I’m really tired of feeling sorry for myself. It’s been happening a lot lately. I feel noble for holding it in, though. I believe I myself coined the philosophy “A tear shed in private is a tear not shed” (Did someone else say that?)
So I hide all this from other people. Well, except you because you’re reading this apparently. And it makes me feel good. I tell myself that I shouldn’t burden them, it is wrong and unChristian in my case. They won’t feel sorry for me anyway, they think I have it easy. And there’s nothing they can do anyway, they won’t be able to help me with my problem. They’ll only think the worse of me. “Ungrateful, pathetic, naive, weak.” So I keep my mouth shut. I smile and laugh before others. I believe that I am doing a good thing. By not complaining, I am pretending to be resilient and brave, content and happy. I occupy my time with work. But when I’m not reading the Odyssey, playing backyard golf, trying to figure out what in the world a derivative is, or talking to people with the secret hope that one day they will come to like me, I am sad. When no one is around, and even when they are around, negative thoughts crowd my brain.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I doubt that other people are quite as ridiculous as me, and if they are, they probably have a better reason. I don’t know if it’s a chemical imbalance, a lack of character, the work of Satan, a natural phenomenon, or a strange combination of it all, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter.
I am sick of my own lousy attitude. I tell myself every day, “Gee, I’m so tired of being tired.” I have a little drill sergeant in my head constantly saying, “Grow a pair, stop your moping, get out there and face the world! It’s not so bad, not so bad at all!” Apparently this tactic is not effective enough.
Sometimes, I succeed in being positive. But this only seems to last for a little while. The grief always returns. Yet if I continue on like this, I’ll run myself into the ground. My health will suffer, I’ll age, I’ll throw my life away.
I need to stop expecting so much out of life. Great expectations are the root of my problem. I need to stop comparing myself to others, and for goodness sakes, I need to be happy for those who have what I don’t have, and maybe they will be happy for me too.
But all this is much easier said than done. Getting your priorities straight, directing your pity away from yourself…
I ask God to help me. I tell Him my troubles, yet they don’t seem to go away. I take matters into my own hands too much. I make assumptions, I doubt, I wallow.
I know that I need to grow up. I need to learn how to play the cards I’ve been dealt. And I don’t think that having all my problems solved is really going to help me, so maybe it’s time to stop dreaming of that. Baby steps, baby steps towards a nobler goal.