On being Nice

the subtle manipulation under the surface

What a lot of people don’t want to hear — and what I didn’t want to hear for a long time — is that the mask of Niceness is actually a powerful form of manipulation.

People pleasing, while usually well-intentioned, is a form of control: controlling the people around you, subtly trying to influence their perception of you.

People pleasing & being Nice when you don’t actually mean it is a lie — dishonest at best, gaslighting and manipulation at worst.

“But Christie, I’m just trying to be nice and accommodating to the people around me. I’m not trying to control anyone!”

Is your niceness coming from a place of true generosity, or is it coming from a place of obligation, force, expectation, and a fear of being disliked?

I was a Grade A people pleaser for so much of my life. This is because I was terrified of being abandoned and would do essentially anything to ensure I received the Good Graces of those around me.

I would contort myself into wild shapes and morph into different personalities, taking on the opinions of those around me to show them: hey, I like that too! Do you like me now? Please don’t discard me.

While it stemmed from my own fear of abandonment, it was still dishonest.

I actually never gave myself the chance to be liked for who I was, because I was too busy trying to make sure people liked me for who I thought they wanted me to be. And in some cases, I was trying to make sure people liked me for who they thought I should be.

How I should act, how I should show up, how I should dress, what kind of music I should like, what kind of opinions I ought to have if I’m going to be accepted.

I was so scared of being abandoned by other people that I self-abandoned over & over & over again to cope.

I thought I could fawn my way into love. But the reality of chronic self-abandonment is devastating. It feels like two magnets repelling each other. There is never true peace in your inner world — only a tornado that eats up everything in its path. Pure frenetic chaos energy.

What I know now is that it is unfair to the people around me when I don’t show up with what is true in my system.

More importantly: it is deeply unfair to me.

But the pain of getting to the other side of this pattern is so, so worth it.

art found on a street in Copenhagen

I have found enormous freedom in saying No.

In disagreeing with people.
In taking up space.
In choosing to let my fire out when something hurts me.
In sharing when I’m confused or don’t understand something.
In no longer swallowing my words for anyone else’s comfort.
In saying I don’t want to do something without overexplaining myself and apologizing profusely.
In letting my No be enough, and in choosing to never overexplain myself again.
In letting people misunderstand me and choosing to do nothing about it, because other people’s judgments are not my business.

The world is brighter on the other side of people pleasing.

My senses are more alive.
I am dripping in eroticism.
My creative fire is humming inside of me.

I can feel my body in time and space, proprioception steady and interoception intact.

Breaking free from the chains of Expectation and outsourcing my worth is medicine.

Being misunderstood is a juicy, gushing spell that teaches me to embrace my power.

Being judged is a sexy permission slip to keep embodying my fullness, knowing that it’s a mirror for where others don’t approve of their own fullness.

In the brilliant words of my friend Jenna —

“I spent years in a creative cuck chair, castrating myself in the name of being good. I cut my tongue out and shoved it up my asshole for the gaze of hypothetical randoms. Now, I’ve gotten to the point where I’m like, yeah… fuck all that.”

I’m grateful for the people I surround myself with who play a big game. And I’m grateful that they’ve held me as I play mine.

May you find your sword. May you bask in integrity. May you honor your knowing. May you be fiercely loyal to yourself. May you lead your life from truth. May you follow the thread of most aliveness.

꩜
Christie