Let Go of What Doesn’t Serve You

Here are two things you may not know about me: I’m a fiercely competitive tennis player and a people pleaser. 

What do those two things have in common? I’ll try to make a long story short.

When I was growing up, I kept a journal. Self-reflection came easy. The physical act of writing down my thoughts helped me formulate what I thought about my role as a daughter, a sister, a twin, and an adoptee. In those early journal entries, I wrote about my need to “go with the flow,” to fit in with my peer group, and to make others feel welcome and comfortable. Even now those themes thread through my blogs, personal essays, and memoir. 

In my family life, I listened to my parents and adhered to their strict rules. Some of my rule following behavior was motivated by my fear of my mother’s temper, but I also felt warmed by my parents’ frequent praise. In school, I worked diligently to get high marks and to excel at cheerleading, volleyball, and tennis. My role as a people pleaser served my wants and needs, and so this behavior became ingrained in my personality. For most of my life, people pleasing has influenced my relationships and lifestyle. 

As an aside, when I undertook the search for my birth parents in 2010, I joined a post-adoption support group comprised of members from the adoption circle. In group therapy, I learned that most of my fellow adoptees are people pleasers, too. Whether it’s conscious or subliminal, the knowledge that our first parents chose not to parent us, makes adoptees try extra hard to satisfy our adoptive families. The fear of being given away again is very real to an adopted child. A fear of rejection can overflow into our work and family lives. 

The summer before I entered eighth grade, my friend Kim and I decided we wanted to learn to play tennis. Every afternoon, we rode our bikes over to the neighborhood park with our borrowed racquets and a couple of cans of balls we’d bought with allowance money. Kim and I made those balls last for weeks. 

The practice sessions with Kim gave me enough confidence to try out for the first girl’s tennis team at my high school (thank you Title IX!). I not only made the team but secured a spot at first doubles. In the four years I played high school tennis, I never lost a conference match. After I graduated high school, I took a ten-year hiatus from tennis, and I didn’t return to my favorite hobby until my kids were school aged. 

For the last twenty years, I have played doubles on various travel tennis teams, both in Illinois and Florida. One of my coaches ingrained in me the philosophy that “you should be able to play with anyone,” and “you should be able to figure out how to win.” Those goals were music to my people pleaser personality and fit with my experience of achieving at a high level. Recently, I found that this philosophy–playing with any kind of partner and figuring out how to win with them– doesn’t translate into a meaningful experience. 

This spring, a month after my husband died from bladder cancer, I was asked to join a USTA team in Sarasota. I knew a few of the ladies but none of them are part of the two regular teams on which I regularly compete (I told you I’m a tennis nut). When my new captain came out with a crazy line-up, I sent her an email stating that I had never played with the partner she’d assigned to me. I was told that we were short players that week and this was the best she could do. 

I mulled over the disappointing news while selecting the suggested navy and white uniform pieces from my tennis wardrobe. Factor in my bent towards people pleasing and the ingrained teaching philosophy “you should be able to find a way to win with any partner,” then it’s no surprise that I spent little time dwelling on the less-than-ideal lineup. 

The morning of the match, I hopped in the car with my tennis bag and drove forty minutes outside of Sarasota to the opponents’ home courts. My partner informed me at the outset of the match that she plays more singles than doubles. I grimaced. Court positioning in doubles directly correlates to who wins points and sets. We got creamed. In the two sets played, we took three games. 

I have lost a lot of tennis matches in my life, but this loss didn’t just sting. It left me feeling deflated. Losing bummed me out during the match, after the match, and during the entire forty-minute car ride back home. As I drove along, I puzzled my depressed mood. Self-reflection provided immediate clues. My husband’s death had left me uber stressed. I recognized that some lingering estate issues had set my frustration meter to well above normal. Driving to an away tennis match to play with an unknown partner with a limited skillset had pushed me out of my coping zone. I concluded that what I need going forward was to take on less not more. Even if less meant saying no to something I normally love, like a competitive tennis match.

Right after I parked the car in my garage, I wrote the captain and resigned from the team. The self-reflection I’d completed during the car ride home allowed me to recognize some hard truths. I needed and wanted to set aside the old familiar mindset of people pleasing and begin to advocate strongly for myself. In resigning from the team, I chose to honor myself over pleasing others. 

I can’t predict whether I’ll join another USTA team in the future, but I’m certain that I’ll continue to play tennis and practice pleasing myself first. Letting go of what doesn’t serve us is good for the soul and a recipe for leading a healthier lifestyle.

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