I’ve always been pretty proud of my easy-going personality. I’m helpful, I don’t like making a fuss, and I’m generally pretty good at fitting around other people….generally. All excellent qualities, I feel. Five stars for Hannah. Lovely to work with. Would recommend!
Except recently I’ve started noticing how often “easy-going” Hannah says, “Yep, no problem!” when there is, in fact, a problem. Not a call-the-emergency-services problem, obviously. More a I don’t have time for this, don’t particularly want to do it and am now going to have to rearrange half my week kind of problem.
And the most annoying bit is that nobody has pressured me into anything. There are no guns against heads. Someone has just asked a completely reasonable question and given me every opportunity to say no. But before I’m given my brain the chance to engage, my mouth has already committed, and my head is nodding enthusiastically. Even though at that point my brain is in the corner with its arms crossed looking bemused.
Then, later, I’m annoyed. Partly with the person who asked me, even though I know they’ve not done anything wrong. But mainly with myself. Because I’ve done it again. I’ve prioritised being helpful, doing the right thing, being the good girl, whilst totally ignoring what might actually be best for me.
I’ve had a lifetime of this, but in recent years I’ve started to wonder whether I really am as easy-going as I think I am. Or if, in fact, I’ve just gotten really good at being easy for other people. As that’s a whole different kettle of fish entirely.
When ‘easy-going’ stops being easy
To be clear, I genuinely am pretty chill. Unless you cut me up when my kids are in the car! (That’s a road rage story for another time!)
If I don’t care whether we meet at ten or eleven, then I really don’t care. I’m not secretly sitting at home seething because somebody chose eleven while whispering, “This is fine” through gritted teeth.
But I’ve realised there are plenty of other times when I do have a preference. Or something is inconvenient. Or I’m already stretched. And yet out comes the trusty old “Whatever works for you!” before my own opinion has even had the chance to reach the front of the queue.
I think some of that comes from spending years feeling like certain bits of me needed toning down. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too direct. Too much. You learn pretty quickly that being accommodating gets a much warmer reception than being the person saying, “Actually, this doesn’t work for me.” So perhaps somewhere along the way I got a little too good at it.
Because there’s a point where being flexible stops being about genuinely not minding and starts becoming a reluctance to risk somebody thinking you’re difficult. And THAT is where I’m starting to question things. I don’t want to stop being easy-going because I quite like that bit of me. I just don’t want “easy-going” to mean everyone else gets to be comfortable at my expense.
The helpful one
Being helpful is another one I’ve started looking at a little more suspiciously. Because I LOVE being helpful. Give me a problem to solve and I’m in. I’ll find you the person you need, send you the link, come up with three ideas you hadn’t thought of and possibly become considerably more invested in sorting it out than you are. Possibly? Who am I kidding?…I will definitely be more invested.
This is particularly true in business. A client can ask me for one thing and suddenly I’m thinking, Ooh, but if we did this as well… And then I’ve spotted something else. And that connects to another thing. Before long, what was supposed to be a fairly contained piece of work has developed several additional limbs and I’m happily giving them all away for free.
And some of that is absolutely one of the reasons I’m good at what I do. I don’t want to stop seeing the extra thing just because it wasn’t technically in the brief. That would be like asking my brain to notice fewer things, and good luck with that. But again, I’ve started noticing the difference between doing more because I’m excited, interested and genuinely think it will help, and doing more because I have that little nagging feeling that what I’ve already done might not be enough.
Enough for what, exactly? Enough for the client to be happy? Enough for them to think I’m good at my job? Enough to justify what they’ve paid me? Enough for them to like me? Because “I always overdeliver” sounds like a fabulous business principle until you realise you’re routinely delivering 150% while only charging for 100%. At which point it becomes less of a business strategy and more of an unpaid internship in your own company.
Perfect is safer
Perfectionism gets tangled up in this too. I’ve always cared about doing things properly, and I’m not planning to start merrily chucking out crap in the name of personal growth. There are standards. But there are also times when I know something is good enough and STILL can’t leave the bloody thing alone.
One more read-through. One tiny tweak. Move that sentence. Put it back again. Change a word. Decide the original word was better. Stare at it for another ten minutes as though the I can summon the correct answer with my eyeballs. At that point, I’m not sure we’re talking about high standards anymore.
If I am honest with myself I know I’m removing every possible opportunity for someone to think I’ve got something wrong. And gaslighting myself into thinking it’s my attention to detail, or perfectionist streak.
