I write an awful lot about medical issues. I really don’t think there is a medical condition or procedure that I don’t know about. My friends like to tell me that I should just test out on the medical degree because I’m always diagnosing them. And a few days ago, as I was sitting in a creative meeting, the agency head was starting to explain robotic surgery to me and I was already bobbing my head like dog because I probably wrote the script he was using to tell us about it.
That doesn’t mean that I like the whole medical arena thing. I famously fainted in a veteran’s hospital when I was a kid because it had a certain smell. I still get faint at the sight of hospital green walls or any blood.
My ex used to love to watch medical shows where they would show operations. I don’t know why. I still like to think that I am all dry inside like the Invisible Man model I built as a kid rather than being all liquidious and squishy.
I do know that she didn’t find childbirth so fun, especially when she was in desperate need of an episiotomy and instead, got a little bit of tearing.
Me, I think I could use an epleasiotomy. For as long as I can remember, I have been a pleaser. I don’t know if it’s because I was fourth and last born or I simply thought it was the pathway to being liked by others. I suppose it could also be because I grew up alone, playing by – not with – myself and desperately wanted to have friends.
That’s why I need the epleasiotomy. I need to have my people pleasing part removed. Chop it right out, tie off the loose ends, stop me from being a bleeding heart, people pleasing person who has done the most amazing and often stupid things purely because he wanted others to like him.
This would be bad enough if I was just people pleasing my life away on my own. But most of the people I have seemed to have relationships with, romantically or friendly, have used this to their advantage.
Oh yes, the old “sure, that sounds good honey, but I would like it better if…” routine. You can fill in the blank with anything from learning to love a certain culinary delight, wearing clothes that weren’t and could never be me, eating at a restaurant I could never afford, and associating with people I couldn’t stand. All because I needed an epleasiotomy and didn’t realize it.
Even when I did, I was loathe to do it because the person I was with thought it wasn’t a necessary operation. They would say, “but I like you better this way, and if you really cared about me, you would…” Again, fill in the blank.
Without an epleasiotomy I could be twisted in the wind in any direction others wanted me to go. I was so desperate to be liked when I was younger.
Then, a funny thing happened a couple years ago. I finally realized that I don’t give a sh** about what others think of me. Somewhere along the way in that last debacle I called a “marriage,” I got my epleasiotomy. And I got it in a very public place.
For those that haven’t read my memoirs, my epleasiotomy happened in Key West, the same place I met the Miss. Notice I didn’t say Misses. I think of the whole episode as a Hit or Miss, and it was – you guessed it – a Miss.
Even after we got divorced I desperately wanted us to be friends. I know. What an idiot, huh? So I continued on in People Pleaser mode, figuring that even if she didn’t like me as her husband, she’d really like me as her BMF. I know, an idiot.
I was in desperate need of an epleasiotomy. Back to Key West. We were at the same event together, but not really together. We had the same circle of friends and she was really enjoying being the bell of the ball as she always has. Me, I had found the Janmeister so I wasn’t as beholden to Diablo any longer, at least as beholden as she wanted me to be.
Eventually this came to blows. More like an epic, perfect storm. We ended up screaming at one another because I refused to kowtow to her and worship the very ground she walked on. This did not sit well with her and harsh words became angry words that became venom. I was spewing forth a string of things that I had always held back and she had a bullseye on her chest. I let loose like I have rarely let loose and as I did, I felt so much better.
It seemed that every people pleasing thing I had done in my life was being exorcized from me right then and there – all the pent up demons were being released. And while I felt really sad after the whole thing, I also came to understand that I had had an unexpected epleasiotomy. I finally had some cajones and regrew my spine in the process. Finally, I could say what I wanted and be true to myself, letting the cards fall wherever they had to in a relationship.
Man, why didn’t I marry that nightmare sooner? I could have had an epleasiotomy years ago. If I had only known how freeing it could all be I would have combed the world for her just so that I could finally have the damned procedure and live a life that is soooooo much more enjoyable, all because I’m not in constant people pleaser mode.
If you have the condition, I highly recommend getting an epleasiotomy. If you don’t have someone who is willing to do it for you, I can give you my ex’s number. She seems to be a specialist.
In the Emerald City, pleasing no one but myself (wait, that doesn’t sound right),
– Robb