I recently attended a high-profile personal development event. The speakers were crème de la crème: Tony Robbins, Gary Vaynerchuk, Shark Tank’s ‘Mr. Wonderful’ to name a few. The kind of conference where you jump up and down, have multiple rounds of ugly cry, become best friends with the people sitting next to you, and yes, experience incredible personal breakthrough.

Sometimes the breakthroughs come from unusual places. I happened to be sitting next to an interesting gentleman. He was the president of a company. Tall, dark, handsome, confident, intelligent, attentive — the type of man that makes a woman’s heart go pitter patter (ladies, you understand). We bonded over Myers Briggs, Dale Carnegie, and our cocaine-like addition to reading books. In the middle of a rather deep conversation about a business loss, I said to him ‘I really admire the way you were able to pick back up and start all over again. It shows courage.’ To which he responded, ‘Not really. It’s just in my nature to keep going.’ I winced. It felt like a giant industrial machine just plowed through my field of kind sentiments. Later in the conversation, I gave him another compliment about a particular mindset he possessed. Whack. He swatted that one away too. We eventually started talking about the 5 Love Languages. He revealed that his main love language was words of affirmation. My face must have betrayed my bewilderment. 

I see so many people messing this up.

Well-meaning, kind people. People who want to excel in life and in relationships, but keep shooting themselves in the foot.

Here’s the big idea: dismissing compliments erodes your influence.

Let’s look at some common compliments.

• ‘I really like that sweater on you’ — complimenting a person’s appearance
• ’You’re right. I never really thought of it that way. You’re so insightful’ — complimenting a person’s mind
• ‘You did a great job on the presentation. Terrific work!’ — complimenting a person’s skill or effort

Now let’s look at how people reject compliments.
They use false humility. 
​To your ‘I like your sweater’ compliment, this person may respond:

• ‘You mean this ol’ thing?’
• ‘It wasn’t that expensive, I got it on the sale rack.’
• ‘It’s actually really cheaply made. It pills a lot.’

All of these show that they don’t actually value what they have. Or they do and they’re pretending they don’t in an attempt to look humble. Which begs the question…If you don’t like the sweater yourself, why are you wearing it? Why do you want me to think less of you & your stuff? It seems disingenuous at best.

They underplay their abilities. 
To your ‘great job on the presentation’ compliment, this person may respond:

• ‘Well, it wasn’t my best presentation. Usually I’m more on point.’
• ‘I actually put the slide deck together at the last minute.’
• ‘Julie did most of the work, so you should really congratulate her.’

In all of these examples, the recipient is disassociating the end result with their own abilities. They’re downplaying their own efforts.

They focus on the negative. 

• To the ‘I like your sweater’ compliment, this person may reply, ‘it’s actually way too tight. I need to go on a diet and lose weight.’ 
• To the ‘you’re so thoughtful’ compliment, a person may reply, ‘actually I’m giving this to you so I can hit the road. Traffic is sooo bad this time of day.’ 

In both examples, the response shifts from the positive (the sweater or the thoughtfulness) to the negative (their weight or the bad traffic).

They make it transactional. 
Another bizarre response is the recipient’s knee-jerk reaction to compliment right back. ‘I like your sweater.’ ‘Oh, I like yours too!’ ‘You’re so insightful’ ‘Oh, you’re smart too!’ Just, stop. This isn’t a tennis match. You don’t owe the other person anything. Compliments are a gift, not a tit-for-tat game.

They belittle. 
This one is more rare. To your ‘I agree with you, you have interesting insights,’ compliment, this person will respond, ‘You just mirrored what I said. Congratulations, you can hear.’ Overly-sarcastic. Biting. In some twisted way, this person takes compliments as a way to puff up their own ego and put you down. It’s an effort to get the upper hand. RUN.

What’s so bad about rejecting compliments?
I mean, there are worse things I could be doing, like torturing puppies or stealing canes from the elderly. What’s the big deal?

It makes you look insecure.
When you reject a compliment about your appearance, skills, mental abilities, or efforts, it makes you look weak. It makes you look like you don’t believe in yourself. If you don’t believe in your value, why should anyone else?

​It communicates you cannot receive.
Relationships are a give and take. We all like to be looked after. We also enjoying doing the looking after. The healthiest relationships are ones where both individuals are able to give and receive in a fluid, organic way. By rejecting a compliment you demonstrate that you are only comfortable giving, not receiving. That’s boring. But if I receive, won’t that make me too reliant on others and therefore weak? On the contrary. While you might be able to take care of things all by yourself, acknowledging that a life with others edifies your own is a position of strength.

