A friend of mine recently posted a meme on her Facebook page that said “Slow progress is better than no progress.” My first thought was, “Great. That would be comforting if I were making slow progress.” The fact is, I have felt as though I haven’t moved forward in years. If anything, I’ve been sliding backward.
It’s not that I haven’t tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. Quit my job, sold my house, went back to school. Graduated with honors. Applied for hundreds and hundreds and HUNDREDS of jobs. Even got one. It lasted two whole days. Fortunately my old job was still waiting for me. Of course, now I have twice as many expenses, so this job isn’t sustaining me like it once did.
When someone tells me I need to get a positive attitude I want to punch him in the throat. If you get an electric shock every time you push a button, it’s SANE to not want to push that button anymore. So imagine what it feels like when someone tells you that you should push that button with enthusiasm. Yay team!
And then there are those who will criticize you for still being picky. Don’t want an emotionally abusive guy who constantly shouts at you in your life anymore? “Why not? He’s a guy. You’d be less lonely”. Or, “Oh, look! There are job openings for prison guards. You could do that.” Yes, because I want to be surrounded by people who want to kill me every day. “But you’d be making more money…”
The problem is, what’s the effing alternative? Doing nothing? Yeah, that’ll get you somewhere. Self-sabotage? I’m quite adept at that. I cover myself with fat to keep people at a distance. I’m sure my constant depression and exhaustion radiates out of me like the cry for help that it often is. I wouldn’t hire me or date me either. What a relief. No surprises this way.
A counselor recently told me that failure is a form of success, because you learn something from it. I looked at her and thought, “Does this woman sniff laughing gas or what? Can she really BE that deluded?” Yes, I bring failures on myself, but the economy, the fact that I’m aging, and the fact that employers and men can afford to be more discerning these days because they have plenty of prospects doesn’t help either. Failure isn’t success. Failure is just one more volt that that surges through the electric button that you’re expected to push.
Another friend says I need to figure out what’s holding me back. I KNOW what’s holding me back. Fear of rejection. I have been electrocuted by that button so many freakin’ times my hair is starting to smoke and I’m developing a nervous tick. If I don’t apply for that job, I don’t have to be reminded that they don’t think I’m good enough. If I eat enough cookies, when a guy isn’t interested I can blame it on the fat, not on me.
Self-sabotage may as well be self-mutilation. It’s the emotional equivalent of cutting my thighs with a razor blade. So now I guess the trick is to figure out how to keep pushing that button with a smile on my face. Because that will feel soooo much better.
But in the mean time, kindly stop telling me to let a smile be my umbrella, would you?
The View from a Drawbridge 
I seriously thought I would self-destruct by age 30. Even wanted to, even came close, very close. But I was a faliure at that also. So here I am, still here, and I still have those thoughts and feelings sometimes. But I keep plugging along putting one foot in front of the other into the light, into the dark into the light. Reminds me of the Old Gold cigarette commercial. the wheel would spin and they would say…”round and round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows.” I don’t know where this all came from, except You are not alone.
Thank you. I think if I were still 30, somewhere in the back of my head I’d be thinking, “There’s still time to turn this around.” But I’m 49, so I’m thinking, “Time’s running out. Looks like I’ll have to work until I drop dead.” That, and broke up with the bf again, and when you’re fat, 49, and working graveyard shift, men aren’t exactly beating a path to your door. Don’t worry. I’ll snap out of it, eventually.
Yep, I was 63, very fat and working graveyard. Things not good with Hubby, no sex. Bu,t stil here. These days things better, losing weight, working out, still no sex, but I can still dream, and I’m in better shape than before. Somedays I feel 50, somedays I feel dead. But at least I’m feeling something, and I do look forward to your outlook on life, everyday. That’s something.
Actually, that’s much more than you’ll ever know, my friend. And thanks for giving me hope.
I have to agree with the idea that just telling people to be happy or showing them happy little memes and words of clever positive thoughts is a complete waste of time in real life.
But be happy… hang in there, baby, put on a happy face, today is the first day of the rest of your life…