I started this blog with the idea of writing in it daily, of untangling the threads of my life, of becoming less inhibited and more sharing. But I was in a funk for several days – over my job, always over my job – and everything I tried to write sounded like whining. Wah, wah, wah – I have to work for a living – why can’t I do what I want to do – it’s all about ME.
Two questions: Why was I more bothered about work than usual? And why do I think I am so special?
I have no definitive answers to these questions. I doknow that listening to my “Stop Making Yourself Miserable” tape helps. The voice of my therapist says, “It’s YOU and your self talk” that is the problem, and she tells me to stop “musterbating” and that I “can stand it” no matter what “it” is, even insanity or death.
I also know that when I am stuck on a problem at work, asking for help is not going to kill me. And yet, sometimes asking for help is nearly impossible for me to do. Too proud, I guess, to admit I don’t know everything. I’d rather be stupid than look stupid.
I’m not always like this. Parenting through the teenage years quickly taught me that I don’t know much at all (and my kids were quick to reinforce this). And I have learned to say “I don’t know” when I truly don’t know. But it is a struggle not to be proud of what I do know.
And right now I know I’d better get back to work.
