It's Complimentary

I've said it before...If I learned one thing in therapy, it was my self worth and the direct impact it has on what an amazing friend I am to the people in my life. It's easy for me to say that, and it's easy for me to recognize the difference in my actions now when I am interacting with friends and loved ones. Why, then, is it still so difficult for me to take a compliment? It can be something as simple as someone recognizing how caring I am. You could be calling me sweet, or thanking me for a random card I sent or a random message I left. If a comment like that is made, in my head I am in complete agreement with the person saying it. But for some reason, that is not expressed in the words that come out of my mouth. It's too hard to just say "Thank you" and move on with the conversation. Do I still think it sounds like I have a huge ego if I don't try to argue that the things I do are no more than the ordinary? If I'm being completely honest, yes, there is still a part of me that characterizes that type of acknowledgement as conceited in some way. But maybe it's not conceit at all. What if my competitive nature transfers into my friendships and drives me to do more and more so that I am not just the average friend. Maybe I refuse to allow myself to be recognized for the actions that I believe should go without asking in friendship. Maybe I expect so much of myself as a friend that I won't let myself be recognized for anything that cannot be labeled as stellar. I think it boils down to one basic belief...I believe that every person in this world deserves a friend like me and I find it incredibly disheartening when the people I love are taken aback by the random acts of kindness that come so naturally to me. The problem with my thought process is simple...it puts the people I care about in a position where they feel that they constantly have to convince me that I am worthy of their praise. For someone who likes to make life easier for those around me, that sure adds a lot of unnecessary work for my loved ones. I've been told in the past that my incredible efforts as a friend put pressure on those around me to return that effort, even if it is not feasible or possible for them to do so. I certainly acknowledge that I may inadvertently add pressure to the situation. However, I've always attempted to make it known that I do not expect the same amount of effort in return. I am so blessed to see my friends smile and feel so rewarded in knowing I had a part in putting that smile on their faces. That is all I need in return for my effort. However, that may raise another question. If my basic belief is that everyone deserves a friend like me, why don't I expect to have a friend like me? I think the answer to that is simple, but one might disagree with me. I believe if I had a friend like me, insanity would reign supreme over us trying to top one another in random acts of kindness. I'm being completely serious here. I have friends who are extremely thoughtful and generous, but if I had a friend just like me there would be an all-out war of wills. The other day, Dawn pointed out my competitive nature. In writing this entry, I'm beginning to understand the depths of my competitive self. I mean, seriously, am I really an amazing friend or am I just so competitive that I will not let anyone beat me at this game we call Friendship? Whatever the answer is, I don't think that it lessens my effectiveness as a friend. I can't possibly believe that a competitive nature rules my every waking moment and has control over my ability to be a friend. What if it does? Recognizing that won't change anything. I will continue to be a great friend to the people I care about. It doesn't change my sincerity or the amount of love I truly have for all of these people. I guess, if anything, it pushes me to express that love more often and, in turn, helps others do the same. That just means there's a whole lot of loving going around. I have no qualms about that!
"Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you." Elbert Hubbard