*” Tell me what you want, what you really really want “*

My Id and my Ego have been asking this question for months.  It’s a banter in my brain that exhausts me.   The narcissist in me has very clear requirements for happiness and contentment, while my magnanimous side is rather pleased with all this patient benevolence and unending kindness and support to others.  I suspect that if we all came with some sort of  ‘owner’s guide’  that we could present to people when we meet them, like a Chilton manual for human beings,  life would be much easier.

I have been accused, many times over many years, of being discontent…or is it ‘malcontent?’ whatever word is the correct word, well, surely you understand where this is going… I can no longer argue or pacify myself that this is an inaccurate or unfair description of me, since it has been a repeated refrain during the adult years of my life and frankly I don’t know what to do about it, or how to ‘FIX’ it…I keep making the effort, I am many things, but lazy is not one of them, and my frequent & diligent attempts notwithstanding, I continue to lack success in this area of my life.

I have a nice house that is so fabulous to me that I often get giddy when I enter my driveway.  I have a nice job that is so fulfilling to me that I often can’t believe my luck that I am not stuck in a cubicle in some miserable Muzak filled office and actually love the jobs I do.   I have a nice boyfriend who is so handsome and fun to be around that I often get a silly grin and goosebumps when I look at him.  My world is filled with niceness, so much so that I just can’t understand my angst, or why I’ve got any in the first place??!!  It is clearly self-induced  and sabotages many of my otherwise nice days.

I am very much a believer in a -D.I.Y.- approach to living.  I try to do anything without help, and only ask for help as something of a last resort.  I am sure I could go to a doctor and share & explain that I am feeling anxious about all sorts of things and I could probably get an affordable prescription for Lexipro, Xanax, or Paxil, but then what??  Then I am forced to use chemicals to tweak my brain when I am sure if I just try harder, I can tweak it myself. I read magazines where famous people often explain how their therapist is their lifeline, but it just seems silly to me…I HAVE to find peace with my thoughts, or change the thoughts I’m thinking.  I’m tired of myself, lord only can imagine that everybody else in my life must be tired of me too.

I am often envious and angry, well maybe not angry but upset,  over things that have positively nothing at all to do with me and do not have any sort of direct bearing on my world.  This is perhaps a sort of madness or insanity.  I get frustrated over things that I have positively no control over, which is pointless.  We all have problems and this is one of mine.  I ruin perfectly good days because I think things, and then get myself all in a tizzy and have sleepless nights over these thoughts.  I know what I think I want.  I know what I think I deserve.  I know that makes me sound like an asshole.

I’m not broken, just bent, as the song says…the straight side of me wants to be square and plumb though too.  I try to look at every situation I get myself into, or find myself in, as a tool for learning.  I try to view all my “regrets” as a lesson.  I try to say what I want to say and write what I want to write and not have any hidden meanings.  I try to express myself honestly and clearly, always.  I have learned too many times that once words are spoken, they can’t be taken back.

My parents have been gloriously in love for all my life.  They are what many would say is a “perfect match.”  I can count on one hand the number of times in my childhood they had ‘fights.’  I asked my Mom once, when I was a heartsick teenager why they got along so well, why did he love her so much…she told me that early in their marriage, because she did not know any better and was young and did not have much of a guide for married life, she would deliberately pick fights, or say things with the purpose of getting a rise out of my Dad, only to learn later that it was silly and immature, that a real love, a real relationship, has no games…no fight picking, it has only respect and love and friendship at its core…my Dad never took the bait…he would let her have her 20-something freak out and then get on with the business of being a happy loving couple…I know then, from watching them be in love all these years, that when I deliberately say things, or do things, or write things, to this man I say “I love you” to, that have no purpose whatsoever, other than to “pick” a fight, I’m just being a silly stupid girl, and not a strong confident woman.  I had good guides for being in a relationship, my parents.  I know better.  I wannabe be better at being part of a couple.

I wannabe laughter for somebody’s tears.  I wannabe comfort for somebody’s troubles.  I wannabe the one to make somebody’s world brighter.  I wannabe content with what I have. I wannabe hopeful for the future but I wannabe satisfied with what is here and now.  I wanna be grateful with all that is, not angry over the few things that aren’t.  I wannabe missed when I am gone.  I wannabe joyfully anticipated, not solemnly dreaded.  I wannabe thought extraordinary not dismissed as mediocre or like all the others.  I wannabe a good friend and I wannabe a better partner.  I wannabe a rose in somebody’s garden of thorns.  I wannabe more confident and less insecure.  I wannabe a rainbow to somebody’s cloudy day. I wannabe thankful that we exist, together, right now, and it is enough.  I wannabe better at being.

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