Snarky, loud, and Irish proud.

This is my new favorite genre of disappointed Trump voter. Meet the Trump voter taking it in the teeth at tax time.

if he says he’s got beef

that i’m a vegetarian

and i ain’t

Don’t outsmart your common sense.

Fear.

Fear of failure. Fear of commitment. Fear of not being accepted or valued or loved or good enough or attractive enough or… or… or…

When you break it down, what your afraid of is… yourself. Your afraid that you… the REAL you… the you that you try to keep hidden from others… is going to let you down. Again.

How do you break defeat that fear? Honestly, I don’t know. But I know what I’m trying to do; I’m trying to commit to myself at least as much as I commit to others. Even small things. If I show myself that I can do those things for myself then I’ll know I can do them for others.

So far… it’s working. Yeah, it’s in small doses but it’s working. My kids have already noticed. I’m going you try to build on the small success. Stepping stones. If I keep it small then nothing will look insurmountable.

automobile

changing coolant

changing oil

changing tire

jumping a car

plumbing

toilet running

basement flooding

replace a faucet

clogged drain

electrical

replacing light switches

blew a fuse

installing overhead light

earth vs. neutral vs. live wires

home

patching drywall

finding studs

like i recently had to change my car battery and freaked out cause i thought id electrocute myself but turns out new batteries come with directions and its the easiest shit in the world so long as you can lift the damn thing. 

I’ve constantly had this incessant, pathetic need to impress anyone I viewed as being in a position of authority. Supervisors, older friends, whatever. It’s been something like a compulsion for as long as I can remember.

I’ve also had an almost pathological need to excel at my job. Any job. Even jobs I didn’t want and, ultimately, didn’t like. I HAD to be great at them. Any negative review or remark from a supervisor would send me into an anxiety fueled tailspin. I think that’s why I stayed at so many dead end jobs for so long.

I know where both of these things come from, of course. They’re tied directly to some of my deepest emotional scars from childhood. Throughout my life I’ve had this loud, reeking need for approval. “Tell me I did a good job.” “Tell me I’m good enough.” “Tell me I’m wanted.”

I was too afraid to admit that it wasn’t simply that I’d made wrong decisions but that my decision making process was wrong headed. I was arrogant. I was self indulgent. Mean spirited and angry. I was, quite simply, a man child that made decisions with little more than temper tantrum mentality.

I was too ashamed to admit that the decisions I’ve made and the things I’ve done haven’t just affected me; they’ve affected those around me. People I’ve claimed as friends and loved ones. And yet, I said and did things that hurt them. No, not intentionally but thoughtlessly and cruelly none the less.

I can live with how I’ve hurt myself. After all, that’s simply reaping what I sow. But the are no apologies that can be made for what I’ve done to others. Reopening old wounds to salve my own guilt is unconscionable.

So what do I do?