Archive for the ‘Me’ Category

And by you, I mean me.  Yes, give a little bit of my love to me.  “Why?” you may ask.  Well cause in honor of Valentine’s Day (the Hallmark-iest holiday of them all) it’s self-love day.


I think it came just in time given my last post.  And D is right, it’s time to stand up to myself, not just for myself.  Step one is my participation in this self-love day.

The gist: Post a banner and a blog declaring February 14 as the day you love yourself.  Then post one thing (I interject: only one?!)  you like about yourself.  Ask others to post something they like about you (Kendra: walking tours of Chicago are forthwith banned from this exercise!).  Enjoy.

So, one thing I like about myself…I was going to say sense of humor, but that seemed too easy.  So, I am going to say the fact that small things make me happy.  I get excited about small things and find a lot of contentment with them.  Witness the pure joy I displayed when buying myself a coffee maker, which amused the sales girl and other customers.  Withness the excitement with which I put together my new bedding ensemble.  Or, the fact that I find contentment in a cozy Sunday with a movie.  It means I am thankful for a lot of things in my life, and I also  think finding joy in small things helps set me up for a more positive outlook and a half-full glass.  Because despite that last post, generally I see things in a good (though sometimes cynical) way. 


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My Fair Share of Abuse

I am truly my own worst critic.  I’ve probably mentioned before how hard I am on myself.  Best Friend has told me, on a number of occassions that I should stop worrying so much about how I treat others–I’m great to them but I’m a total bitch to myself. 

It’s true.

I don’t know if it’s partly my constant worrying turned onto myself. Or that Catholic upbringing that induces massive heaps of guilt, especially when it is from a parish that seems to have mislaid the memo on Vatican II.  It could partly be that I had an emotionally abusive father.  It’s most likely a combination of these things.

Whatever the reason, the truth is simply this: every mistake I make, I agonize over and beat myself up on again and again.  Every decision I try to make, I second guess because I don’t trust myself.  Almost every action I take is riddled with trepidation.  Even for a split second I think (no, I think I know) I will screw it up.  I am never good enough for myself. 

Despite how many people tell me I’m great or awesome, despite how many times I have bosses or coworkers or teachers tell me I am doing a good job, regardless of all the kudos I might get, I continue to self-abuse.

And even when I do recognize on a logical level that I’m pretty cool, the message doesn’t always sink down to the emotional.

This has all been coming to a head for me lately.  “Every day, I think I’m going to get fired,” I told a group of friends on Friday.

“What?!” exclaimed Bluebird.  “Why would you think that?”  And although I could not produce a concrete reason for these thoughts, they were no less true.

“Because I’m terribly hard on myself.  There’s no other reason,” I replied and she continued to stare at me in shock. 

There is no reason.  I just live in fear of a mistake.  Because even though I would allow them in others, I don’t tolerate them in myself.  Even though I know in my head that perfect is not reality, I want it for myself in my heart.

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Recently a friend of mine who will remain name (and initial) less told me that he had a pet peeve–people calling Thanksgiving “Turkey Day.” He pointed out that it’s not such a great day for the turkey. When I looked at him quizzically he pointed out that pet peeves usually don’t make the most sense. At least, not to anyone whose pet peeve it isn’t.

True, true.

A few weeks later the same friend, and a few others, were running through a list of names that a Chicago club (most recent called “Cherry Red”) has assumed throughout the years. He said one name was philosophers. Then came the clincher…”Only it was spelled f-u-r-s,” he concluded.

Visions of a sign reading “Philosofurs” flooded my head. Inwardly, I winced. “That’s so stupid!”I cried out. And then noticed the looks of my friends around me. “I absolutely hate it when people purposely misspell things.” And with that, my irrational pet peeve emerged and his faded into the background.

I absolutely cannot stand it when people try to be all clever and misspell a product or company name. “EZ to bake brownees,” or “Philosofurs” is guaranteed to make my blood boil just a bit. I especially can’t stand it if it doesn’t even make sense. Were they trading fur at this club? I doubt it.

Over the weekend my mother and I went to pick up my grandmother at her assisted living facility. It’s called “Cerenity.” Why they spelled it with a “C” I will never know. There seems to be no reason to have done so. The first time I saw the sign I asked my mom. She had no explanation and seemed to think it was dumb too. As we entered the grounds and I saw that sign, I rolled my eyes. “There’s that stupid sign,” I said, delving once again into the pet peeve that only I, and a few others, truly understand.

Maybe it’s because I’m a word nerd. Maybe it’s because, as I once declared to Best Friend, I would love the job of Ruler of the English Language. Whatever it is, now you all now my irrational pet peeve. And just to top it all off, don’t forget about irrational fears. Mine are mummies (as you know) and centipedes (I mean, it’s not like they can hurt me).

What are your irrational fears and pet peeves?

“What is Monica’s biggest pet peeve?….Animals dressed as humans…That’s correct.” -Ross & Joey, Friends.

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