Call this one my BlogFlog.
Every time I play golf (flog backwards for those non-self- flagellaters) I come home in a state and you wouldn’t want to live in it.
Trouble is I do inhabit that unhealthy state of mind far too often, and not just after hacking around the golf course. But, for me, golf serves as the perfect allegory for how I have historically run my inner life.
I drive to the course with the highest of expectations; can’t wait to get up there on the first tee and smack the little white sphere 250-plus yards staright down the middle, then walk smilingly to it as I admire it laying in the center of the emerald grass carpet.
Then I actually swing at the ball and my dreams are smashed. Sometime 4-1/2 hours and 120ish strokes later, I leave cursing myself in language I would never say out loud to any other sentient being.
Lest I lose you non-golfers here, let me note here again that I’ve used golf as the allegory, In truth, most of the interior monologues follow exactly the same path. In everything from my smallest actions, to my human interactions, to my daily reactions to life’s transactions, I generally feel disappointed – hell, p.o’ed—about my performance/behavior.
Call it a virulent case of perfectionism or simply a matter of unreasonable expectations or, more to the point, unrelenting self-sabotage; whatever it is, I’ve got it and I’ve got it bad.
Not nearly as bad as when I was younger, or when I was active in my multiple addictions, but still bad enough that I’m writing about it 24,664 days into my life (11/18/13).
My Bubbe would have said, “Genug (enough) already”, and she would be 100 percent right. It’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay past time I put down the whip and stopped salting the self-inflicted wounds. If others see me as good enough and whatever deity is out there continues to bless me with this wonderful life I have, who am I to keep berating myself.
Good question Who am I? I believe this blog will help me figure out the answer(s).
Don’t think, Gill. The mind’s a bad neighborhood and you should never go in there alone. Just keep writing.