thinking about being the 'low-maintenance' one—sister. friend. partner. daughter. etc.
about how being a younger sibling meant I was presumed to be dramatic, and how I couldn't be both dramatic and high maintenance. about the years that I allowed my own accomplishments and achievements to fall to the wayside in favor of celebrating someone else's because they were doing something more than mine, and I didn't assume that people could hold space for the both of our successes.
thinking about how I've always known when I was the least liked member of a group, and about how exhausting it is to constantly feel second/third/fourth/fifth best in every conversation. about how being the newest friend to a group used to come with an acknowledgement that you weren't meant to be the important one, that you had to earn your place and the worthiness of being cared for. about how many times that led to me letting people imply that my thoughts or opinions didn't matter.
thinking about how when that still—still!—happens in my life these days, my instinct is to pull back from interaction and see if anyone cares—to test the same theory I've been honing since I was a teen.
thinking about how being an afterthought feels almost as intentional and unkind as being ignored outright.
thinking about how many times I've played along and pretended it felt fine to have birthdays/anniversaries/milestones ignored because I knew that partners/friends/family members were busy—about how many times this behavioral pattern has been pointed out to me by other people and how many times I've said "it's fine!" in response.
thinking about how I've always hated the song the moment I knew, and how I've never been willing to articulate why. I know why. It's because 'you should've been here, you should've walked through that door' is too real, too harsh, and too reminiscent of the person I've let myself become to some of the people in my life.
thinking about how low-maintenance, for me, has led to shouldering the burdens of others while knowing full well that I'm their transitional person, their 'I need someone to talk to' person, their second choice, their next-best thing.
thinking about how low-maintenance was only the next phase of emotional awareness which was itself an evolution from social anxiety. about how low-maintenance can turn to no-maintenance can turn to going-going-gone before I know it.
thinking about how stifling it's felt to be the 'oh don't worry about me, i'll figure something out' friend, the 'oh, you can't make our date tonight? no worries!' girlfiriend, the 'my best friend became your best friend and now we don't talk' one. thinking about how irritating it is to let people constantly string along my name in a possessive with another's—mother's daughter, sister's sibling, boss' employee, friends' acquaintance—because I know correcting it is a lost cause.
thinking about how I became low-maintenance to make myself easy to be around but somehow managed to make that version of myself the hardest one to be.
thinking. thinking. thinking.
