As I said in my last post, I've spent a lot of time lately (as in the past couple of years) thinking about the world, my life, and what's important to me. I reached a point a while back where I realized that I seemed to be constantly sabotaging myself and keeping myself from achieving the things I thought I wanted most. It's been a long, strange trip through my psyche ever since. I'm certainly not finished with that trip, but I'm at a point where I feel like I've learned a thing or two, and the changing of a decade seems an appropriate time to put a few observations down in words.
Anyway, I turned to Plinky in the hopes that among the inane suggestions for blog topics something might pop up that might prompt some of my jumbled thoughts to congeal into something relevant. Breakfast? Not so much.
Today's prompt? Better. Would I rather see or be seen? Am I an observer or an attention-getter?
Let's take a trip down memory lane...
Like pretty much every other kid/teen in the world, when I was younger there was nothing I wanted more than positive attention. When it came to the adults in my life I knew exactly how to achieve that. It wasn't complicated. They didn't play games. It wasn't a competition.
With my peers it was a lot more complicated.
It's not that I wanted to be super popular. There had been a time in elementary school when I had felt like I fit in. I was always a little shy, always a big nerd, and never had the most fashionable clothes or most popular toys, yet I wasn't excluded from the social scene.
And then my parents decided to put us in a different school. Suddenly the things I'd been raised to be proud of were a source of ridicule. I simply didn't fit in at the new school. I didn't dress right, didn't listen to the right music, didn't play the same games on the playground, didn't share the same interests with everyone else. I'd never had to work that hard to fit in, and I didn't know where to even start. And suddenly, every bit of social confidence I'd ever had was gone. Since I didn't know how to fit in, I stuck with what I did know: making adults happy. At the time I thought I was being pragmatic -- I figured that succeeding at my goals in life would hinge more on my achievements than my social success.
The bad thing is that, over time, I developed this belief that adults treated me differently than my peers because adults valued different things than teens. I really believed that once I got out of my teenage years that the social rules would change, and I couldn't wait.
It didn't take very long before I started to realize I was wrong. As I passed from high school into college and then into the work force I realized that adults act just the same as teens -- petty, jealous, vindictive, judgmental -- only they're sneakier and quieter about it. It's all the same pack mentality and clique behavior as in high school, but with a thin veneer of maturity. This time the problem was that, although I knew how to gain the praise of those around me, I was tired of doing it. I was bored with it. It didn't make me happy.
So I stopped.
I lost my job in 2002. It was my own fault, but I didn't expect it to happen. And I guess it left me not knowing who I was anymore. My identity had been wrapped up for so long in being the girl who excelled at stuff, and now that I'd failed at that I was left just... floating. I started to feel the same way in the "real world" as I'd felt in my teenage years, so I started avoiding attention. I told myself that it was because I wanted to excel on my own terms, but it was really because I was hiding. Pretty soon I was subconsciously keeping myself from really achieving anything significant because I didn't like the feeling of having people looking at me. As much as I wanted to succeed at projects or endeavors, my subconscious fear of exposing myself to the potential of having all of my mistakes and failures poked at was a far more powerful force.
It seems to me that there are two reasons for wanting attention. One is to compensate for insecurities, needing the validation from others to build the self-worth you don't otherwise feel. That's where I was as a kid. The problem is, though, that you then get caught in a cycle of trying to do what everyone else wants in order to maintain their approval.
It's only been recently that I finally realized that being an attention-getter also has a positive purpose. In the years of trying to achieve my goals while avoiding the attention of others, I realized that it's almost impossible to get where you want to go completely on your own. I might not want everyone's attention, but I won't accomplish my goals without the recognition, validation, and ultimately the help of certain people.
I was on the right track as a kid, realizing that there were some people who's approval and attention carried more value than others. What I didn't realize then was that it's all the same game. As much as most of us don't like it, the truth is that we exist in hierarchies. If one wants to move up and get ahead, you have to get the attention of certain players in the game. It's not a bad thing, it's just how the world works.
So, now, I'd have to say I'd rather be seen. I just want to be seen for who I really am and what I can do. I want the attention of those I respect, those I love, and those who can help me get to where I want to go. Otherwise? I'm over it.
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