The anxious feeling of choosing teams is all too familiar. Or rather, the sinking pit of humiliation that rears up when we’re not chosen. And even though most of us have left the dodgeball field behind, this pattern tends to pop back up occasionally in my adult life.
I recently started a training, and our assigned homework after the first class was to choose a buddy from the cohort that we’ll work with closely over the next several months. This naturally set anxiety spreading through the group like wildfire.
I somehow hit the jackpot and narrowly escaped this exact fate – I had clicked with someone else in the group very early on, and she suggested we pair up as buddies before the gauntlet had ever been laid down. I got so lucky with my buddy – matched up in the kind of friendship where you’re laughing so hard there’s iced latte streaming out of your nose during your very first conversation.
Even so, I was not immune to the icky feelings surrounding the whole process. Our group is chock full of talented and fabulous people, many of whom I’m super excited about getting to know better. And a few of them even approached me about being buddies after I’d already paired off. Bonjour anxiety.
I know, boo-hoo, poor popular girl. But honestly, the butterflies I felt about saying no and possibly hurting someone’s feelings unleashed some monster insecurities of my own. Our instructor was clear that all of these exercises were carefully orchestrated to bring us face to face with our issues. Whatever scary, squeamish feelings we encounter along the way only point to negative underlying beliefs we’re meant to uncover and release along the journey.
So as my stuff started popping up like kettle corn at the carnival, I had to ask myself what belief I needed to stare down. Even I’m incredulous that being over-chosen could be as uncomfortable as being outright rejected. It reminds of the way I felt the first time I broke up with a serious boyfriend.
I had never been the heartbreaker before. My only experience had been as the clinging, desperate, sobbing heartbreakee. No one was more surprised than me to realize that doing the dumping was excruciating, albeit different from being dumped.
After being the break-er-up-er for the first time, I remember wanting to call my first love, my high school sweetheart, and apologize for how unnecessarily hard I must have made it for him to break up with me. What with the clinging and the sobbing and the desperate pleas for just a fraction of his heart back.
Back to the present day – I realized that the anxiety of not being chosen and the ickiness of having to turn someone down are really two sides of the same coin. Both actually have the same source – fear of rejection, fear of lack, as if there isn’t enough love, joy, and well-being to go around. Because while I was empathetic and didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, I was also worried that by turning someone down, they would stop liking me. And then I would be the rejected one.
Well this revealed my own people-pleasing stuff. Hola passive-aggressive, non-confrontational wimp who occasionally commandeers my body. Yeah, you. Now is the time to be clear and honest. Time to be grateful for the abundance of lovely people I’m meeting, and to express gratitude that my words and energy are resonating with such an amazing group.
Thank you for the reminder that being myself and speaking the truth makes finding my tribe inevitable.
