Habitual Accommodation

learning to suit myself so I can be myself

accommodate n. fit in with the wishes or needs of; adapt to

From the Latin verb ‘fit’ plus ‘to,’ hence, to fit. We accommodate by fitting ourselves to something or someone.

Hello Friends,

If you are the sort of person who habitually considers others’ needs before considering your own, or draws a blank when asked what you want because you truly don’t know, this essay may resonate. If you’re the sort of person frustrated by people who always put others’ needs first and often don’t know what they want for themselves, read on to gain some understanding and/or empathy.

A confession: I had an epiphany this spring that was so huge and reached so deeply into my inner self that I am still digesting it.

It came, as profound insights often do, out of a seemingly innocuous conversation. A friend asked over lunch if I was done with my house, meaning, had I finished the fixes and improvements I planned when I bought it. What I heard was “done” in the sense of over this house, ready to move on. And I realized that I was—ready to move on, that is.

Wait, you say. You bought this house last fall! How could you contemplate moving again?

(For those new to Practicing Terraphilia, you can tour this house before my improvements here and read about the why of my move from what I imagined was my forever home before this one.)

His question stimulated a broader self-inquiry about why I have moved 10 times in the past 13 years, “re-storying” each house I lived in by fixing small and large issues—replacing windows, roofs, furnaces, foundations—making each place shine. And then selling it and moving on. Why can’t I stick? I wondered.

The Epiphany

Then came the epiphany, a flash of insight like lightning in the darkness, at first blinding as much as illuminating: Despite what I thought was my careful decision-making process, I didn’t buy, build, design, or fix up any of those houses for me alone. Even though I live alone by choice.

Instead, I unconsciously fit my house choices around someone else’s perceived needs. Not a single one of those homes was selected just for me.

There’s nothing wrong with that, if you are aware of the choices you are making. I wasn’t. I invested sincerely thinking “this is my place, this is the forever-home I have been looking for.” Yet none of those homes fit me. And for each one, I can name the family member I was unconsciously accommodating.

I realize now that this habit is part of a life-long pattern: I have been unconsciously fitting myself to the needs of the people I love for most of my 68 years. It’s a classic female role: the fixer, the peacemaker, the bridge.…

My posture can tell you that I have been carrying the weight of those loved ones in my body, piled on one shoulder, making my spine slightly crooked. Again, a female habit: we are the world’s caregivers.

OMG! I Am That Accommodating Woman

I am profoundly chagrined by this realization. I think of myself as strong and stubbornly independent, and I am. Except, apparently, for this deeply-rooted and not conscious need to accommodate others, which I suspect comes from a childhood desire to belong in a family where I stood out as the tiny, blond, freckled one who wasn’t as quick or smart or talented or tall as all the others. What I could do, I apparently decided, was take care of everyone.

That slot gave me a place, a role that I have carried through life. Fine if that’s what makes you happy and fulfilled, but it doesn’t work for me now.

Yup, that’s me with the scabbed knees and butch-cut bangs on the front left, looking like no one else in my family. (Thanks to Jenny Barry and Laura Hulka, who both sent me improved versions of this old photo!)

So over these past few weeks, I have been rethinking what I do want in light of this epiphany. A question that seems especially urgent at my age, as I approach the “final furlong” of the race of my life. I am an old woman, named after my mother…. (Thanks, John Prine.)

I am reimagining who I am, and where I want to spend these precious last few decades. Where is home when I’m choosing just for me? What does it look like? What are my wants, needs, non-negotiable must-haves?

I want to sit with this view until my own life sets….

My Dream

It turns out I already know the broad outlines, they just seemed too impractical to pursue before that epiphany: A snug house with a long view on the edge of a small town. A place that feels private, but also connected to the community. A refuge in these chaotic times, where I can grow a garden, buy local food, hang out with artists and writers and other interesting folks. I even know the place, a town I tried out before (but the house I bought there was wrong for me) about an hour from where I now live.

I found a house there a couple of weeks ago that was in the perfect location for me: long view, near public land with great trails, walking distance to downtown.

I made an offer and then things turned bizarre: the seller rejected the offer, fired her agent, and took the house off the market. A few days later, the house popped up for sale again, represented by another agent, and then, as I was preparing to make a new offer, the seller changed her mind again and decided not to sell. In the meantime, I put my house here on the market and four days later, it was under contract, closing in mid-June.

The upshot: I’m moving in a month or so. I just don’t know where I’m going yet. But I’m holding out for that dream, impractical or no.

I’ve put down the weight I didn’t know I was carrying and I’m standing straight again. I’m proud of myself.

Stay tuned. The road ahead may not be clear, but it’s bound to be interesting!

What’s the dream you haven’t been pursuing? Why not? Hit the comment button below and share if you wish.