You’re Just Not Likeable: The Difference Between Being Authentic and Being Insufferable

Dr. Carmela Maxell: Welcome back to Rooted in Rising. I'm Dr. Carmela Maxell. And today we need to have an uncomfortable conversation. Because apparently I woke up and chose violence. Here's the sentence. Sometimes you're just not likable. I know. Stay with me. Don't turn this off. Don't send me an angry email. And please don't immediately send this episode to the person you're currently thinking about. Because if somebody popped into your head within three seconds of hearing that title, that's between you and God. But seriously, I'm not saying that some people are fundamentally unlikable human beings. I'm not interested in labeling people as good or bad based on personality. I'm talking about behavior. More specifically, I'm talking about this cultural moment where we've somehow confused being unapologetically yourself with having absolutely no awareness of how being yourself affects everyone around you. Those are not the same thing. Confidence is good. Boundaries are good. Knowing who you are is good. Taking up space is good. Refusing to shrink yourself so that other people can remain comfortable? Sometimes that's necessary. But somewhere along the way, some people heard all of that and apparently thought, fantastic. I never have to read a room again. No, no, no, no. That's not what we meant. Because there is a difference between confidence and self-importance. There is a difference between vulnerability and emotional dumping. There is a difference between boundaries and inflexibility. There is a difference between authenticity and treating every thought that enters your head like it deserves an audience. And there is a huge difference between refusing to make yourself small and making yourself so enormous that nobody else has room to exist around you. So today we're going there. Not because I think you should become more palatable. Not because I think everybody needs to like you. And definitely not because I think the goal of life is universal approval. The goal is self-awareness. Because sometimes the question isn't, why don't these people understand me? Sometimes the question needs to be, what is it actually like to experience me? And whew. That's a very different question. Part one. I don't care what anybody thinks. Let's start with one of my favorite lies. I don't care what anybody thinks about me. Okay. Sure. Most human beings care. Maybe not about everybody. Maybe not equally. But belonging matters to us. Connection matters. Being understood matters. Being accepted by people we value matters. That's part of being relational creatures. And there's nothing inherently weak about that. The problem comes when our desire for connection becomes so powerful that we start abandoning ourselves to maintain it. That's where people pleasing comes in. That's where chronic approval seeking comes in. That's where we start saying yes when we really mean no. Laughing when something hurt. Remaining silent when something mattered. Making ourselves smaller because we're afraid somebody won't like the full-size version. So we've rightfully pushed back against that. We've told people, set boundaries, speak up, stop apologizing for existing. Take up space. You don't need everybody to like you. And yes, I agree with all of that. But like almost every useful idea human beings discover, we have found a way to drag it to an extreme. Because I don't need everybody to like me, somehow became, therefore, I never need to examine why people consistently don't like being around me. Those are wildly different statements. Sometimes people won't like you because you have boundaries. Sometimes people won't like you because you said no. Sometimes people won't like you because you stopped being useful to them. Sometimes somebody simply isn't your person. Your personalities clash. Your values are different. Your communication styles don't work together. Fine. That's life. But sometimes people don't like being around you because. Being around you is exhausting. And those are two very different conversations. ⁓ Part two. Intention is an experience. Here's one of the hardest lessons in relationships. Your intentions and somebody else's experience of you can both exist at the same time. You can mean well and hurt somebody. You can think you're being funny and embarrass somebody. You can think you're being confident. And come across as dismissive. You can believe you're being honest and actually just be cruel. You can think you're helping and completely steamroll somebody. And when they tell you what their experience was, you have a choice. You can become curious, or you can immediately defend your intention. That's not what I meant. Okay, maybe it wasn't. But notice what happens when we use intention as a complete defense. The other person says, That hurt me. And we respond, Well, I didn't mean to hurt you. Conversation over. Except they're still hurt. Intent matters. Of course it matters. There's an enormous difference between accidentally stepping on someone's foot and deliberately stomping on it. But if you're still standing on their foot, at some point, maybe move your damn shoe. You don't have to agree with every interpretation somebody has of your behavior. You don't have to accept every accusation. People can misunderstand you. People can project onto you. People can absolutely assign motives