One of these days….


I’ll learn how to change the stupid font size on this blog so I can read the published version without squinting and bitching about where the hell I left my glasses.  Yes, one of these days I will actually learn how to use my Droid to fit my lifestyle; to utilize the phone to its full capability instead of just plowing through and getting pissed off that it won’t do what I want it to do when and how I want it done.  One of these days, I’ll read the instructions before trying to put together that new piece of furniture from fucking Ikea.  One of these days, my websites will look the way I want them to.  And one of these days, I’ll stop being so hard on myself.

I’m ridiculously impatient with my own learning curve.  I attribute this to Senior Fuckholio, my inner critic.  He thinks I should just get into new projects, plow away, and somehow things will miraculously go the right way.  Furniture will be assembled with ease.  Hell, it might assemble itself!  I’ll intuitively know which apps and widgets make the most sense for me on my wonderful yet baffling phone.  My life will effortlessly flow.  Things will look and feel perfect enough to please Goodie Bitchface, my inner perfectionist.  This flow is not my norm.  And if  my life doesn’t flow, Senior F tells me its it’s because I’m defective in some way.   I’m lucky if I have a brief moment of flow in a good week.   So, I hear this a lot.

If I can’t figure out how to do something on the first try, Senior Fuckholio steps up to the plate.  His furious, nonstop muttering tells me what it’s my fault.  That I’m an idiot with no common sense; that any normal person would already intuitively know how to do whatever it is I’m attempting.  No attention at all is given to the fact that I never gave myself a chance to LEARN whatever the gallery members of my Shadow expect me to do. 

When I started this blog, I just jumped in with both feet.  Had no idea what I was doing,  just started writing.  I had no clue how to alter the presentation of my ramblings, and I still don’t.  Because I never took the time to listen to the tutorial.  Rather than spend probably an hour or less getting educated, I blindly forged ahead.  Now, this did serve a purpose- I broke through the Renfield barrier of malingering and TOOK SOME ACTION. I started something that shares who I really am with other people, which is difficult for me.  Sometimes it’s necessary to take action to break out of lethargy.  But I forget I can backtrack and do some research to tweak things and make life easier on myself.

Easier on myself is a foreign concept.  Senior Fuckholio believes that all lessons are learned through pain and frustration.  Life sucks and then you die.  There is no easy way.  If I obtain any good thing without struggle and bloodshed, it’s not real and can’t be trusted.    When the good stuff occasionally happens, Senior F gets very uneasy and apprehensive.  He tells me to wait for the other shoe to drop.  Enter self sabotage…..when I wait in anticipation for the good thing to come to an end or be taken away, I create that very dynamic in my reality and prove Senior F right.  I obsess about when the good thing is going to turn to shit in my hands.  Then it invariably does, because that’s where I put my focus. 

Senior Fuckholio insists that I learn everything the hard way.  And he believes that hard work guarantees happiness and well-being and prosperity.  Senior F  believes in working hard, not working smart.  His magic combination to everlasting happiness is to goad me into working harder so my life will turn out okay.  This is seldom my reality.  Oh, I do the working hard part.  I gnash my teeth, get ridiculously frustrated, beat myself about the head with a metaphoric tree branch and never ask anyone for help.  It’s AWESOME.  (This would be sarcasm, in case you missed it.)

For example, I have friends who blog.  Yes, on WordPress.  It would be easy to shoot them an email and ask simply questions about the font size thing.  I have some very tech savvy friends that would be glad to help me set up my phone and/or websites  so that these things are truly time savers that would make my life easier.  I have friends who are carpenters that could put those shelves together in their sleep.  But I would rather chew off my own tongue than ask for help.

Senior F believes and has damn near convinced me that asking for help is a sign of weakness.  If I’m not totally self- sufficient, I’m vulnerable.  If I’m vulnerable, I’m screwed.   I have to do everything myself, even those things I know absolutely nothing about.  Now, other people can ask me for help all day long, and I’m glad to give it.  But Senior F tells me that this dynamic can’t run in both directions.  I can give to other people, but I’m not allowed to accept anything from anyone else because that makes me weak, stupid and worthless.  And I’m not really even allowed to give to myself.

Wait a minute. That there’s crazy talk.

