I can never let things just be. I was blessed (cursed?) with an over-analytical brain that likes to take something that usually requires no thinking whatsoever and dissect it until A) I am satisfied with understanding the outcome or B) get so wound tight that I jump down the rabbit hole of darkness, only to pull myself out days later, wondering why the hell I was near the rabbit hole in the first place. It’s this mind of mine that has put me in a cloudy stupor these past few weeks, trying to figure out (yet again) my place in life, my place in other people’s lives, all the while tiptoeing around that damn rabbit hole of self-doubt, wondering, why can’t I just let things be?
Case and point: You can’t make someone like you. No matter how hard you try. No matter how nice you are or how much you give or hold back. In both my professional and personal life, there is nothing I enjoy more than getting along with everyone I know. But if there is something that I continually need a lesson is, it is this: Not everyone is going to like you every given moment of every given day. Some people will just not like you, no matter how hard you try to make them like you. And there’s the lesson: You can’t make someone like you, so why even fret? You can’t make the guy like you. You can’t make the co-worker see it your way. And why would you want to? Why would you want to force someone to have feelings for you, or shove your views down their throat? It is a life lesson that I have yet to conquer, one I think I will always have trouble with, as the people-pleaser/personal assistant/good daughter/best friend/everyone-before-me attitude rears its ugly head. As bad as it sounds, I will always have a hard time being selfish for me. I will always try to comfort others before myself. And maybe that’s the lesson…that for once, I should be selfish.
I strive in a community of friends. I feel rejuvenated after long talks about life with friends. It makes me feel like I’m not alone. Sometimes I feel so isolated by my thoughts that I forget that life continually goes on, that just being able to take a breath is a gift, and that for all my over-analytical faults and general self-loathing angst that comes from years of underlining self-doubt about my contribution to the world at large, I am fine.
If only I would learn to just.let.it.be.
