Socks and Self-Pity
Today I am grateful for much-needed rain overnight and for old songs that I can listen to whenever I want, thanks to YouTube.
Yesterday I slipped into a little self-pity. It was likely a combination of being tired, not getting my usual endorphin fix over the last few days, and possibly being premenstrual. I will occasionally take a foray back to territory that used to be so familiar to me. The slippery slope of self-pity. It's like trading in the good pair of glasses that gratitude gives me for an old pair with smudges and cracks and an outdated prescription. I don't see very well and I start to lament on my poor set of circumstances-I'm not getting what I want. I've had to deal with things other people haven't. I'm not getting the attention I think I should. Why doesn't anybody care? What's the use? Why work so hard all the time?
I start comparing my insides to other people's outsides. Never a good idea. I always come up way short. (And wrong of course, but don't try to tell me that when I am sliding down the slippery slope.)The good news is that I catch myself fairly quickly and recognize the pity party unfolding. I can usually pinpoint a trigger, such as the aforementioned tiredness, lack of endorphins, or PMS and start to turn things around before I have slid down the slope right into quicksand. I used to live on that slope and in that quicksand. Drinking to excess was my only escape, and it was temporary and came with its own set of problems.
Gratitude practice began putting me on firmer footing over eighteen years ago. The territory I reside in is no longer so treacherous and full of traps. Even if I slip into self-pity mode from time to time, that slip doesn't lead to a major fall or alcohol consumption.
The reference to socks? They helped pull me out of the quicksand. I was folding clothes yesterday afternoon, ready to curse both my husband and son for having their socks inside out AGAIN! Instead, I employed a little gratitude trick I thought of years ago. Rather than cursing them for not doing things my way (just a little ego issue of mine) and making more work for me, I instead lovingly turned those socks right-side out and said thanks for that husband, that son, their socks, our home, our lives together . . . you get the idea.
Gratitude works.
Yesterday I slipped into a little self-pity. It was likely a combination of being tired, not getting my usual endorphin fix over the last few days, and possibly being premenstrual. I will occasionally take a foray back to territory that used to be so familiar to me. The slippery slope of self-pity. It's like trading in the good pair of glasses that gratitude gives me for an old pair with smudges and cracks and an outdated prescription. I don't see very well and I start to lament on my poor set of circumstances-I'm not getting what I want. I've had to deal with things other people haven't. I'm not getting the attention I think I should. Why doesn't anybody care? What's the use? Why work so hard all the time?
I start comparing my insides to other people's outsides. Never a good idea. I always come up way short. (And wrong of course, but don't try to tell me that when I am sliding down the slippery slope.)The good news is that I catch myself fairly quickly and recognize the pity party unfolding. I can usually pinpoint a trigger, such as the aforementioned tiredness, lack of endorphins, or PMS and start to turn things around before I have slid down the slope right into quicksand. I used to live on that slope and in that quicksand. Drinking to excess was my only escape, and it was temporary and came with its own set of problems.
Gratitude practice began putting me on firmer footing over eighteen years ago. The territory I reside in is no longer so treacherous and full of traps. Even if I slip into self-pity mode from time to time, that slip doesn't lead to a major fall or alcohol consumption.
The reference to socks? They helped pull me out of the quicksand. I was folding clothes yesterday afternoon, ready to curse both my husband and son for having their socks inside out AGAIN! Instead, I employed a little gratitude trick I thought of years ago. Rather than cursing them for not doing things my way (just a little ego issue of mine) and making more work for me, I instead lovingly turned those socks right-side out and said thanks for that husband, that son, their socks, our home, our lives together . . . you get the idea.
Gratitude works.
Comments
Post a Comment