to you that aren't yours. But relational maturity means being able to tolerate the possibility that someone's experience of you contains information. Not necessarily a verdict. Information. That's an important distinction. Feedback is data. Mitäkä? Part three. What does it feel like to be around you? So let's ask the uncomfortable question. Not, am I a good person? Not do I have good intentions? Not have I been through a lot? Not am I successful? Not Am I intelligent? Those things may all be true. I'm asking something completely different. What is the experience of being around you? Think about that. When you're having a conversation with somebody, do they get to speak? When you ask a question, do you actually listen to the answer? Or are you just waiting for the tiny opening where you can start talking again? Can somebody tell you about an accomplishment without you immediately telling them about yours? Can somebody tell you they're struggling without you entering them into the trauma Olympics? ⁓ you didn't sleep last night? Well, I haven't slept since 2007. Okay. Congratulations. Can somebody disagree with you without you interpreting disagreement as disrespect? Can somebody correct you? Can you apologize without giving a seventeen minute closing argument explaining why technically you weren't wrong? Can somebody say, hey, when you did this, it bothered me? Without you immediately pulling out seventeen exhibits, three witnesses, and surveillance footage? And here's a particularly uncomfortable one. Can somebody else be impressive without it threatening you? Can they tell you good news and you simply let their good news exist? Can you say? That's incredible. I'm proud of you. Period. No sequel. No. That reminds me of when I no. Well, when I accomplished no, you know what's funny? I actually let their accomplishment sit in the room for five damn seconds. Please. I'm begging. Because all of those little behaviors create an experience of you. And people remember how relationships feel. ⁓ Part four. Authenticity doesn't mean unfiltered. We need to talk about authenticity because I love authenticity. I don't want relationships where everybody is performing. I don't want conversations where everybody is calculating every sentence. I don't want people living their entire lives worried about appearing acceptable. But authenticity doesn't mean absence of regulation. Sometimes people say I'm just being brutally honest. And somehow the people who describe themselves as brutally honest seem significantly more interested in the brutality than the honesty. You ever notice that? Because honesty without consideration isn't automatically virtuous. Sometimes it's just impulsivity wearing a moral costume. You can tell the truth kindly. You can disagree respectfully. You can have boundaries without humiliating somebody. You can express anger without becoming abusive. You can be authentic and still understand not every thought needs to leave your mouth. That's not being fake. That's executive functioning. We filter ourselves constantly. You probably don't tell your boss every thought you've ever had about your boss. Hopefully. You don't tell a grieving person, well, everybody dies. Even though technically true. Why? Because context matters. Timing matters. Relationships matter. Impact matters. That's not dishonesty. That's social intelligence. Authenticity does not require you to become emotionally incontinent. You are allowed to have an internal world. ⁓ Part five Vulnerability versus Emotional Dumping This one matters. I am a huge believer in vulnerability. Talk about the hard things. Tell people when you're struggling. Ask for help. Let people know you. Stop pretending everything is fine when everything is absolutely not fine. But vulnerability requires something emotional dumping often doesn't. Consideration for the other person. Vulnerability says, Do you have the capacity for me to talk about something difficult right now? Emotional dumping says, Congratulations, you're my therapist now. Vulnerability allows another person into your experience. Emotional dumping holds them hostage inside it. And people don't always realize they're doing this. Sometimes we've become so accustomed to processing externally that every available human becomes a processing station. Every dinner becomes therapy. Every phone call becomes crisis management. Every group chat becomes a journal. Every hey, how are you becomes I'm glad you asked. It all started in nineteen ninety seven. And eventually people start pulling away. Not necessarily because they don't care. Sometimes they care deeply. They're just exhausted. Here's the complicated part. If you've spent a lot of your life not being heard, finally finding someone who listens can feel incredibly powerful. And you may have years of things you want to say. That makes sense. But another person's empathy is not an unlimited resource. Healthy relationships require reciprocity. Sometimes I hold you. Sometimes you hold me. Sometimes neither of us needs holding and we talk about what we're making for dinner. Not every conversation has to excavate a childhood wound. Sometimes we can just discuss the weather, and that's okay. Part six, confidence that needs an audience. Let's talk about confidence. I love confident people. But confident people who are also humble, ⁓ those people are magnetic. Because humility doesn't mean thinking less of