Overexplaining is probably part of the same family too. I can turn a perfectly straightforward email into something requiring chapters if I’m worried there’s any chance of being misunderstood. The number of times I have thrown what was meant to be a quick email, and invariably evolved into my life’s work, into ChatGPT with the prompt ‘make it less rambly’.
Here’s my answer. Here’s why that’s my answer. Here’s some context. Here’s a small piece of supporting evidence. And while we’re here, would you like to know what happened in 2007 that explains why I think this way?
I joke about it, but there is something underneath all that explaining. If I give you ALL the information, you’ll understand me properly. If you understand me properly, maybe you won’t think badly of me. And suddenly that six-paragraph email looks a little less like being thorough and a little more like me trying to control an outcome I can’t actually control.
Anything to avoid the awkward conversation
Now’s the part where things get particularly ridiculous, because I am absolutely not someone that actively avoids conflict. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go out in search of it. Who wants that?
But if someone I care about is being treated unfairly, then I’m hunting down that conflict, Liam Neeson style. I’ve got the skills to ask difficult questions… I can challenge people. I can become an absolute pain in the arse when required.
Give me an injustice and apparently all concerns about being easy-going have left the building. If there’s a wrongdoing afoot, my flag’s in the air and I’m leading the march. Yeah, I’m gonna chain myself to something in the name of fairness if I need to too!
But disappointing somebody personally? Ah, different department. Suddenly I’m explaining. Softening. Apologising. Adding a smiley face so nobody accidentally thinks I’m furious because I’ve said I can’t do Thursday.
Even saying ‘no’ comes with an entire supporting statement for me. I can’t just give you the cold hard facts. I need to set the scene for you, give the full background story of why I can make it, what else I am doing instead, and a hundred other bits of evidence about how I am still indeed a decent human, in spite of letting you down.
And the crazy thing is that most people aren’t giving any of this a second thought. They’ve read “Sorry, I can’t do Thursday”, thought okay, and moved on with their lives while I’m still mentally preparing my defence for a court case nobody has brought. I think that’s where the fear of disappointing people really shows itself for me. It’s not necessarily that I can’t say no. It’s that I want to make absolutely certain you’re still okay with me afterwards if I do.
When did this become my personality?
This is the bit I find most fascinating. Because when we talk about masking, it can sound like something quite deliberate. You put the mask on for work, networking or a client meeting, do your best impression of a person who definitely knows what they’re doing, then come home and take it off again.
But what if you’ve been doing some of this stuff for most of your life, so you genuinely don’t know where all the lines are anymore. I know I am helpful, and kind. I like making people happy. And I really know how much I care about doing a good job. So, I don’t want to start examining every decent thing I’ve ever done and decide none of it was real and I’ve actually just been one enormous mask in leopard print clothing.
But there are definitely bits I’ve started questioning. Do I actually not mind, or have I just become really good at saying I don’t? Am I making this thing better because I want to, or because I’m scared it isn’t good enough? Am I explaining because the other person needs more information, or because I need them to understand that I am Definitely Not Wrong? And would I still be quite so accommodating if there was absolutely no chance of anyone being disappointed in me?
That last one is a bit of a bugger. Because once you’ve been The Helpful One, The Reliable One, The Easy-Going One and The One Who Will Sort It for long enough, people come to expect it. More importantly, you come to expect it.
So where does the masking stop and my actual personality start? No idea. Helpful, I know. But maybe I don’t need to completely unpick it. Maybe I just need to notice the bits that don’t feel like a choice anymore.
So… who ARE you trying to impress?
I’ve seen enough advice about people pleasing to know I’m now supposed to announce that I no longer care what anybody thinks of me. Unfortunately, that would be bollocks. Of course I care what people think of me. I want my clients to think I’m good at what I do. I want my friends to think I’m a good friend. I want the people I love to know they can rely on me. And, as a general life ambition, I’d quite like most people who encounter me not to leave thinking, “God, she’s an idiot.”
I don’t think caring is the problem. It’s what I sometimes make myself do to guarantee the outcome. Because I can’t actually guarantee that everyone will like me. I can’t make sure nobody is ever disappointed. I can’t explain myself so perfectly that I’m never misunderstood. And I definitely can’t keep giving everyone 150% without eventually wondering why I’m bloody exhausted.
So, I’m trying to notice it sooner. The automatic yes. The unnecessary apology. The extra hour spent making something better that was already absolutely fine. The six paragraphs of explanation when two sentences would probably have done the job. Not so I can become less helpful, less caring or less me. Just so I get a say in it too.
Because maybe the question isn’t really “Who are you trying to impress?” Maybe it’s “How much of yourself are you changing to make sure you do?”
And I think I’m finally ready to stop auditioning quite so hard.