‘Do more of what makes you happy.’
But what if that’s putting dog food in your husband’s food because he upset you?
‘Start each day with a grateful heart.’
But what if my dog just died or my best friend just stole my husband?
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to live up to the inspirational shit reflected back at me on social media these days.
When I’m in a good mood, the concept of a Tibetan, Utopic existence of unlimited happiness where I drink a cup of fresh lemon with hot water for breakfast, don’t require alcohol at all and eat quinoa three times a day and feel full puts a smile on my face, but when I wake up like I did this morning, (a bear with a sore head because the Princess Spoodle is still in our bed and kept me awake all night licking), those words can be hard to digest.
I do wonder sometimes, if everyone really, really tried to be perfect and happy with their lot ALL the time, if we would all be able to sustain that feeling or if it would eventually get boring or if some of us would just become bitter and twisted anyway?
I quite enjoy having bad thoughts. They don’t harm anyone if I keep them to myself… (although therein often lies the problem).
It begs the question, though, of where those imperfections that make us ‘real’ and not Pinterest people come from?
And what’s with having to be perfect all the time, anyway?
Perfect people, in the sense of those people I judge to be sickeningly, SUPER NICE people, (those people who always remember your birthday and sacrifice everything for others), get on my tits almost as much as those people who harbour grudges on Facebook and rant on and on about how their friends ought to treat them.
Does that make me a bad person? Or just a person who has lived, dealt with knocks and knows that flaws are normal and can in fact maketh the woman, right?
In principle, I think I’m a decent person, but I also recognise that I’m far from perfect in spite of my best intentions. I don’t agree with the old man’s philosophy that a leopard can’t change its spots (although it’s a fabulous excuse for not trying) and I do self-analyse and try to change those aspects of my personality that I’m not proud of.
But my mean streak can be pretty stubborn and I do believe that part of the responsibility for my dark side is rooted in nurture’s knocks. Babies respond to love, people are ‘broken’ or tarnished by tragedy, sadness and abuse. Nurture shapes us and sometimes it’s hard to plane down those sharp edges from the past as we evolve.
Admittedly, I try to change other people too and I admit that that is a fault. I only really try to change the people I really care about, though. Many women want to change their partners (understandably) and many mums want to change their children to push them in the direction of successes they never personally achieved.
I have been guilty of pushing Kurt in his musical direction, not because I want him to be famous or wealthy but because I want him to carve a career doing something he loves, rather than flitting around and dabbling with no real direction like I did. NC now wants to become a high school teacher, (which I admit to thinking was a waste of her talents initially), but having had time to digest the fact that she won’t be the first female rock specialist in NSW, I have come to the conclusion that it’s a wise and practical goal for her and one she will be good at.
We parents continue to learn all the time.
It’s quite a female trait that, to want to ‘change’ people for what we perceive to be the better and it gets me in a lot of trouble at Dysfunctionality Box. But the old man is wrong in his accusation that it’s because I believe that I’m perfect or that ‘my way is the highway’; it’s more about being a control freak – a strength that has developed out of the need to be independent from an early age.
I don’t believe you have to be ‘perfect’ all the time. I am drawn to imperfections – flawed people and those that have experienced life’s knocks are far more interesting.