But I must remember that it’s crazy talk that originated in the Land of Good Intentions.  Senior F has always wanted me to be safe.  There was a time in my life where I wasn’t allowed to question authority, much less do any thinking for myself.  The rules were dictated to me in my family of origin, at school, through church.  Someone was always telling me what to do, how to act, and what to feel and say.  I wasn’t allowed to question anything.  Instead, I sat like a baby bird, mouth wide open, accepting whatever crap anyone wanted to feed me in order to control my behavior.  When I was a kid, I had to play that game to get along in society.  When I was an adolescent, I bravely and ineffectively told Semior F to go to hell.  I told myself I just wasn’t going to listen to him anymore.  I tried to will him away.  But inside my head, I still listened, because I was terrified  he was right about me.  I didn’t have the option of being difficult or powerful or weird or questioning or inappropriate.  Well, as an adult, I’m all of those things.  Senior F’s dire warnings of impending doom have no place in my life now, especially since I have little interest in “playing it safe” anymore.  I could give a shit if I fit neatly into mainstream society at this point in my life.  I just want to be happy and comfortable in my own skin.  I have a  burning need to be who I am.  And changing the status quo scares the hell out of Senior Fuckholio.

Senior F is there every time I do something dumb like lock my keys in the car or cut myself on something because I’m not paying attention.  Every time I jokingly or sarcastically say “well THAT was a smart move…”  He’s there, ready and waiting to tell me I’m weak, stupid, lazy, and that there is something WRONG with me.  The part of me that’s always accepted his rantings as gospel is afraid that he’s right.  That there IS something inherently defective about me.   Senior F’s language is negative, his modus operandi covert.  He’s sneaky and insidious.  He weasels his way into every aspect of my life,  and he’s good at it.  I’m so ingrained to accept his word as gospel that I sometimes don’t even realize it’s his voice in my head and not my own.

But making him go away or ignoring him has never worked.  I want to harness his energy for good, not destructiveness.  But I’ve got to stop letting him take the lead in this dance we’re doing.  Senior F has given me some great gifts, but it’s time for him to change his tune.  Because of his influence, I can think critically and see the many possible  consequences to actions before I take them.  I can then weigh those choices and take an informed decision about how to proceed in a way that will most likely result in the outcome I’m looking for.  Senior F is brilliant because I am brilliant.  He kept me safe until I was ready to accept responsibility for who I really am and step out from under his influence.   He drives me to be a better person, although his methodology is extremely outdated at best.  Bashing me with a stick doesn’t work anymore.  Neither does allowing him to bully me. 

I’ve started stepping breaking through the strict parameters of “acceptable behavior,” and it hasn’t killed me yet.  I’m learning to differentiate between Senior F’s voice and my own.  I can tell him now to tone it down.  I’m learning to thank him for his input and then consider it as only one option.  I get to make up my own mind.  We’ll be able to peacefully coexist in my head and work together. 

One of these days.

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~ by dancingwiththeshadow on April 24, 2011.

One Response to “One of these days….”

  1. Wonderful Kay! I love your sense of quirk blended into a well thought out and well felt out process.

    “I must remember that it’s crazy talk that originated in the Land of Good Intentions,” struck me as well. It seems important to capture that part as we seek to change and bend the framework built around us. Not to excuse, but to accept the reality as it is. To come from the foundation of a more conscious awareness of why what is – is. I was told as a child never to accept anything from my Grandmother, for instance. There were two main reasons my parents hammered that into me. 1) She didn’t have much money, 2) They had issues with their parents and didn’t ever want to feel vulnerable and like they owed them anything. The result? As a very obedient daughter, I denied myself and my grandmother many offerings of nurturing and love, not to mention memories. There’s more to my story of course, and far less tame battles and hurdles I face, but understanding a simple example like this helps free me a little more as I consciously “get” that mechanism and how it played out for me. My brother? He was taught the same. But it never seemed to phase him and he never stopped asking or receiving. In the end, he got in trouble sometimes for asking, but he has also received much more time, attention and “stuff” than I, because he simply asked. He broke the rules. I did not. I was the oldest – I “knew better.” But he doesn’t have the issues with receiving that I do today. Did my parents mean for that to happen? I don’t think they were aware of the possible consequences of that particular scenario. Still, it’s been a program running in my computer none the less. And I can look at that today as I raise my own kids.

    Well anyway, glad to see you here Kay!!

    ::hugs::
    Jules

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