Confessions of a Doormat

Are you consistently the one people go to when they’re asking for something? Do you always say, “yes”? Even if it may have a negative impact on you?

Join the club. We meet twice a week. By twice a week I mean maybe once, and by maybe once I mean we never meet.

I’m not social. Never claimed to be social. I hate public speaking and I want nothing to do with a political career… yet that seems to be exactly what I’m heading towards if I continue on my current employment path.

The amount of public speaking “opportunities” increase. The responsibilities increase. I’m constantly stressed and feel like I can never get ahead work wise.

BUT I NEVER TELL SOMEONE, “NO I CAN’T HELP WITH THAT.”

It’s awful. I hate it. It’s a horrible personality trait to be a doormat.

Yet somehow, being my doormat self has lead me to a path in my life where people are looking to me for answers. They’re asking me how we are going to accomplish something, because people can talk to me. Because they’re not intimidated by the doormat. Because I never tell anyone to go away. I never tell someone that I don’t have time.

I sit. I listen. I give insight from another point of view. We negotiate. Maybe we reach a resolution and maybe the shit hits the fan and I have someone screaming in my face while I put on my resting bitch face and otherwise show no reaction.

A little tip for anyone who screams and rants at someone who is typically considered a doormat or “calm”… We’re not fucking listening. The moment you started raising your voice, we have mentally slipped into what I call the “fuck off, Brenda” zone. It’s the zone where one soccer mom is finally telling another soccer mom to fuck off because she’s being a bitch. It’s amazing. Highly recommend retreating to a space in your mind similar to my “fuck off, Brenda” zone when things get too tense at work or in your personal life.

Regardless of whether I will ever grow a backbone for myself, I will always have my coworkers and my family’s backs.

Just remember… fuck off, Brenda, and don’t touch my fucking lunch which is labelled WITH MY NAME in the office fridge.

you-read-my-doormat

❤ Casey

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