It’s insulting.
Giving someone a compliment is like giving a gift: unexpected, thoughtful, joy-producing. Can you imagine a birthday celebration where someone opened a gift you gave them and instead of expressing excitement and gratitude, they walk right up to you and place the gift back in your lap? Ouch. Rejecting a compliment is like rejecting a gift. It’s yucky, rude, and frankly embarrassing.

It’s low-level gas-lighting.
When you give someone a compliment and they reject it, they are not just rejecting the compliment, they are rejecting your evaluation of reality. We all come to our conclusions based on obvious facts (at least we like to believe so) —e.g. he held the door open for me, therefore he is thoughtful. When you reject the compliment, you are forcing the giver to replay the whole sequence of events in their mind to make sure they picked up on all the cues correctly. In a subtle way, you’re making them doubt reality. It’s low-level gas-lighting. With similar repeat occurrences, the compliment-giver will associate you with feelings of being uncertain in their thought processes. This will make confident people want to avoid you in the future.

It’s contrary to your own interests.
We don’t attract what we want, we attract who we are. If you are overly critical and routinely reject compliments, you will find, overtime, that you attract critical people. If you want your life filled with people who will encourage you and build you up, stop rejecting overtures of people who are trying to do just that. Negative energy attracts negative people. That will not serve you well in life.

So, how do I respond to a compliment?
Accept it, humbly. Smile, say ‘thank you’, then move on in the conversation.

That’s it? Yes, that’s it.

If it helps, mentally imagine yourself receiving a birthday gift. Taking it in. Owning it. Letting it fill you with joy.

Sometimes, receiving a gift can be a bit of a surprise. The shirt really isn’t your style or the book is not really in your preferred genre. Or sometimes the giver misses the mark completely and gives you something bizarre. Receiving such a gift can be a bit awkward because you’re not sure you like it. Yet, you smile, accept it gracefully, and move on. And here’s the oh-so-funny thing. That shirt you didn’t like? You try it on later in the evening and it looks incredible. It ends up being a staple in your wardrobe. And that book you initially thought was weird? It ends up opening your world to a whole new way of thinking. It becomes one of your favorites that you frequently recommend to others.

Like a present, some compliments take us by surprise. We need to try them on for size, digest them, read between the lines, and check out the footnotes. They reveal aspects of ourselves we did not see initially. These are the compliments that live long after the initial delivery and end up shaping us in critical ways.

So say, ‘thank you.’ Say it again and again, even if the compliment is shocking.

You’ll notice the more you say it, the more compliments you receive.

The inverse is also true.

​See, that’s the thing about rejecting compliments; soon enough, people stop giving them.

​What is it about pain that makes us want to run in the other direction?

I’m not talking about when we experience pain ourselves (although we’re not rousing fans of that either). I’m talking about when someone in our lives is in the throws of deep suffering and we’d rather watch episodes of Ready Set Cook than check in.

These aren’t pint-size pains like Martha the arthritic senior, Samuel who just broke up with his girlfriend, or Kat whose cat (also named Kat) passed away. Those are on the ‘manageable’ side of the pain spectrum, and thus much easier to wade into. Not so hurtful, easy to get over. It’s fairly simple to be there for your friend amidst this sort of low-impact pain.

I’m talking about the heart-wrenching, stomach-churning, wail-producing sort of pain that leaves you with a metaphysical conviction that life is just not fair. I’m talking about high-impact pain. Some examples include:

• Your young cousin just lost his sweet wife to swift and unmerciless cancer.
  
• Your co-worker loses her first born to a miscarriage in the third trimester.
• Your niece, completely in love with her fiancé, was left at the altar. For her best friend.
• Your friend has had chronic, undiagnosed pain for the last 3 years. You can see it in her eyes that she is suffering deeply and has lost hope.
• Your well-meaning, genuinely kind, hard-working uncle just lost this third job in 5 years. The shame at telling his family is more than he can bear.
• Your neighbor’s teenage son was just killed by a drunk driver. 
• A relative very publicly lost her marriage due to infidelity. There were kids involved. You hear she hasn’t left her bed in weeks.
• A family friend who has been deeply depressed for months has just been hospitalized on account of trying to end his own life.

In all of the above scenarios you’re faced with the same question: do I call, visit, reach out? Essentially, do I engage?

If your answer every time is a resounding yes, well then, you are incredible. You are courageous and kind. The world does not deserve you.

