Like most of us, when I was in my mid-teens to early twenties I didn’t understand much about myself. What’s worse, in my case, is that I have always been overly empathetic. It comes easy to me to assess the emotional state of others, and to not only know how they feel but able to understand why. This was an issue because as it got easier to share other people’s feelings, it became harder to understand mine. I could relate to others better than to myself.
I had a tendency to get caught up with dudes and guys, instructing them in the basics of being a civilized companion. Like no, it’s not appropriate to make fart jokes on a first, second, or hundredth date. Yes, it is rude to ask me out to dinner and then expect me to pay. No, it’s not okay to ask me a question and then check your phone will I’m talking. Yes, foreplay actually IS a real thing, and no, it’s only boring if you’re doing it wrong.
One day during a deep meditation, I saw how much of myself I was hiding from the world, and my own consciousness. And why was I doing that – to make others more comfortable? To get more clients, or a better chance at getting published? Was I seriously sacrificing my own comfort level, happiness, and growth to supply people with what they were expecting to see?