....just a train of thought....
I'm getting quite sick of periodically feeling like an insect that lives in the little sprouts that grow in elephant crap. I feel like a big phony, always trying to live up to the expectations of people. It turns my talents to burdens, instead of them being blessings. I know that setting your sights way up high makes you hit higher, but I'm getting sick of missing the mark all the time. Aiming low doesn't help either; I end up fussing over what a half-assed effort I gave or shoot myself in the foot. Me being me, the obvious solution that comes to mind is not aiming at all, which goes over fine for a few moments until I realize (and rightly so) how useless I am. A person with no purpose is expendable, and no one weeps his demise.
I had to ask myself: who exactly am I trying to please? My family supports me, and my friends think rather well of me. There's no need for proof, because I already am.
So the right answer has to be: me. For reasons I cannot divine, I seem unable to please myself. This sort of perfectionism is debilitating- I do something, anything at all, work at it for a bit, deem my work as the rough equivalent of a corkplug for an asshat, quit, and then get assailed by a staggering amount of lethargy. I become furious at myself, let fly a few colorful words, and then distract myself with really unproductive things like watch paint dry or hang out with equally lazy people.
Now that I'm observing myself with more sober and rational eyes, I can see one fault that really, truly lies with me...I don't try hard enough. At the slightest sign of resistance, I give up. It's also true with my relationships with people. The slightest bump on the road irritates me to the point of frustration. Eventually, I go ballistic and alienate dear friends (Sad. I've done it so often you'd think that I'd have learned something by now, but I'm quite steadfast in my moronic ways. Much rather like a cretin running repeatedly into a brick wall.) My art goes rather in the same way, I get livid with rage, then abandon whatever I was working on. Afterwards, I can always pick up my guitar, my pen, my mouse and keyboard and hardly feel pains for it. People, however, are lost forever. They may come around again, but things are never the same.
I can always ra-ra myself with a try and try until you die! mantra, and that may set fire to my ass to get me moving a couple of meters, but it's just a temporary fix. So again I question myself, "Why can't I commit to anything?" I have an answer, so unbelievable simple that I am tempted to trash it and look for a more sophisticated, analytical piece of psychobabble that'll make me look like Genius in the flesh. I accept it however; it's follows a sensible pattern. Human shortcomings are always rooted in pride, fear, or ignorance, which breeds fear. My problem is rooted in fear. I'm afraid of rejection. I always hold back so that I'll have an excuse if I get burned. If I shut up no one will hate me. If I just get by, no one will notice me. I won't be praised, but I won't be criticized.
Fear is hardly rational, but it is self-actualizing. Ever notice that when you believe in something strongly enough, it actually happens? Like, if I keep telling myself that I'm a loser, guess what, I become one. Anyway, now I know my problem, I can look for a solution.
At this point, God enters the picture.
I don't know what people usually conceptualize when they think about God. Some would see him as distant, others as cruel, and still others would say God is indifferent to humans. I used to subscribe to the "indifferent" school of thought, the agnostic's weapon of choice. I couldn't have been more wrong however, as my experiences have shown God to be the most selfless being in the universe. I can't count the number of times I've spit in his eye, kicked him in the shins and pissed in his yard. Just once would have been enough to sentence me to eternal damnation, but no thunderbolts have been hurled at me yet. Instead I always, always find an open hand reaching out for me. It's overwhelming to the point of tears, to know there is someone who will love and accept me regardless of what I've done or what I will do. It could be the reason we exist in the first place- to know how painfully beautiful it feels to be loved like that.
So there's no reason I should be afraid of being rejected. End of problem.
I had to ask myself: who exactly am I trying to please? My family supports me, and my friends think rather well of me. There's no need for proof, because I already am.
So the right answer has to be: me. For reasons I cannot divine, I seem unable to please myself. This sort of perfectionism is debilitating- I do something, anything at all, work at it for a bit, deem my work as the rough equivalent of a corkplug for an asshat, quit, and then get assailed by a staggering amount of lethargy. I become furious at myself, let fly a few colorful words, and then distract myself with really unproductive things like watch paint dry or hang out with equally lazy people.
Now that I'm observing myself with more sober and rational eyes, I can see one fault that really, truly lies with me...I don't try hard enough. At the slightest sign of resistance, I give up. It's also true with my relationships with people. The slightest bump on the road irritates me to the point of frustration. Eventually, I go ballistic and alienate dear friends (Sad. I've done it so often you'd think that I'd have learned something by now, but I'm quite steadfast in my moronic ways. Much rather like a cretin running repeatedly into a brick wall.) My art goes rather in the same way, I get livid with rage, then abandon whatever I was working on. Afterwards, I can always pick up my guitar, my pen, my mouse and keyboard and hardly feel pains for it. People, however, are lost forever. They may come around again, but things are never the same.
I can always ra-ra myself with a try and try until you die! mantra, and that may set fire to my ass to get me moving a couple of meters, but it's just a temporary fix. So again I question myself, "Why can't I commit to anything?" I have an answer, so unbelievable simple that I am tempted to trash it and look for a more sophisticated, analytical piece of psychobabble that'll make me look like Genius in the flesh. I accept it however; it's follows a sensible pattern. Human shortcomings are always rooted in pride, fear, or ignorance, which breeds fear. My problem is rooted in fear. I'm afraid of rejection. I always hold back so that I'll have an excuse if I get burned. If I shut up no one will hate me. If I just get by, no one will notice me. I won't be praised, but I won't be criticized.
Fear is hardly rational, but it is self-actualizing. Ever notice that when you believe in something strongly enough, it actually happens? Like, if I keep telling myself that I'm a loser, guess what, I become one. Anyway, now I know my problem, I can look for a solution.
At this point, God enters the picture.
I don't know what people usually conceptualize when they think about God. Some would see him as distant, others as cruel, and still others would say God is indifferent to humans. I used to subscribe to the "indifferent" school of thought, the agnostic's weapon of choice. I couldn't have been more wrong however, as my experiences have shown God to be the most selfless being in the universe. I can't count the number of times I've spit in his eye, kicked him in the shins and pissed in his yard. Just once would have been enough to sentence me to eternal damnation, but no thunderbolts have been hurled at me yet. Instead I always, always find an open hand reaching out for me. It's overwhelming to the point of tears, to know there is someone who will love and accept me regardless of what I've done or what I will do. It could be the reason we exist in the first place- to know how painfully beautiful it feels to be loved like that.
So there's no reason I should be afraid of being rejected. End of problem.