If you’re like me, you’re ashamed to admit that on your bad days, the answer to this question is no. The reaction of many to high-impact suffering is to avoid. You know you should want to check in and provide comfort, but deep down, you’d rather not. You’d rather curl up under a blanket and not face them. Then you feel guilty that you don’t want to reach out, which makes it 1000x worse.

You find stupidly meaningless things to do instead of contacting them. Re-organizing your silverware drawer. Binging Marie Kondo on Netflix. Looking at houses you can’t afford on Zillow. Stalking high school acquaintances on social media. Meanwhile, in your head, the lies you tell yourself to help deal with your own cowardice include:

• If I reach out when I don’t want to, it wouldn’t be genuine concern. I’d be faking it. I don’t want to be a fake. They deserve better than a fake.
• They probably have so many other *more genuine* people checking in, so if I don’t, my absence won’t be felt.

Or probably the worst of them all…

• I want to respect their privacy during this hard time. Sounds good, but it’s more self-congratulatory than helpful.

(None of these, btw, are the real reason)

So we don’t reach out.

We distance. We ignore. And then so much time passes that it now feels awkward to engage — even if the pain, scandal, or loss has now passed. The giant elephant in the room — I wasn’t there when you needed me — makes it easier to continue our Avoidance Campaign. Regret gives birth to shame. So we soldier on, valiantly, in the shadows. Only to wake up one morning and realize a year has passed. I-don’t-know-how-to-approach-this-person-in-their-pain has suddenly morphed into I-shunned-a-person-who-was-suffering. It’s inexcusable and unsettling. We’re left wondering How could I be so awful? Is there hope for a meaningful relationship with this person going forward? How on earth will I show my face to them again? Hint: we usually don’t.

​Meanwhile, on the other side of the isle, we have the person experiencing the suffering. What exactly is going through their mind, you ask?

Step 1 is acknowledging the pain to themselves.
This is part of me. This is part of my life now. I must determine how to live a fulfilled life with this suffering. No more pity parties.

Step 2 is acknowledging the pain to others.
I’ve lived through years of chronic, physical pain. You get to the point where the pain is so bad, and for such an extended period of time, that you can’t keep it from others. Withholding feels a lot more like lying. Withholding also expends too much energy, energy that is better used elsewhere when your tank is already on empty. Putting on a fake face and pretending everything is okay is no longer an option. You have to accept that your emotions will manifest what your body is experiencing. You will come to find that once you’ve embraced this, speaking the brutal truth suddenly feels comfortable.
​
A typical run-in with an acquaintance during my pain period went something like this:
     ‘So, how’s it going, MaryBeth?’
     ‘Actually I’m not doing that well today.’
    ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could stop & chat, but I have to go. Nice seeing you.’

​Mmmmkay. I’ll just sit here and nurse my gaping wounds, now increased by that power-packed jab to my vulnerability.

P.S. have you noticed that most people who ask the ‘how are you question’ expect a positive response, and, upon receiving a negative one, seem to be irritated and inconvenienced? ‘How dare you dampen my day with your bad news!’ They seem to say.

Step 3 is settling into quasi-isolation.
You still have to go to work and run errands, but when it comes to your private life, people engage with you differently. Suddenly, the phone calls stop. The invites stop. Instead of distractions and encouragement, you’re left to feast on nothing but your suffering. The thing that makes pain unbearable isn’t the feeling itself, it’s the sensation of being alone in it. It’s the ‘no one understands’ ‘no one cares’ conga line that seems to be on repeat in your head, only bolstered, might I add, by interactions like the one above.

​Having been on both the giving and receiving end of suffering avoidance, I’ve always wondered why we do this. Why do we avoid people who are in pain? Why don’t we engage those who are suffering?

I’ll tell you why. We’re afraid of three things.

→ Afraid of saying the wrong thing. 
We’ve all been the recipient of cutting comments in response to our pain. The kind of comments that mean well, but sting. We’d hate to say something that will injure the person further. Driven by the fear of saying the wrong thing, we say nothing at all.

 → Afraid that the platitudes won’t cut it. 
When faced with someone’s brutal suffering, the only thing that seems to come to mind are useless platitudes like:
     Everything happens for a reason
     It will get better
     This will make you stronger
     Time will heal
It even feels robotic saying these to a suffering person. The phrases are devoid of power. As Faulkner would say, they are “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Platitudes don’t help, which leads me to the last fear…

 → Afraid we don’t have what it takes to make it better. 
This is the crux of it. We know, deep down, the sufferer’s pain is so big, entrenched, and expansive, that we don’t have what it takes to make it better. We cannot fix it. And what we can’t fix, we avoid. I will not be enough for this person, so why show up in the first place.

