As far as I know, I’ve never had an enemy, not once in my 35 years. Although I’m sure I can be annoying at times, or perhaps I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, for the most part, people tend to think of me as a likeable person. I’m kind and empathetic, can have a laugh, and generally am able to get along with everyone I meet.

But there is this mum in my son’s year 3 class, let’s call her Janet, who I’ve known since the kids were in nursery together. Despite my efforts, she doesn’t like me. As my son started to become friends with her daughter last year, I wanted to make an effort to speak with her a bit more at school pick up times and class birthday parties. ‘It shouldn’t be hard,’ I thought. ‘I’m friends with people she’s friends with. I know her sister quite well. It’ll be straightforward and easy.’

I tried positioning myself in places where we would be able to have chit chat, standing near the mum group she’s a part of while waiting at the school gates. But rather than acknowledging my presence, she often pretended I wasn’t there. She’d make eye contact with every other person in the circle of mums, but not with me. She responded to questions posed to her by other mums at length, but gave short, succinct, ‘how-dare-you-speak-to-me’ answers to mine. ‘No worries,’ I said to myself. ‘You’ll just have to try harder. You’ll win her over eventually.’

A mum-group in the class started planning a dinner out for some of the mums in the class. I was invited, as was Janet. Although hesitant, nervous I’d have nowhere to escape if it didn’t go well, I agreed to go along for dinner. When I arrived, there was already a group sitting around the table with their drinks. I sat close enough to be heard by Janet, but far enough away that I could talk to other people besides her. She didn’t speak to me once that night. If I participated in the whole-table conversation, Janet looked elsewhere, careful not to give me any attention as I spoke. When another friend said she had to get home early for work the next day, I quickly used her exit as an excuse to leave. I was reeling. If she had a reputation for being this rude, I’d just write her off. But the thing is, people love her. They think she’s hilarious and kind, they plan play dates and coffees out with her, no one has a bad word to say about her.

So what does it say about me that I care as much as I do? When I spoke to Georgina Sturmer, an MBACP registered counsellor, she told me my response was perfectly normal.
‘We are hardwired to be social creatures, the sense that we need affection, attention, and security from the people around us,’ Sturmer told me. ‘There is a natural instinct in all of us to get a sense of whether or not people like and approve of us. Even as babies, we are looking for our caregiver’s sense of approval. This continues to follow us throughout our lives.’

When someone clearly doesn’t like us, or that they treat us differently from other people, Sturmer said it can feel really painful, especially for women. ‘We have this cultural expectation, particularly as women, that it is important to be likeable and loveable,’ she said. ‘If someone doesn’t reciprocate that affection towards us, we internalise it and decide something is wrong with us. It can have a real impact on our sense of self-esteem and worth.’

Helen Snape, author of Drop the Fake Smile: the Recovering People-Pleaser’s Guide to Self-Love, Boundaries and Healthy Relationships, told me people like myself who have a ‘deep-rooted urge to please others’ might have have had an upbringing where love and attention were conditional upon them behaving a certain way and so it can feel like a threat to their survival when someone disapproves of them. ‘I hear from lots of women who get incredibly upset by others’ disapproval,’ she told me. ‘Most of my clients are women.’

One friend, who I’ll call Olivia, spent her early 20s and 30s worrying she was ‘too much’ for people, which made them in turn not like her. Another friend told me her relationship with her sister-in-law is her ‘biggest source of anxiety’. ‘I feel like nothing I ever do will ever make her genuinely like me,’ she said. ‘It’s exhausting.’

So I know, it’s not just me who hates feeling disliked. There have been nights I’ve dreamt about Janet, her hating me. I’ve considered talking to her, but I am genuinely petrified of her, a feeling I have never felt about any other person. The thought of bringing it up makes my stomach turn upside down.

Sturmer said that the feeling of not being liked can impact our mental and physical health, and our behaviours, so it isn’t a feeling that needs to be ignored, but worked through.
She said we first need to notice when we are thinking about it, what our physical reactions are, and do or think the opposite. If your breath gets shallow when the person is around, focus on deep breathing. Speak words of affirmation to yourself when you notice your thoughts swirling about being disliked. ‘I am likeable, have plenty of friends, and don’t need this person in my life,’ Sturmer said, suggesting affirmations to speak over ourselves.

Sturmer adds that it might be worth muting or unfollowing them on social media too. ‘Social media can be such an unhelpful backdrop to these feelings,’ she continued. ‘Because we easily fall down a rabbit role looking at the person online. There’s no positive outcome in doing this.’ She also stresses that it is vital to remember that there is no way everyone in the world is going to like us. ‘That idea isn’t very rational,’ Sturmer says. ‘The kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to try and find ways to worry less about whether or not people like us, and think more about whether we like ourselves, and to nurture the friendships that are rewarding.’

My friend Olivia said as she gets older – she’s now 39 – she doesn’t care as much if people don’t like her. ‘I like myself, I care about my friends, I care about the world around me, I try to do good work,’ she said. ‘If people don’t like me for the same reasons that I like myself, then that’s really their loss.’

Three months ago, when I was going through a difficult stage of PMDD [premenstrual dysphoric disorder] that had left me totally deflated, I decided I simply couldn’t carry on contemplating Janet’s animosity towards me. I didn’t have the energy for it. So I made a decision. I would stop trying to get her to like me. Three months after my boundary setting decision, she still doesn’t like me, and I don’t think she ever will. But it genuinely doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m done trying to be her friend. Because the thing is, I know and like myself, and know plenty of people who do want to be my friend.

I’ve learned there’s no point wasting my precious time and mental energy on someone who, for a reason unbeknownst to me, seems to hate me. Life is just too short.