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For as long as I can remember, I’ve always tried to please people. I learned to become adaptable under any social situation, to “fit in” and not stand out. God forbid I step on anyone’s toes. I’ve always had a need to have people like me.

This grew to a deep desire to help people, to be “the one” that they turned to. In other words, I’ve felt that I need to be needed. I’ve started work on my Enneagram. For those unfamiliar, it’s designed to bring self-understanding to the nine different personality types. There are tests to find out which personality type one fits under. From my limited experience with it so far (as well as from discussing it with others who’ve gone through it, including my partner-in-crime on this website, Christine Garvin) it’s damn accurate.

It’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that I fall into Type Two, The Helper. The attributes it describes, both healthy and unhealthy, are ones I relate to strongly. It’s like the authors looked at my life and wrote the section specifically for me. On one hand it can be overwhelming to realize some of these things about yourself, but on the other it’s also comforting. Like, “oh great! Someone understands.” It feels good to not feel alone.

Some of the passages that ring true:

powerful desire to be liked and approved by everyone in their social sphere
like to see themselves as their friends’ number-one intimate, their closest confidante
become increasingly needy, they expect others to respond in particular ways

What underlies all of these feelings is the lack of self-love. I expend a lot of energy outwards, constantly assessing situations, figuring out how I can please those around me. I’m guessing that my deeply rooted belief is that by doing this I will have the same thing returned to me. This is what I’ve been counting on to fill a gaping hole in my heart and soul. Can you see a flaw in that?

This becomes amplified in the context of a romantic relationship. I come to count on the love that I receive from my partner to feel fulfilled. When I don’t get it in the exact way that I feel I should be getting it (which isn’t to say that it’s not forthcoming) it feels to me that it’s missing, and that hole grows bigger.

Here’s the thing: I can fill this hole myself. Over the past year and a half, since I split with my wife, I’ve known this to be true. I’ve written about it; I’ve discussed this ad nauseum with others. Apparently, though, I haven’t been very good at practicing it. At least not inside a relationship. I need to give myself what I give freely to others. I need to give myself what others give me.

I’ve been meditating lately on practicing self-love. The other morning I had this picture in my head of a hole with a pile of dirt beside it. I had a shovel in my hand and I was scraping this pile into the hole, trying to fill it. It was a struggle. The dirt was heavy; I pulled on the shovel, scraping; my face went taut. Something rose from my chest up into my throat. It felt constricting. My lips quivered.

The idea of holding myself, soothing myself, telling myself that everything is OK, is intense to me. The feeling I get when I practice this is sometimes almost unbearable. It can bring me to tears. I want it, but I am finding it hard to give myself.

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