Okay, MaryBeth. I get it now. What can I do instead of avoid?

Below are three options that have personally ministered to me in my season of pain.

Hold space.
Be free of the expectation to ‘fix’ a person’s problems. The suffering person knows you can’t solve their pain. In fact, if a potential solution exists, your friend has tried it already. What the sufferer really wants (and desperately needs) is your presence. They want someone to bear witness to their life, in the good times and the very, very, bad. Show up to their house with no agenda. Maybe you’ll talk about the pain, maybe you won’t, but at least you’re present. You’re there with them, ready to weather the storm. Show up. Get off the Solutions Committee and get on the Presence Committee.

Playfully distract.
Every sufferer wants to be whisked away from their pain. The best gift you can give them is a mental escape. Show up at their house and say ‘Get in the car we’re going to the park!’ Take them to comedy show. Suggest a walk around the block and don’t take no for an answer 😉. All of these things help them get out of their head, which is a good thing. It is there where they agonize over the pain. Having their mind dwell on something other than the pain, at least for a few hours, is like a drink of cold water in the desert: satisfying, rejuvenating, needed.

Manage the conversation.
Your friend is already overspent with their own emotions. The last thing they want to do is manage yours. Commit to becoming CEO of the interaction. Call them up on the phone and talk about yourself and what is going on in your life. Talk about your job, your kids, an exciting vacation you have planned. Don’t ask them about their pain or how they are doing. Remove any conversational responsibility from them. Carry the conversation. Give them the gift of an interaction that is both low effort and free of any pain talk. It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s quite refreshing.

 → → The key to implementing these three strategies is decisiveness. 
Don’t ask your suffering friend if they want you to come over or they want to talk. Chances are they’ll say no because the thought of talking about their pain and managing your response to it is more than they can bear. Instead, assume they would enjoy the company (they would) and implement. 
​
Confident. Grounded. Present. This sort of execution will instantly make your friend relax. They’ll be able to breathe a sigh of relief leaning on your strength as a container for their pain. An oasis in the desert. A quiet space in a crowded room. Beautifully held, refreshingly seen.

Normal ‘no’ conversations usually go something like this:
Person 1: ‘Hey! Sam and I are going to the zoo next Saturday, want to come?’
Person 2: ‘Hell no, hate the zoo! I’d be up for meeting you for ice cream after 😉’
--
Person 1: ‘Ugh. I can’t make it tonight, can we reschedule for next Thursday?’
Person 2: ‘I already have plans on Thursday. Sorry :/’
​
Some people struggle with this basic dynamic. They struggle with disappointing others, they struggle with stating their needs plainly, they struggle with saying no. So they don’t. In so doing, they become a Doormat — a lifelong invitation to be walked over.
​
Instead of ‘no,’ Doormats often use the following phrases, almost reflexively:
    ‘Ok, that works,’
    ‘That’s fine’
    ‘Sounds good to me’
    ‘Okay, I’ll move stuff around’

Capitulation is their primary language. They have learned to disassociate themselves with their needs, wants, desires, emotions, and commitments.

Doormats come in many types:

1. The Timids. This individual speaks quietly, just above a whisper. They are skittish and unsure. You fear to say anything too strongly in their presence, lest you blow them over with your certitude. This is your ‘yes, ma’am’ ‘no ‘ma’am’ type who you quickly forget 5 minutes after meeting them, and re-meeting them, and meeting them again. 🤦‍♀️
2. The Icy Colds. This person will do what you want but they are passive aggressive about it. They give stone cold looks. They freeze you out. They may mock you. While they let people walk all over them, they have at least enough self-awareness to realize that it shouldn’t be happening, and their behavior suggests that the icy attitude is punishment enough for the crime.
3. The Chameleons. This is the person that constantly shifts their demeanor and persona based on who is in the room. They are interpersonal Jedis adept at reading the room and determining what version of themselves is needed to please others. Don’t confuse this for a mysterious person: mysteries can be unravelled, chameleons are clouds that keep changing shape. This is the person that, no matter how long you know them, you never actually know them.

At the end of the day, doormats bend themselves to the whims of others. They painstakingly attempt to be the person others want them to be, and in the process, have a hollow identity. Encountering a doormat gives you that ‘lonely feeling’ in your core that makes you want to buy a one way ticket in the other direction. Which is peak irony, because doormats are doing everything in their power to make you stay.

