I really hate to be wrong and I hate to be misunderstood. I am constantly questioning my own motives and so when someone else questions my motives I become a porcupine throwing quills at the threat.
I have incredibly high–maybe impossibly high–standards for myself and when I apply those standards to other people, things generally do not go well. I become critical and disappointed and irritated.
But . . . I have studied the situation, I have noticed the details, I have figured out the correct way to do things. So why doesn’t everyone do things the right (my) way? This is the question that rides around with me like a pebble in my Birkenstock. This is my story.
I know this about myself yet I run this lap over and over again as if it’s a marathon and if I just keep running I’ll find a finish line.
When I get into a judgmental cycle, my inner critic points out my hypocrisy. Who am I to make up the rules? Am I perfect? Who am I to observe and critique? Am I the queen?
Who am I?
I am the one who just wants to be good and right and perfect.
But in this case (the case I can’t really tell you all about because it’s about work and also because it’s embarrassing when your boss’s boss commands you to march upstairs to a meeting in his office and then sternly gives you a talking to that you honestly don’t feel like you deserve because he’s clearly misunderstood you and your motives and your very essence but whatever), I am choosing to literally take a breath and stop.
What does it matter to me if others are are slackers, if they are wrong and don’t meet the/my standards? It can’t matter to me.
I am only responsible for myself. I am only responsible for myself. I am only responsible for myself.
I am not the rule enforcer or the supervisor or Your Majesty.
I know this and yet I forget.
But don’t remind me because I’ll throw a quill at you.