I can remember the day my pattern of behaviour started. I went to boarding school when I was 9, for the first year it was great, everyone thought I was cute, my big sister was cool. I was bright, so teachers liked me.
Fast forward a bit, starting first year, I was 11. My parents were in Germany, so I was a day late coming back to school. Before the summer holidays I’d made plans, who I would share a bunk with, who I’d sit next to in class, I even had a boyfriend!
I walked in to my new dormitory, and all the beds were taken, except one in a grotty corner with the girls who didn’t speak English. Someone, some people, had come along who were better than me. I walked up to dinner alone, and there was my boyfriend, with one of the new girls. Someone better than me. I remember feeling alone and worthless. How could I change this? I got loud! And obnoxious, and picked on people I thought were not as good as me. I tried to get noticed, and I did get noticed, but not in a good way. I would do anything the popular kids asked me too, I’d take risks others wouldn’t. It didn’t help, it just made me seem weak and needy. Easy to the boys as well. The other kids hated me. I would do anything to fit in. I started smoking, I kissed boys. It didn’t work, they still hated me. Each week was frought with drama, a row, a boy, a rule break. This went on for a few years.
Eventually, one summer holiday I cracked, I didn’t want to go back to school. I wanted to go somewhere else.
Mum and Dad found me a new school, still boarding, but closer to home.
It was the same story, I wanted to be noticed, but I acted like an obnoxious tart to get noticed. Worse, the teachers didn’t know me, so didn’t know how to handle my behaviour. After a few months I begged to go back to my old school.
When I returned, things seemed different for a while, people thought I’d been brave to leave, but eventually I, and others around me, reverted to type and I was back to being easy and weak.
We lived in a village in Yorkshire, and I had started to make friends in the village, I was the new girl, exotic I guess. People seemed to like me, I made friends, had boyfriends. I loved being home. The holidays were a break from the constant effort of being whoever they wanted me to be. There was the usual teenage dramas, but nothing as bad as school.
At 15 I left school with more than a handful of GCSEs, and chose to go to the local 6th form to do A levels. I had a steady older boyfriend, and a part time job in a cafe.
Then someone better came along, this was someone who was just like me, but older, prettier and way cooler. I was soon relegated to an after thought of the village gang. I again acted out, behaved outrageously! I had no respect for my family or for myself. I thought I was a grown up, in reality I was a child fighting to be noticed, to go back to a simpler time.
At 17, we moved again, I decided not to carry on at school, and started full time work. Then, my parents split up. As I could see, it was because someone better came along.
It was as if a veil had been lifted. Someone better always comes along. There is always someone better than me. There is always someone more deserving of friendship and love than me. There is always someone prettier than me. So why bother trying?
I spent another year reinforcing my belief by being the worst person imaginable. I desperately needed to be better than the next person, there is always a clique, I wanted to be in it, but again, in my eyes I wasn’t good enough, so I acted out. I embarrassed myself and my family over and over again.
Eventually, by chance I met someone who pitied me enough to take me away from my life and allow me to start again. The relationship was unhealthy and I allowed him to treat me badly because I knew someone better would be along shortly.
At 20, I decided to try and gain a career, maybe I could be a better person. I think I believed I would be alone and need to support myself. I started university.
My first night in halls I met people who maybe, actually, could like me for me, and I began to grow in confidence. I realised these people were mature, with life experiences which allowed them to see me as a person of value. That they didn’t care what I looked like, they didn’t need me to be cool. There were also no established friendships yet, so I didn’t feel like an outsider.
Then, my unhealthy relationship ended. There had been other, better, people for him throughout our relationship. How did I deal with this?
I reverted to type again. I pushed away the people who could have helped me, and tried hard to make others like me, to join the cool crowd. I dropped out of uni and behaved abhorrently, in much the way I had at 17. I wanted to be the better person, I wanted to be chosen over someone else. I never was.
By 25, I think, I had started to grow up. My behaviour modified. I went back to uni, I concentrated on friends who had proved they could handle my behaviour, those who did not pity me, but supported me. They were very few. I began to build some self respect.
At 26 I moved again, to start over, a new me. I had spent a year alone, trying to find me, I had decided I would embrace me, who I was. There were nearly a few lapses in to unacceptable behaviour, fuelled by a desire to be liked by others who wanted me to he someone else. When I refused, they still liked me, respected me even. This was a huge learning curve for me.
Now, at 33, I think, I hope, that I am the better person. I no longer feel threatened by an invisible spectre of a better person. I have flaws, but they are a part of me. The people I have in my life are here because they like me for me, not because I can give them something, do something for them, or provide their weekly entertainment.
I’ve realised that the people that left me or moved on didn’t do it because I wasn’t good enough, but because they did what they needed to do for them, either at 11 years old or in their 40s.
I’ve realised that to think other peoples actions throughout my life were about me is actually quite self involved of me.
Most of all, I’m glad that during this process, this evolution of me, where I’ve tried to provide myself with validation in some horrific ways…. There was no Facebook.
And I thought I had it bad? Imagine trying to go through all this in this day and age?
Wife without a clue! 