I spend far too much time judging myself. I'm sure I'm not alone in this.
Was I right? Was I wrong? Was I good enough? Should I? Shouldn't I? Why am I so messed up?
Just a few of my queries, and my head is spinning.
What if there's nothing wrong with me? What if there's nothing wrong with any of us? What if we just... are. Learning, growing, and... being.
Part of the Universe. Facets of Diety. God's creation.
Suddenly my biggest question is... Why do I waste my time pondering percieved imperfections? I could be sewing. Creating. Playing with my son. Cuddling on the couch. Laughing. Sipping a glass of wine. Playing solitaire. Reading a book. Or a million other things that bring joy and pleasure to my life. These things are good. These things don't hurt anyone around me -- in many cases, they bring as much happiness to others as to myself.
Not everything is good or right or perfect. But... Bad shit happens. That doesn't make me any less.
I've started to interrupt myself. You may be suprised at the difference it makes.
In response to someone's opinion, I have asked myself more than once "Is that really who I am?" or "Is that really the way I seem to people?"
And I forget.
I forget that perception is colored by experience -- Not only someone's experience of me, but of their entire life. I am certain that I do seem one way or another to that person. It may be because of what I have done or said. But it is also because of the way they have written me as a character in the story of their life.
We all write our own stories. I am the main character in mine. (Sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain, but always me.) Everyone else is a secondary character. Or tertiary... Or... Well, you get the point. But that is only in my story. In my head. I see them as a certain way, but this is only the way that they are to me. In someone else's story, they are the main character. And I am... Whatever they decide that I am.
It is relatively easy for me to accept that everyone else is probably different than the way that I percieve them. That I am only seeing a portion of who they are. I can often remember that when one person speaks of another, it is only their judgement or idea of things, and not the truth of that soul.
I forget that, when someone speaks of me, they are only speaking of what their ideas are. I forget that I am not the main character. They do not see my actions or words through my point of view, nor hear my inner dialogue. They do not know my motives. They only know that the character they have written for me is doing or saying something that does or does not fit with their story.
(I've been reading again. The Voice of Knowledge by Don Miguel Ruiz. Much of this post was inspired by that reading. I always intend to write when something strikes me from this book, but I haven't done so. Until now. I highly recommend the book.)