I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!
Oh, dear, sweet Stuart…..with your 90’s soccer-mom frosted hair, scratchy cardigan, and lavender polyester shirt. Who knew one day your fictional words of wisdom would be popping into my head as a mantra? That’s exactly what happened to me this morning when I woke up.
This has been, by far, the shittiest, most depressing winter I can remember. The weather has been wretched. Everyone has been trapped inside for months. There has been no break from it. Because the sun is a giant asshole and doesn’t want to anyone to be happy, it’s been a sad and lonely couple of months. On the rare occasion we do see the sun, it’s only doing 50% of its job. It’s shining, but provides 0.0% warmth. Every day, same routine. Wake up. Go to work. Go home. Put on pajamas. Stuff face. Lay on the couch. Think, think, think. I’d love to turn my brain off, but unfortunately, my brain hates me and loves to self-torture.
All of this thinking and down time has produced some good things, actually. I’ve put together a stand up routine that I’m going to try out in the next few days, and I’ve been writing more. Productivity! It’s been really nice to finally get some things done that I’ve been saying for years I wanted to do. Other times…not so much. I’ve learned a lot about myself, or, knew and never really paid much attention to. Such as: I really hate the cold, I will watch whatever show is on Food Network (even if it has Guy Fieiri), I love cheese a little too much, and I never eat all the bananas I buy.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had some form of neurosis. Nothing too crazy (ok, there were a few really weird ones when I was a kid, but that’s for another time). I totally had OCD tendencies that were manifested from my anxiety. I don’t think child psychology was very hip when I was younger. Maybe it was, but I wasn’t getting it. Instead, my parents just endured my weird habits and hoped that they would go away. Which, thankfully, they did. They were mostly harmless. Except, I’ve carried this one terrible habit throughout my childhood, and I’ve grown tired of it: I’m a real fucking bully to myself. That, as the kids say, is not cool.
Before anyone gets worried, I’m fine. I’m not doing anything harmful to myself, nor do I want to. I’m not the only one who does this; I think everyone has it in some form or another. Who walks around and thinks they’re just perfect all the time? Ok, some people do, but they’re assholes. In my contemplative state, I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough on what I do that makes me so unhappy. Some of the highlights:
- I blame myself for things that happen when I have no reason to be blamed.
- I find fault in myself when I should be looking at what’s good.
- As much as I love a good fight, I actually really hate to fight with people. (That makes no sense, I know. But it kind of does).
- I look at myself and ALWAYS see the flaws.
- I make excuses for people’s poor behavior, and let myself feel terrible while it’s happening.
What makes people happy? It’s different for everyone. I wish I did have someone to share my life with. But, I don’t. Someday? Who knows. It’s not easy being alone sometimes, but it’s something I have to do. Dating has been pretty much a disaster (as you all know). But, surely, there will be someone out there who will appreciate me. It’s just going to take some time. I need to start treating myself better and having higher expectations of myself and others. I need to stop taking half measures. I need to think in terms of “why not?” versus “no way.”
My life is pretty wide open. I am in the perfect position for change. I’ve contemplated moving, changing my career path. I have this gnawing feeling I should be doing something else; I just don’t know what that is yet. But, before I can do anything, I need to follow the sage advice of my dear friend, Stuart Smalley. I need to believe that I’m good enough for someone, I’m smart enough to survive and be independent, and doggone it, people do like me. Including myself.