Or mostly unrelated unedited thoughts of late

I had a post that I took down last week(?) on self-loathing. My husband wisely remarked that it might not be something I would want to have follow me around; it was journaling appropriate, not blogging fare. I could see the logic… I wanted to bare my (tormented) soul to those I call my dear readers, knowing that you would either recoil in disgust (saving you future reading time), nod understandingly, or shake your head in confusion. If you were still here when the self-critical dust settled, then I could say you were making an informed decision, my dear reader  =)   But this is not some cyber-sleepover where we are sitting around, sharing our darkest thoughts and secret crushes–what I write online could come back to haunt me more than any whispers in the dark. I respect his view from the outside, and thus it disappeared. 

The next morning I woke up with those three text messages waiting for me (yes, typed out on his little LG qwerty, completely as-is, no thx 4 u, kwim?) and I opted to put those up instead of a revised version of my original words. I envy Richard’s ability to rapidly compose entire paragraphs in his head; entire essays spring forth with very little, if any, editing required. His wisdom arrives like Athena–without the headache.

I listened to Pearl Jam’s “Black” on the radio this week, first time in several years. It brought back memories of a good friend, her older brother who liked me, and his artistic note explaining the sudden end of our relationship. I was his date to a school dance, we went out for coffee a couple of times, it wasn’t anything serious or exclusive. But he wrote that he’d always thought of himself as different from other guys, that he wasn’t going to let himself be this ‘raging ball of hormones’, and since I was changing all of that for him, he needed to call me just his little sister’s friend. He closed with a quote from “Black”

I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life,
I know you’ll be a star
In somebody else’s sky
 but why
         why
             why can’t it be
why can’t it be mine? 

I can’t stop the tears as I sing along with Eddie Vedder, words that frustrated me at the time now a reminder of how incredible my journey’s been thus far. I do have a beautiful life, I have someone who loves me, and I understand why it couldn’t be, why so many others couldn’t be…  (like the one I envision whenever “Better Man” starts playing)

I often ’trip the light existential’ around my birthday, which makes sense, I suppose. Entertainment with themes of self-exploration, growth, rebirth, purposeful identity, these songs, movies, novels, they strike me with greater force these days. I woke up with puffy lids after crying for Christopher Johnson McCandless, or at least Sean & Emile’s portrayal thereof. Would I finally come to my understanding and definition of happiness too late to do anything about it? Would any ‘quest’ I undertake end in relative disaster? I identified with the foolhardy, fearful, lonely, frustrated, and the surprisingly optimistic, grateful, yearning, learning… too much for my poor soul at 1am, I’m afraid.

I’m struggling to express those thoughts in an intelligible way. I’m not winning that battle just yet. Again with the envy of his mind, his pen (or keyboard as the case may be).

Everything happens for a reason, sure. But it doesn’t mean it’s a rational one, or higher power directed. The question of how God draws the line between being intimately involved and hands-off is one for the ages. Whether or not God can even be both is debatable.

Salvation Mountain blows my mind enough, to be honest. “God Loves Everyone” is amazing, eh? Even my nontheist dear readers out there can agree that it’s unbelievable, heh heh heh. More often than I do, I need to remember that I am part of Everyone. It doesn’t take away those pieces and parts of me I loathe, but it can keep me from throwing myself out with the bathwater.

There’s hope for me yet.

transcript of three text messages I received from my husband this morning on the subject

Self-loathing is really just another form of self-pity, in which a person explains their lack of desired successes by attributing them to persistent mistakes that are characterized by introspection and negative self-talk as inherent flaws
 
The sad irony is that a person likely starts down this avenue of thinking intending to be their own harsh critic and shock themselves out of complacency. The effect of the incessant and merciless self-criticism (which rapidly loses all sense of perspective and spins out of control) however, is that it leaves that person feeling wounded and powerless trapped under a mountain of seemingly unsurmountable flaws. Such a feeling of powerlessness is far more crippling and debilitating and difficult to escape than the perceived sense of complacency (which was just as likely actually discouragement to begin with) ever would have been.
 
The key then, I suppose, is to break the cycle of self-centeredness and help someone else with something. Simple acts of service for those we love can help us change our focus away from ourselves while building a sense of self-worth. If your strength doesn’t support doing chores, play with a child and/or teach them something. Prepare a birthday card (or other card or such thing) or talk to a friend about their day. Pay compliments to people and you will soon see yourself in a different light.
 
Another way of looking at your quandary is that if you start a conversation with yourself by asking “What’s wrong with me?” you, being a smart person, are no doubt going to find an answer and perhaps several, but they won’t make you feel any better. If, instead, you ask “What is a simple thing that I can do that might make someone feel better?” you’ll probably find a much more useful answer.
 
You might try singing through all the verses of “Have I done any good in the world today?” and substitute the phrase “than beating yourself to a pulp” for the phrase “than dream of your mansions above”. Also bear in mind that you have already cheered me up and made me feel glad, so you can’t have failed indeed today.  :)

Sure, sure, you tinted the milk for your Lucky Charms this morning, you’re wearing green from head to toe, you can’t wait for that yummy cabbage potato soup tonight, but how much do you *really* know about St. Patrick?  If you’re like me, you know a fair bit and you owe it all to a most fanciful flannelgraph.

Big Idea TV has the VeggieTales St. Patrick’s Day video short to watch on their website–click here to watch the (mostly) educational and (somewhat) historical adventures of young Maewyn Succat.

It should really say something about how much I like the video, to know I crawled out of from under the covers & tissues & empty dayquil boxes to come share this nugget o’ joy with you, my dear reader. Now back to my regularly scheduled orange juice, garlic capsules and lightly buttered toast.