too, can work as an advantage for me.) It’s almost like having a boyfriend (or girlfriend) who continuously cheats on you and you perpetually forgive them. If you let him or her get away with it once, they will continue because you set the bar. You let them know it was okay. (If you didn’t know, that is never okay.)

I recently had a situation happen at work. I was the last person she asked while everyone before me said no to her. It put me in a predicament where I felt obligated to say yes. This was the first time I was becoming frustrated with my current job. I felt the tears coming.

I had just come out of yoga class feeling great (and sweaty). I couldn’t wait to get home, shower, and do all those single-girl habits I have. I especially liked the idea of staying up late. After all, I was going to sleep in the next day. That’s when I received not only a text, but a missed call along with a voice mail.

Didn’t she know it was my morning off? Didn’t she know it was my morning to sleep in? Didn’t she know it was my morning to drink four cups of coffee in bed while watching The Wonder Years? Didn’t she know it was my morning to put my mind off of work, and be a vegetable in my bed? Mine, mine, mine.

I didn’t want to take her shift. But how do I say no to a person, nicely? I was trying to think of excuses. I only came up with one.

Oh, I can’t because I have an appointment. (I didn’t. Although I could have used a Groupon for a pedicure where appointments are preferred…)

How do I tell someone who has a fever that although I can take her shift, but I just don’t want to? I couldn’t say I can’t. Technically, I was physically available but mentally unavailable. Was that selfish of me? Possibly. But I always say yes, dammit! I contemplated for an hour on how I could tell her– I’m sorry, but I need to do laundry and sleep in. There isn’t a nice way to put it. So I eventually just told her that it was fine.

It happens when dealing with the opposite sex, too. He took advantage of this, and walked all over me. A stranger asks for my number, and I can’t say no. I regrettably give it to him and when he texts me telling me we should hang out, I ignore it and feel bad about it days later.

Where did I develop this can’t-say-no-thing? My mom? It has to be, right? Possibly society has instilled it in me? Little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Or maybe I can blame it on the positions of the Sun, Moon, and planets? (I’m a Virgo if you care.) Or perhaps it’s just inevitable when someone is too nice?

2012 is 23 days away. The time is nearing when I make resolutions that never seem to last. I’m adding something to the list anyway–I need to learn how to say no to people. I need to learn that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Otherwise, when will I get what I want? I need to learn that I can’t please everyone. And sometimes I have to disappoint people, and turn them down.

Two days ago a co-worker asked if I could cover a class. I didn’t stress about it. I didn’t take hours to respond. I decided to be selfish and tell him the truth: No, I can’t. Incredulously, he asked why not?! I told him I had yoga to attend.

I guess it’s easier to say no when you really do have plans (or a boyfriend).

It’s nice to meet you.

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I stood in front of my closet trying to come up with the most flattering (but which I felt most comfortable in) outfit. I applied my makeup as slowly and carefully as possible. I practiced my smile. Lean to the right, and cheeeeeeese. I fluffed my hair to make it as elegantly disheveled as possible. Voila!

I was having a blind date with a group of strangers. A group of women, in fact.

And no, I was not going out on the town in search of a new boyfriend with a bunch of women. I also wasn’t trying to date a woman. However, I was looking to make a friend, or two.

I knew that the hardest thing for me moving to a new city wasn’t about not knowing anyone. (It’s actually quite exciting at times.) Nor, was it finding an apartment or a job. But rather, the actual act of going out and making the attempt to meet people, whom I could eventually call a friend.

To me, it feels just like dating and I absolutely hate it. Why? I’m an introvert. Naturally, I’m bad at it. I’m quite shy, until I have had two beers. Otherwise, I am listener. I’m self-conscious, until I have had three beers. Otherwise, I am worried about what others are thinking about me, which results in me just listening and not talking. And like dating, I constantly ask myself while I look at a large group of laughing friends, “Where the hell do I meet people, dammit?!”

Most people my age probably aren’t even asking the aforementioned question. They have already done this: moved away from home and made a crap load of new friends. I didn’t. Inevitably, my high school social network got smaller and smaller over the years until I was down to less than a handful of friends who I would see on a regular basis. Unless, of course, I had a boyfriend at the time. I (regretfully) attended college locally and commuted to school. I never lived in a dorm. I never attended school events or clubs or whatever it is that school spirited college students did to make friends. But I didn’t really care about meeting people either. I did, however, manage to make one college friend throughout the years.

In theory, moving to Portland was my college experience that I missed out on. I knew that moving here would be healthy for me. It would help me step outside of my comfort zone and make friends, who are like-minded. Or if I don’t, I am fairly certain I will be the lonely and crazy cat woman at the age of 22. (Well, 23 at the end of the month.)

I’m getting antsy for new people in my life. I see herds, yes, herds of people having a jolly time out on the town, and I want that, especially in this place I am starting to fall in love with. It’s the one thing I am missing in my life right now. (Besides my mother, of course.) Some yearningly look at couples holding hands, and while yes I do want that at times, I have never wanted a large group of friends more than ever. And this is coming from someone who appreciates quality over quantity.