How do people become doormats?

1. High exposure to criticism. When people are exposed to intense and repeated criticism, especially in their formative years, they internalize that they are worth very little. They learn to not value their own opinions, preferences, and values. Better not rock the boat. Someone who possess this mindset this will have trouble standing up for anything, let alone themselves.
2. Lack of connection. People crave human connection. Deep, meaningful, connection. The type where I see you and you see me. Where I feel known and loved. If people experience long periods of isolation, lack of support or interest, or even prolonged levels of superficiality, it makes people thirsty. Thirsty for validation and affirmation. Thirsty for something real. This thirstiness leads to acceptance of behaviors not normally tolerated. I’ll take what I can get. Alas, you become a doormat. You’re the starving man on the desert island eating the musty seaweed to survive.
3. Sweet disposition. Some children are just born with kinder demeanors and a propensity to please. They don’t like conflict and would rather everyone be in harmony. In the fight vs. flight scenario, this child will flee. Every. Single. Time. Because they are so sweet, they are naturally prone to people walking all over them. Without the proper attention and guidance from the parent, this child can easily grow up to be a doormat. Which leads me to the next point..
4. Narcissistic influence. This could be a child with a narcissistic parent, or an adult with a narcissistic spouse. Narcissists are consumed with their own brilliance and use others as pawns to gratify their ego and further their aspirations. Narcissists are envious, exploitative, lack empathy, and require constant admiration. At the end of the day, narcissists view the world and everything in it through one lens: how does it relate to me? High levels of exposure to narcissistic abuse can train a person to view themselves not as their own person, but only in relation to others. To stay in a narcissist’s life, you must become a doormat. There is no other option — narcissists plow down anything contrary to their interests.

​Okay MaryBeth. I think I’m a bit of a doormat. How on earth do I stop?

When people identify that they have some doormat tendencies and aim to course-correct, they often make the mistake of swinging too far in the opposite direction. As a recovering doormat, let me warn you against these common extreme (& unhelpful) reactions:

• Excessive anger. Instead of saying ‘no I’d rather not’ you get all Maury Show on them. You say no, but angrily. ‘I can’t believe you think I would say yes to that! How dumb do you have to be, do you even know me?’ You just went from doormat to diva (and not the good kind). Anger has its place, but it’s certainly not when you’re saying no. We have to find the sweet spot between ‘pushover’ and ‘angry.’ Between ‘too nice to be valued’ and ‘too mean to be liked.’
• Parroting. We know we don’t want to be a doormat, so we find someone who isn’t and emulate them completely. We try to recreate their life in our own. We talk how they talk, dress how they dress, buy the car they drive, etc. We think by collecting all of their artifacts maybe, just maybe, the way they stand up for themselves will rub off on us. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
• Unabomber tendencies. This person throws up their hands and says f*ck it. I clearly can’t function healthily with other people in my life, so I’ll go it alone. They erect their own little Wall of China around their heart. Be careful. That wall you put up? It may block out pain, but it will also block out love.

​The above reflexes don’t address the root issues of a Doormat, they just mask them, stifle them, or re-direct them.

>> Here’s what a Doormat needs to do instead.

1. Get to know yourself.

Remember Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride? Every time she took up with a new man, she had her eggs prepared however he liked them. She didn’t actually know how she preferred her eggs. When the moment of reckoning came, and she came face to face with her own doormat tendencies, what she did was brilliant. She sat herself down in a diner and ordered every egg imaginable: scrambled, sunny side, poached, over-easy. All with the purpose of deciding once and for all how she liked her eggs. She would no longer be a chameleon. It was a powerful moment with a powerful lesson: know thyself. How do you start? Make a list of all your likes and dislikes. Start with the dislikes. People who don’t use turn signals. Dogs with human names. Josh Groban. And then the likes. Game show hosts. Getting lost in a bookstore. Little adventures in everyday moments. The lists should be long and fun and revealing. There is one rule, though: the likes can’t outnumber the dislikes.

2. Embrace your quirks.
Own the little things that make you you.
    I can only sleep on the right side of the bed
    Yellow m&m’s freak me out
    I get excited to watch Lawrence Welk re-runs on PBS
    Protein must be placed in the top left corner of a plate
    I hate missing previews
    Triangle pizza slices taste WAY better than squares
There’s nothing more confident than someone who not just accepts, but fully celebrates, the odd things about themselves. That sort of confidence is attractive. Embrace your quirks — the right sort of people will fall in love with them (and you!). And once you have your circle, who cares about everyone else?

