I am currently in therapy for my supremely messy brain and as with most things the solution to my problems is simple: I need to stop worrying about stuff I can’t control and work on the stuff I can. Genius. Genius. Stone cold genius!
The problem is I’ve been worrying about everything since I was six. And, I’m good at it. I worry about what other people do, don’t do, do wrong, do right but at the wrong time, are scared to do, what they should do, what they could do, what they will do (I like worrying about what people will do), what they won’t do and all other iterations of this. I worry about this because I know best and I am always right.
Now, I can say this with my tongue in cheek but deep down I actually think that I am right. What arrogance! The thing is, most of us do this. Only the Dalai Lama and Oprah don’t. And the Dalai Lama does it sometimes, too. I am right. I am so right. I am right and the world needs to agree with me. The universe must conform to my way of thinking and celebrate my right thinking ways! Hail the Queen of Logic and Common Bloody Sense!
The need to be right isn’t arrogant or narcissistic (much). It comes from a fear of not being seen. A need to have your worldview validated, and to make the big bad scary outside smaller and fluffier. The need to be right is the argument you have in the shower, in your head with the person who has wronged you. The imagined showdown where you tell them exactly what you think of them. You list their flaws and transgressions. They may try to fight back but in your perfectly scripted fantasy you have the answer to everything. Witty comebacks, put-downs that will have them wincing at the thought of your words and elegantly dropped truth bombs that make them question their entire existence fly. It’s a pity it’s all in your head.
I dream these confrontations. I am the expert in “and then I’ll say…” I am good because I am right about so many things. The correct way to wash up, the way to raise children, who to vote for, the way to eat scones, where my husband should work. (I interrupted the writing of this piece to tell the beloved that the room he was working in was too hot. I am right about this. He has ignored me.)
The problem is, I’m tired. I’m getting stressed and worked up and the world is refusing to bend to my will. I have to concede that other people may sometimes be right. Also, the ideals of free will and free speech don’t sit well with my personal tyranny. It may be time to let somethings go. Like, not give a hoot about it. I’m trying it out. That means no more imaginary conversations. Not telling the beloved exactly how to do everything. A break from trying to work out other peoples motivation and whether they know or care that I think they are wrong and when they are going to change their ways. Sounds simple. So easy. The most basic thing ever.
It’s bloody terrifying. Letting go and concentrating on my life and my needs rather than telling other people how to live. It’s a whole new world. Wish me luck in my quest to some times be wrong and not care.