yourself, it means knowing that being good at something. doesn't make you good at everything. It means being able to say, I don't know. I was wrong. You know more about this than I do. Tell me more. I hadn't thought about it that way. Those sentences don't make you look weak. They actually make you easier to trust. Because somebody who has to be right about everything eventually becomes impossible to have a real conversation with. People stop talking with you. They start managing you. They decide which subjects aren't worth mentioning. They edit themselves. They anticipate your reactions. They stop correcting you because correcting you requires an hour long debate. They stop sharing opinions because every disagreement becomes a trial. And eventually they stop engaging altogether. And then the person says everybody is intimidated by me. Maybe, but maybe everybody is tired. Those possibilities are worth distinguishing. Truly secure confidence can survive someone else shining. Secure people can share the spotlight. They can celebrate somebody without mentioning themselves. They can ask questions. They can be curious. They can be corrected. They can laugh at themselves. They can walk into a room. Without needing to establish immediately that they're the smartest person in it. And maybe most importantly, they can occasionally shut the hell up. I say that with love. But seriously, sometimes the most socially intelligent thing you can realize is this moment doesn't need me. ⁓ Part seven. When you keep having the same problem, now we're getting to the part nobody likes. Patterns. Because one difficult relationship doesn't tell us much. Two people can simply be incompatible. Somebody can dislike you for reasons that genuinely have nothing to do with you. Some relationships fail despite both people trying. But if you keep walking into completely different rooms with completely different people at completely different stages of your life, and somehow leaving behind the exact same conflict, at some point you have to consider the common denominator. And I hate to break it to you. You might be the common denominator. That doesn't mean you're a bad person. I want to emphasize that. Recognizing a pattern doesn't require self hatred. It requires curiosity. Maybe every friendship ends because you eventually feel betrayed. Maybe every workplace becomes toxic. Maybe every romantic partner becomes selfish. Maybe everybody eventually gets jealous. Maybe people always misunderstand you. Maybe every supervisor is threatened by you. Maybe every disagreement ends with somebody supposedly disrespecting you. Could all of these be wrong? Sure. But if the characters keep changing and the plot remains identical, you might want to read the script. Because self awareness asks, what am I bringing into these rooms with me? Maybe you become defensive when you feel criticized. Maybe you interpret boundaries as rejection. Maybe you compete when you feel insecure. Maybe you withdraw instead of communicating. Maybe you become controlling when you're afraid. Maybe you overshare because silence feels unsafe. Maybe you dominate conversations because being overlooked is terrifying. Maybe you need to be right because being wrong once meant being humiliated. Now we're getting somewhere because behavior doesn't emerge from nowhere. Part eight Why self awareness can hurt? This is why I don't want this episode to become here's how to stop being annoying. Because underneath some annoying behaviors, there's actually pain. Not always. Sometimes you're just talking too damn much. But sometimes the behavior is doing something for you. Defensiveness may be protecting you from shame. Constant achievement may be protecting you from feeling inadequate. Dominating conversations may be protecting you from feeling invisible. People pleasing may be protecting you from abandonment. Oversharing may be an attempt to create intimacy quickly. Always being the expert may protect you from the vulnerability of not knowing. Constantly telling people how independent you are may protect you from admitting that you desperately want connection. Our patterns often make sense once we understand what they were designed to accomplish. But, and this is important, understanding a behavior doesn't mean excusing its impact. Your history can explain why you learned something. It doesn't mean everyone else has to live with the consequences forever. That's where growth comes in. You can say, I understand why I do this, and I don't want to keep doing this. Both can be true. Part nine, social awareness is not people pleasing. I think some people resist this conversation because they hear pay attention to how people experience you and translate that into change yourself so everybody approves of you. No, absolutely not. Social awareness is not people pleasing. People pleasing says I will abandon myself to keep you comfortable. Social awareness says I can remain myself while recognizing that you are also a person. That's the difference. Reading the room isn't fake. If someone is giving you one word answers, repeatedly looking away, trying to change the subject, physically backing toward the door. And you've been speaking continuously for 12 minutes, read the room. That doesn't mean nobody wants to hear me. It means maybe this person needs to go to target. Not everything is a referendum on your worth. And that's another sign of emotional security. You