Push Me

Earlier today, I called someone a pushover and not in the way to tease… sort of… but just as a remark on this person’s character trait. I then started to think of myself and my own history of being a “pushover” and while, to an extent, I still am, I’ve come along way since then.

I used to have a lot of trouble saying “no.” I would feel guilty. I would feel that my personal time and space wasn’t as important as doing a good deed. It could have been due to my wanting to be a people pleaser. No matter the reason, I just had a lot of difficulty to tell someone, “I don’t have the time.” “I don’t think this is a good idea for me to do this.” “I don’t like this restaurant.” “I can wait for you.”

I didn’t hold myself in high regard. I didn’t place value on myself and instead, placed more value on what I could do for other people than what I could do for me. While I am still flexible and can still offer myself to others now, I have been better at setting my own limits, being able to voice when things bother me or have caused me discomfort. While it may take a while for me to get there, eventually, I do.

So people can push me, but be warned that I can now push back.


I’ve noticed, or been more aware, that as of late, I’ve really had a lack of a filter when it comes to the types of conversations I have. In most occasions, only people who are near and dear to me hear the strange thoughts that go through my head, but in most cases, I’ve been able to “hide” my cray cray when I’m meeting new people. What really interests me is whether or not I’ve always been vocal about the things that come into my head. I know that I’ve always had strange thoughts, but did it ever slip out into conversations? Was I always slightly socially awkward? Do I use humor to mask my own social insecurities?

It’s also interesting to me that I used to want to go out, meet people, attend social events by myself, but now I feel so nervous and afraid, that in order for me to feel okay in such a setting is to have people I know and/or have a +1 go with me. A few years ago, I took the Myers-Briggs test and while I can’t fully remember the rest of the letters, I remembered scoring the “I” for introvert. I also remembered learning that it didn’t mean that I was always and forever an introvert, but that it was my preference and if I chose to, I could always go into the “extrovert” side of me. Lately, I’ve been really feeling introverted – that it’s difficult for me sometimes to be in large social settings, especially alone. I can shine when I feel comfortable, at ease with where and who I’m with, but outside of that box, I will be that wallflower, standing in the corner with a Shirley Temple, pretending it was dirty.

Maybe I’m afraid. Maybe I’m afraid that my quirks are abnormally quirky and sometimes inappropriate, so I’m afraid that people will leave and find me too strange to deal with. Or maybe I realize that while it’s great to meet new people, my memory dwindles and realistically, it’s hard for me to reach out and continue fostering new relationships unless I feel welcomed to do so.

Or perhaps this means nothing at all and everything that I feel is normal, realistic, and understandable as people grow older and try to figure out who they are. I am that person – maybe it may change in a few years, maybe it won’t. Let’s see where the road leads and who else will be joining my journey.


Earlier, as I was driving, I thought to myself: Maybe I should ask if A and B are finally dating. But I also asked myself – why would I bother to ask that question? Would A give me the answer? What is the end game?

Then I realized that asking that question wasn’t going to further my relationship with A and the gains in asking said question were trivial. I started to think more about the relationships that I do keep in my life. While they might not be many, but the ones that I would consider close are meaningful to me.

I’m really terrible with small talk. I can forget things and often times, forget people I’ve only met once or twice. (I’ve even forgotten people who were my Facebook friend!) It’s not to say that I don’t value them as people, but in addition to my poor memory skills, I also wonder if the people I meet are worth furthering a relationship. Will I be a benefit to this person? Will this person be a benefit to me? I don’t mean to say that I judge and place value on each person, but I would much rather have a smaller number of people in my life that I can keep in touch with than trying to juggle a hundred different people. It’s partially for me, but also for the people on the receiving end of this relationship – I want to make our relationship valuable and in order to do so, I need more quality than quantity in my life.

I might not be the best person to keep in touch with and even more so now with my ever-busy schedule, but I hope that to those who are reading, that you all understand that you all have value in my circles.

(This might also explain why I’m holding off on getting another cat – no time to devote!)


I am currently feeling a profound sense of sadness. I don’t know exactly why – it might be a culmination of everything within the week.

School – I hate research. I hate it with a passion. Well, more importantly, I hate writing the paper that goes with the research.

Work – Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do – I just want more time without compromising my time! Or… somehow be more efficient with the time I do have. Somehow. Paperwork! Eek!

Partner – I hate that he’s been gone for the week. I barely get to talk to him, converse, chat. I’d feel guilty otherwise since he’s off having fun. I noticed this last time too when he went away to China. I felt like something was not right in my day and that was a lot less communication.

Life – It’s so busy. Granted, I made it this way, but I wish I had a patio where I could just sit, watch people, and drink wine. Maybe pet my cats once in a while.

Daddy – While I was folding laundry, I came across a letter written over a decade ago. I won’t go into its details, but essentially, my dad had expected to retire at 55 (he’s 60+) and he was unhappy with mother at that time. I’ve been thinking about him for the last couple of days – is he happy? Is my daddy happy? Is the man who provided so much for his family finally able to feel a sense of joy? Peace? Free of worry? Is he working out of necessity? Is he happy with work? Would he be happier in retirement? How can I help him get there when I am not financially independent yet? In a nutshell, how can I finally support him when he’s done so much for me?

The strangest thing is that what set it off was that I broke a french press that I had just bought off craigslist. I was really excited to finally try and taste the awesomeness that is coffee in a french press, but I broke it and will have to wait until I go to IKEA to buy one. These are all little things, but maybe when put together in the same space, they mean something.