And so I went where any other desperate woman looking to meet someone would go to: the internet. Google is great. I simply typed into the search bar: “Where to meet people in a new city?” 327,890 hits. Really? It’s that easy?

Days later, I was getting ready for my first meet up with a bunch of strangers to have drinks in downtown. I didn’t make a best friend that night, but I did the first step in friendship dating: I got myself out there. People other than my roommate know of my existence in this city.

That girl.

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She’s the girl you see at the bar. She’s usually laughing (it’s more than likely infectious). She’s sipping her cocktail, and has an amazing pair of heels that complement her attitude. Men are gawking, all the while. Each of them discovering the words pouring from her mouth, fascinating. They all stare at her lips in anticipation of what will be said next. I never know what she is saying, (Hell, it could be rather dull) but I still envy her.

She is confident. She is funny. She is attractive. She knows this while she looks at herself in the mirror, getting ready for the day. She can easily charm the people surrounding her. Why? Why does it appear to be so easy for her? What is her secret?

Is it because men are surrounding her? Does that make her more confident? Because she has often been told she is funny by the opposite sex? That she is attractive? That the words eloquently rolling off of her tongue are fascinating? Is it the shoes? Or is it all an act?

I’m insecure. My choice of shoes (flats) reveal my fear: the humiliation of falling in public. I laugh a lot to fill in the awkward gaps where small talk should be placed. I’m an introvert. Words don’t eloquently pour out of my mouth. I mumble over my words when I don’t re-play in my mind eight times of what I will say out loud.

I am uncomfortable in my own skin.

Even if I get the slightest attention from anybody (namely the opposite sex) other than who I am with, I think horrible thoughts. Oh, dear! Did I forgot to wipe all the toothpaste off my face? Is my zipper undone? The thoughts are never him possibly thinking: Wow, I think she has an amazing smile! or She seems like a real, groovy chick. I want to discuss the meaning of life, and what she would do if life handed her lemons. (I would peel them, throw them at people and hope the juice would get into their eyes.)

I often wish I was that girl at the bar.

In the beginning of relationships, I have that confidence. I feel like I am that girl at the bar for a moment or two. Inevitably, when I get dumped, I’m back to who I previously had been. (Or maybe it’s who I’ve always been.)

After my break up with A, I vowed to myself that I needed to be on my own for a while. During most of those two years together, I relied on him to be the one to tell me how great I was. The one to tell me how lucky he was to be with someone, like me. The one that broke down my barrier, releasing my confidence. It was always a relief when I could finally be myself around a person and they found it absolutely charming. (No, really! I am quite funny.)

I relied on reading self-help books and talking to anyone who would listen to my whining about the break up. I kept reading and hearing, “You must learn to love yourself. Otherwise, if you can’t even love yourself, how could anyone else?” What does that even mean? I do love myself! I think?

No I didn’t.

Otherwise, I would be comfortable in my own skin. Right? I wouldn’t need to rely on the opposite sex to tell me how fascinating I am, nor would I need a man to be happy. That’s the problem with most relationships. More often than not we aren’t in love with ourselves. We rely solely on one person (who aren’t even ourselves!) for that happiness. Rather, the person should just add to your already batch of happiness.

That’s the girl at the bar’s secret: she is in love with herself. She really is smart. After all, it makes sense. Yourself wouldn’t let you down. Yourself wouldn’t go cheat on someone else. Yourself wouldn’t break your heart.

But how does a person fall in love with themselves? It seems like it’s awfully hard to start over with yourself, especially after knowing yourself for 22 years. But if I looked at it from the other spectrum, a break up is really just a new beginning. It’s the perfect time to start over. (Even if it’s just dying your hair a dark brown.)

Since mid 2008, I have kept my vow and have been on my own. I’ve been unhappy, but I’ve also been quite happy with where I have been. I am in love with myself. I think?

I recently was asked, “Are you really in love with yourself, Jamie?” I quickly said yes. But then I thought about it.

I’m still terribly insecure with myself. I blush when I get compliment from someone. No! You’re just being nice! I refuse to accept that he thinks I’m attractive when I have no makeup on, and that my arms are perfect just the way they are.

Maybe I really haven’t been all on my own. Perhaps the person I am now isn’t truly the person I am supposed to be. I’m hoping this move across the country will allow me to become the person I am supposed to be. This will be the ultimate test of being content on my own. I will be in a place where no one will know who I am or have ever been. It’s a fresh start. I won’t be judged if I go against the norms of who I used to be. Those negative thoughts when I get a double-take from someone will remain here, in Florida.

When I am the one telling myself how great I am, the one breaking down my own barrier to release my confidence, and looking in the mirror believing that I really do have an amazing smile, will be the day I can say I am truly in love with myself.