don't have to turn every social cue into a wound. Sometimes a conversation just needs to end. Part ten. So how do we actually change? Okay. So let's say somewhere during this episode you went, ⁓ shit. Good. Welcome. That's where growth starts. Not shame. Awareness. First, become curious about your patterns. When conflict happens, Resist immediately constructing the case for why you're right. Ask what happened? What did I feel? What did I assume? What did I do next? What did the other person experience? What part belongs to me? You don't have to take responsibility for everything. Just take responsibility for what's yours. Second, practice reciprocity. Relationships breathe through give and take. Sometimes you're talking. Sometimes you're listening. Sometimes you're teaching. Sometimes you're learning. Sometimes you're falling apart. Sometimes you're holding space. If you're always occupying the same position, Eventually the relationship becomes a role instead of a relationship. Third, ask better questions. People generally enjoy being around people who make them feel interesting. Ask somebody something and actually care about their answer. Remember things. Follow up. How did that interview go? What happened with your sister? Did you finish that project? Those tiny moments communicate something enormous. I heard you. Fourth, practice receiving feedback without immediately defending yourself. This is hard. Try. I need to think about that. That's it. You don't have to agree immediately. You don't have to confess to crimes you didn't commit. You don't have to resolve everything in that moment. Just create enough space between the feedback and your defense that curiosity has somewhere to enter. Fifth, practice humility. Say you don't know. Admit when you're wrong. Let somebody teach you something. Give credit freely. Compliment somebody without making it comparative. And again, if somebody tells you they accomplished something wonderful, let their accomplishment sit in the room for five damn seconds before you tell them what you did. Please, I am once again begging. And finally, stop confusing being liked with being approved of. Those aren't the same thing. You don't need everyone to approve of your choices. You don't need everyone to understand you. You don't need to become palatable. But being considerate, being curious, being reciprocal, being humble, being capable of recognizing that other people have inner worlds every bit as complicated and important as yours, that's not people pleasing. That's connection. Question I want you to keep. Here's what I want you to take this week. One question. And I genuinely think this is one of the most powerful interpersonal questions we can ask ourselves. What does it feel to be on the other side of me? Again, not am I successful? Am I intelligent? Am I confident? Am I technically right? Am I a good person? What does another human being experience when they're sitting across from me? Do they feel heard? Do they feel interesting? Do they feel safe enough to disagree? Can they tell me no? Can they tell me I hurt them? Can they succeed without worrying that I'll compete with them? Can they struggle without needing to take care of me afterward? Is there room for them? Because you can be brilliant and exhausting. You can be accomplished and arrogant. You can be authentic and inconsiderate. You can be wounded and still wound other people. You can have excellent intentions and terrible social awareness. And recognizing any of that doesn't require shame. It requires humility. Maybe becoming more likable isn't about changing who you are. Maybe it's about becoming secure enough in who you are that you don't have to occupy every inch of the room. Maybe authenticity isn't this is who I am, deal with it. Maybe mature authenticity sounds more like this is who I am and I care about who you are too. That's Connection. So yes, sometimes you're just not likable. Or at least sometimes your behavior isn't. Mine isn't. Yours isn't. Nobody gets this right all the time. We're human beings trying to have relationships with other human beings who have their own histories, sensitivities, needs, fears, boundaries. Egos, insecurities, and terrible communication habits. Of course, we're going to get it wrong sometimes. The goal isn't perfection. The goal is being willing to notice, to repair, to apologize, to listen, to adjust. To ask ourselves whether we're creating the kinds of relationships we say we want and occasionally to shut the hell up and ask somebody else a question. If this episode made you laugh, made you uncomfortable, made you feel slightly attacked, or made you immediately think of somebody you absolutely should not send this episode to, share it with somebody who appreciates conversations like these. Follow Rooted in Rising with Dr. Carmela Maxwell, wherever you're listening. And if you've been enjoying the show, leave a rating or review. It genuinely helps other people find these conversations. New full episodes of Rooted and Rising drop every Tuesday with Sunday Seeds of Thought every Sunday and the occasional midnight reflection when I have some shit to get off my chest. And this week, before you ask why somebody else behaves the way they do, maybe ask yourself, what does it feel like to be on the other side of me? Until next time, remember. Stay rooted in who you are and keep rising into who you're becoming. Take care.