3. Communicate your boundaries with kindness.
A ‘no’ doesn’t have to be delivered with a trumpet; it’s much better paired with playfulness. Here are some examples:

• I’m not really a skiing person. I’m much more of a sip-hot-cocoa-in-the-lodge type.
• I don’t normally do drive-bys. If you want to pick me up, you’ll have to come to the door ;)
• I have 3 major reports due on Friday. If this new project is urgent, tell me, which of the other three should drop in priority?
• So, you’ve been canceling on me a lot and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m boring or you are 😂
• I prefer a phone call to text. I get to hear your terrific voice that way!
• I’m not a vanilla fan, but in the future, a chocolate cupcake may result in a statue in your honor, King of the Cupcakes! xx

Why pair ‘no’ with anger when it goes so much better with kindness, cheekiness, and imagination?

4. Get (real) friends.
Sometimes I slip up. It’s usually when I’m feeling most vulnerable: sick, overspent, or not sleeping enough. I start look down on myself and that opens the door to the doormat mentality. The best people in my life usually call me on it. ‘Hey you seem down, what’s up?’ If you struggle in this area, one of the BEST things you can do is get people around you who actually care about you and will challenge you and get real with you on a weekly basis. People who, when you say ‘I’m fine,’ respond ‘B.S. What’s really going on?’ You need to be a jerk some of the time, and so do they ;)

5. Prioritize that which makes you stronger.
Think about a time in your life where you felt the most grounded, confident, and abundant. Chances are you were regularly doing things that made you feel strong, and as a result, you weren’t willing to put up with the poor behavior of others. In order to reverse doormat mentality, we must habitualize the things that make us stronger. Here are a few of mine:

• Exercising 3–4 times a week. Lifting weights, boxing, taking a long walk. When I’m in great shape, it makes me confident.
• Going to bed early. When I get 7–8 hours of sleep a night, I wake up refreshed, alert, and engaged. I’m in a mindset to make healthy decisions for myself, especially in relation to how I interact with others.
• Reading my mission statement daily. A few years ago, I wrote a mission statement about who I’ve committed to being and what my life would be about. Part of it includes the kind of relationships I seek out and maintain based on qualities that I value — kindness, character, reciprocity, playfulness, honesty, loyalty. I’ve tweaked the statement over the years when new realizations arise about what is important to me. I read the mission statement every morning to remind me of the kind of person I’ve committed to being and who has permission to be in my life. It has become my true north & has proven effective in weeding out the low investment types and the not worthy types — both which trigger the doormat mindset.
• Adding value to someone’s day (and expecting nothing in return). Complimenting the barista’s glasses. Sharing what I’m learning from the book I’m reading with a stranger at the bar. Having genuine interactions with others, unselfishly and spontaneously, fills my tank and makes me feel strong.
• Contributing to mastery. Reading, listening to a podcast, mastering a new skill. Learning energizes me and makes me feel like I’m moving forward in life. Constantly taking in new ideas and mastering new skills is thrilling and fulfilling.

It’s important that we recognize what makes us feel strong and then make a routine of incorporating those things into our lives on a daily basis.

---

It’s been 3 years now since I had my ‘Wow, I’m a Doormat’ revelation. I’m happy to report that no’s come easily now. I don’t change who I am to suit the whims of others. I don’t take offense when people challenge me or walk out of my life. My relationships are better, my productivity is better, and most importantly my self perception is much healthier. I got my dignity back.

    But MaryBeth, how will I know I’m in a better place?

It’s kind of like waking up 4 months after starting to work out and noticing your muscles are now toned. It comes on gradually and you don’t often see it until you’ve made tremendous progress already. The two strongest indicators of no longer being a Doormat are contentment and abundance.

Contentment — You finally feel at home in your own life. Feet up. Laughter. Warmth. Respite. That joyful glow born of comfortability in one’s own skin. Contented people attract others because when you are content, people can relax around you. Which brings me to the next point..
​
Abundance — your life is overflowing with opportunities, joy, friendships. You get up early on a Saturday to take a long walk to the farther coffee shop just because. You’re feeling contrarian today, so you pick a fun and harmless debate with someone. You drive your Jeep on Lake Shore Drive, windows down, with no set destination. Wherever you go, you engage with the people around you because why the heck not? Your cup runneth over.

So, cheers to being a jerk (some of the time). Cheers to no longer being a Doormat. And cheers to that contented and abundant live you deserve. 🥂