I do my best to try and avoid being whiny on this blog, but I’ll give in to the temptation just this once.
There’s a girl I work with who dislikes me for no apparent reason. This girl – we’ll call her Jane – and I got along well when I initially joined the organization and now, for whatever reason, has become cold and distant. I could get all Isaiah Washington and play the race card, but I won’t go there. (I’m not like that. My husband’s white!)
Despite the fact that I really shouldn’t care what Jane thinks of me, I do. I honest to God do. It’s Saturday morning and I’m obsessing over the fact that Jane doesn’t like me. Jane doesn’t give a crap about me right now and here I am, at home, on the weekend, flipping out about how some chick at work doesn’t like me. I know, I’m crazy.
Point-blank: I’m a people-pleaser. My depression comes from this. I try to think the best of myself. I’m sweet (really!) and well-meaning. I force myself to have a cheerful disposition. But I have one of the most narcissistic of attitudes: I just can’t understand why anyone would dislike me. In person, I probably seem annoying and grating. (The hubby says no and I say yes.)
I’m working on my backward thought process. I have a slew of friends and family who love and care for me and one girl who doesn’t like me totally ruins my weekends whenever I think of her. I dread going to work because of her. I breathe sighs of relief when she’s not around. I keep praying for her to quit. Talk about mentally ill. The crazier thought is that if I can’t get her to like me then I feel like I have nothing to live for. Anyone know of an antipsychotic that cures that problem?
The whole situation has led to a kind of paranoia. I wonder if people are talking about me, gossiping about how annoying I am. Jane must be telling the new assistant, Marie, that I did “such-and-such” and “can they believe it?” One of the things that the mainly female department gossips about is who washes her hands in the bathroom and who doesn’t. I kid you not. I feel like I’m back in high school. It’s so petty.
On the subject of high school, the floor I work on is full of 20-something editorial assistants, all in different departments. As a result of the similar age range, one large clique has formed. Jane and Marie are part of this clique. What’s taken a year for me to feel remotely accepted by my coworkers, Marie was able to overwhelmingly win them over in less than four months. Talk about me being a socially retarded loser.
Friends and family encourage me to simply go to work, do my job, put in my time, and leave. I see things differently. I spend about 7-8 hours at my job five days a week. I think that’s a significant amount of time to spend somewhere. When I’m there, must I feel like a pariah on the outside looking in?
I’m always looking for acceptance. I’m 25 and working at a job where I feel I’m back in high school – never cool enough, never good enough, never smart enough, don’t “fit in” enough no matter how hard I try.
Good enough is never enough.
Unrelated info: Even though the Beatles is my favorite band of all time, I’ll readily trash them if it earns me favor with a group of people. *sigh* My allegiance to Madonna, unfortunately, is a bit stronger.