In a particularly sullen moment of collegic angst, many years ago, I came up with this: In those times when when we are most unsure of ourselves, we come to realize that those are the truest moments, because only then do we know where we are. And we are nowhere. Nowhere.
Or something like that.
Compare that to my latest (woefully infrequent) Tweet: Those moments of discomfort, that’s when we grow. Comfort is boring and unproductive. Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I frequently say that my life would be completely different if I had a 2-second delay button. Some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth is pure genius, don’t get me wrong. That’s part of my charm. (Snort.) But other times, it’s like this weird slow-mo moment in an art film or something, where I can almost literally see the words coming out of my mouth, cartoon style, and I know it’s going to suck once they get out, but there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
Part of the problem is that I’m impatient. And frequently over-caffeinated. I get things quickly and get easily frustrated when people continue to slooooowly explain things to me. Or when people repeat themselves unnecessarily. A lot. That shit drives me crazy. I’m a cut-to-the-chase kind of gal, which is good … and bad. Good because I’m able to move things forward to get to where we’re all trying to go. Bad because I frequently mow over good people in the process.
So the first step is recognizing that you’ve got a problem, right? I mean, without that level of self-awareness, ain’t nothing going to happen. The key, though, is the second step: doing something about it. It’s all fine and good to just say, “Hey, doesn’t this suck about me?” But if you don’t do anything about it, well then you’re just a self-aware asshole. And nobody likes that.
Suffice to say, I stepped on a few toes earlier this week, and had to do a good amount of back pedaling, apologizing, explaining. And I think things are fine now. But I’m tired of having to do all this, just to undo something I shouldn’t have done in the first place. Think of all the time I’d save if I just didn’t do it to begin with…
If there was a 12-step program for people who frequently put their foots in their mouth, I’d be all over that. FSA – Foot Stuffers Anonymous?
I talked to a therapist who described an approach he had for working with dyslexics. Dyslexics, he explained, not only see things in a different order, but they process things differently, and a certain kind of dyslexic can often get to the conclusion faster than others. One of his clients, the therapist explained, had been pinned as the asshole by his professional peers because he was always impatiently gesturing in meetings, yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s get on with this. He recognized this in himself, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. This therapist fellow explained his behavior in terms of a mild case of dyslexia, and began a program to manage it.
Maybe I should look this guy up.
In any case, I had an uncomfortable day yesterday. It felt like crap. But even in the middle of all the crappiness, I recognized that there was something productive there. Because comfort is boring. You don’t change when you’re comfortable, do you?
image from: http://www.whippedcardgame.com/
I remember having a conversation with my dad’s older sister. “Why,” she asked, pointing to the black uniform, torn fishnets and absurd black eyeliner worn by my goth brothers and sisters, “do you think you all came to this?”
eleven bee 