Wasted Days and Wasted Nights
Cheryl was too busy to listen to another litany of complaints about a woman I’d decided had power over me. She laid aside the stack of wood she was sanding, put her hands on her hips and said, “Listen, I’m going to tell you something you won’t think is true but it’s the cause of all your problems. You’re a people pleaser.” She ignored my smirk in favor of the task at hand and I left mumbling to myself. She was right I didn’t think it was true. People pleaser conjured up all sorts of images none of which fit the one I claimed for myself. I ran her observation by a couple of friends on the off chance she might, maybe have a point. They dismissed it the idea as absurd and I tried to. The more I tried to shake it loose though the more it stuck with me like a burr on the back of a favorite sweater. I finally decided to consider it and over the course of a weekend realized she was right. I was in my brash outspoken way a people pleaser. I was like a mangy d...