Poem: Being a people pleaser

Listen to the spoken version

I had a cake when I was younger,

it was Imperfectly done,

I baked it myself, build from scratch, one flavour by one.

It was beautifully iced,

all the colours I loved,

it was me in a pastry,

it was always enough.

And when I was hungry,

I would take out a piece,

have a bit to enjoy  

but leave most to keep.

One day someone saw

for the very first time,

they said, “Hey, this looks good.

Is it yours? Can I try?”

Let me have some.” they urged and, of course, I was happy to share

knowing they liked my cake,

it felt good, I felt heard.

They wanted to try

this thing that was mine,

so I shared, first a crumb, then two more, then a bite.

They liked it, enjoyed it, they got it for free.

So they kept on asking

and I, I felt seen.

I was never alone,

became part of a team. I was welcome, at home, grew my cakeselfesteem.

It was all fine ‘till

the pieces were gone. None left on the plate

but the very last one.

In my heart it was clear

that the last one was mine

but before I could grab it

they gave it a try.

They took it and ate it

and I realised then,

they’d fully stopped asking

If I’d share it with them. I felt empty and vague,

useless to my core but my answer was prompt: I would have to bake more. But when in the kitchen

it hit me at once,

I’d forgotten the recipe,

my secrets ingridients lost and long gone.

So I started baking different pies: blueberry, chocolate... I baked what they liked. I started inventing new recipes, tailored to their taste, a cherry on top and a little more cream.

It was no longer my own little miracle cake,

turned from the way that I’d made it

to what they liked me to bake.

It kept me busy,

kept me by their side but piece by piece it dimmed my own little light. After a long while

I had so many cakes but none were left that matched my own taste.

So I offfered and offered and offered again, stilled my hunger in knowing,

it tasted sufficient to them.

One day, my mind went blank:

Too many recipes stored in the back of my brain. I was scared I was gonna make the pieces all wrong, make every mistake again and again

Unsatisfied with myself and the reactions I’d get, I finally realised I’d stopped baking for me,

but done it for them.

I missed my fun little cake,

that had been a reflection of me,

missed the joy I had found

in my own company.

Missed the icing on top

and the dreams that it held,

but what I missed most

was doing it for myself.

  On struggling to change:

“Stop being a people pleaser, my friends say to me and I laugh nervously: “ I know, I know, that's my problem.

I struggle with it, but I'm trying to change.Change I know it's not good”, I admit. I make myself small and feel ashamed and I realize, I Realize that's what people pleasing is. “Yeah, you've got nothing to prove. Just be yourself. It's fine, fine. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon.”, then they turn around,

have new thoughts in a second: “Hey, you should come tomorrow. It's gonna be fun. We can go to the function together. I'd rather not be alone because there's this friend I'm avoiding and if you were there I think it'd be easier to burden.” And my brain immediately clutches onto this new piece of info and I nod and I say: “Of course, of course. Don't go alone. We'll have fun together, I'm sure.” And within a second I did it again. I people pleased the same friend that a second ago told me to stop people pleasing. And I can't even blame them because it's me who always makes the decision.

  (Poem: people pleaser)