Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Low Self Esteem: self fulfilling since 1 BC

A few things I hate about me:

1. That I'm keen on the relationship status of artists that I like and am a little bummed when they are married or in committed relationships. That is absolutely ridiculous. I don't talk to guys I actually see everyday. I can't figure out what kind of f*@^ked up chemistry allows me to actively lament my lost shot at an even modestly famous celebrity. If they could weaponize estrogen...

2. This list seemed like a good idea at the time...

In other news, a co-worker of mine that would be easily hate-able if not so affable was enjoying more professional good fortune and made a comment about how much he loved his job and couldn't imagine how people who hate their job, who struggle to get out of bed and drag themselves in everyday, do it. It was all I could do not to pipe up and tell him how we manage. The man is a study in the adage of success coming when you do something that you love. But it would shortchange him to not highlight his professional acumen and political astuteness. There is also something I catch from time to time that suggests that he can affably tell you to f@%k yourself. Something hard and selfish.

In still other news, I was pleased that BS had kept things fresh between us by not wearing a blue sweater on our third session. I did however, leave the session thinking that either a: BS and I probably won't last past another session or b: BS and I probably won't last another session and therapy may not be necessary or even helpful. I thought this would be challenging and instead I kind of feel like I'm running our sessions. I find myself thinking of bringing an outline or agenda and it has so far ended up just using him as my accountability buddy. I told him during our last session that I was kind of embarrassed that we were using his time and expertise to do that kind of stuff. We spent 20 minutes setting up a goal for tackling my room of shame in 15 minute increments. WTF? In his defense, he sorta brought up the 'why' in the 'what' of the things I do in our last session and I blocked that shot. But I expect him to challenge me, I'm not the doctor, I have no idea what works. He wouldn't be my chore-buddy if I had any idea what works. I left last Friday feeling like a fraud. I don't need help, at least that kind of help. I need to get off my ass and stop making excuses for not living the life I want. And it seems BS can't help with that or help me unlock the motivation to do so.

I think I understand why I do what I do, I think I have stellar insight many of the random events, non-events, and circumstance that have shaped who I am. I think I can nail with pinpoint accuracy what my hang-ups are with men. I'm pretty sure I know why I keep ending up jobs I don't like too. I know that few things are less attractive than low self-esteem. I annoy myself with that but I still reflexively don't like myself. Mostly (I think) because no man I ever wanted, wanted to be with me. I also understand that I have questionable taste in men. I have epiphanies and revelations on a regular basis. I'd be very surprised if BS said something that surprised me. Is that the most arrogant I've ever been in public? Possibly. The point is, no matter the reason(s) why, I still have to do something about it. So I'm a little ambivalent about exploring the nooks and crannies of how the stupid guy in 7th grade who said I was ugly carries forward into today.

Earlier this evening, I was thinking of the move here and remembering how enchanting it all felt, how I filled with hope whenever the skyline came into view. I was confident that I was here for a reason, and that my husband was here. Random people bought me dinner, everyone was super nice, and I was charmed by the city and excited about my work. And now I'm over it. I really don't have much patience or staying power. I hope one day they sell Ritalin OTC. I would be mad focused. It would be awesome. I think it's horrible but I totally get the moms who do meth. It's hard to do it all--it's physically impossible. But if you don't need sleep, you can get so much more done and with a pep that honestly rarely happens naturally in the body. And bonus, it keeps you skinny too!

I digress. The point is, in the Alchemist, at the beginning of each major step in the protagonists' journey, the universe is audibly saying 'yes.' Things fall into place, you are confident you are where you should be. But then the honeymoon is over and you wonder at times if you missed an exit or perhaps misinterpreted the universe. There is a crappy confusing lull as the universe has you treading water until the next current. So basically, I'm either where I'm supposed to be and this just sucks, or like Gob in Arrested Development, "I've made a huge mistake."

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