From Class Clown to People Pleaser: Breaking Free from the Need to Entertain
Walking the Buffoonery Tightrope
I've never thought of myself as a people-pleaser. When I imagine a people-pleaser, I picture someone who distorts their opinions to fit in, someone who agrees to bake for a fundraiser despite having four kids, two jobs, and is going to night school.
As an only child, being a roommate and sharing have never been on my lists of talents—any of my former roommates will attest (as will my husband). Generally, I tend to prioritize my needs first, and then perhaps consider if my children are being fed and clothed. I’m exaggerating. But it’s no stretch to say that putting others first in motherhood was an adjustment.
All this to say that my holiday epiphany caught me off guard. It seems that there are myriad ways that we can people-please. Growing up, I embraced the role of the jester, presumably to shift the focus off my loneliness and low self-esteem. Entertaining others became a lifelong pursuit, from being unanimously voted Class Clown in high school to "Most Likely to be the Next Dr. Phil" in graduate school. Unbeknownst to me, making others laugh was a form of people-pleasing.
When I say it like that, duh.
Everyone in my tight inner circle (and now all of you!) knows about my mercurial nature. For those who follow astrology, I'm a Gemini. One moment, I'll be blasting music and dancing all over the house; the next, I'll have acquired what we fondly call "Victorian Wasting Disease," lying in bed asking my loved ones to deliver me tea. However, I don't feel that these natural shifts in my rhythms and energy levels are normal or acceptable in the world at large. In fact, I was consistently reminded of that as a child.
When I’m about to engage in sustained human contact for days at a time, my mood takes a downward descent. It's not that I'm an introvert; it's that I can quickly shift from being an extrovert to an introvert for no identifiable reason. When you feel the world expects a clown, and all you have to offer is a wet mop, discordance ensues.
I'd never compare my minor level of amateur hilarity to greats like Robin Williams or Chris Farley. However, on a smaller scale, I can appreciate the pain of hosting warring internal factions.
Over Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, we had guests in town and also traveled to visit friends. Rather than being entirely excited, I found myself spiraling into incapacitating anxiety. Only through steady reflection did I realize that the cause of the unrest was my strong need to please people.
My friends and family are undoubtedly beautiful, accepting human beings. If I showed up without my usual vigor, I'm positive things would unfold as normal. It's the pressure I put on myself to perform that's at issue. As I mentioned, the revelation was surprising—in this way, I am a people-pleaser.
It takes realization and work to change limiting beliefs and behaviors. Constant self-reflection can feel arduous, as can conscious, deliberate efforts to grow. All of this is necessary, however, in order to become more authentic and true to yourself. I still engaged in a respectable level of buffoonery over the holidays. But I also allowed myself to embrace the downtime without battering myself into picking up the pace. In 2024, and always, balance is the name of the game.
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