Let me begin this post with the cliffs notes version, because I tend to ramble (as noted in the title 🙂 and most people don’t want to read all that crap.

1. I’m a good person

2. I’m a bad person

3. I’m afraid to do my life’s work because of the bad parts of myself and what people might think.

4. I’m in a constant battle between who I am now (who BTW I think is funny and interesting, and I don’t really want to abandon just to ‘be a good person’ all the time), who I think I should be (authentically kind, consistent, and  unconditionally loving and accepting 100% of the time), and what that means to how I interact in the world and what I do as meaningful work (what it has meant so far is I don’t write or teach or finish what I start).

5. I decided to be brave, come clean, tell the world I’m a bastard AND a good person…and write my truth.

Now the long rambling version that I wrote last night before the ‘economy of words’ concept occurred to me:

I am a good person…no really, I am. I know that sentence is begging for a sir-mix-a-lot sized ‘BUTT’, but I actually wanted to acknowledge the fact that, most of the time, generally, I am a decent human being. I love humanity, patiently wait in rush hour traffic without losing my shit, and love me some baby seals.

The thing is, that I’m also a Cards Against Humanity RockStar and I’m a freaking horrible human being (on occasion). I identify with every ‘ist’ there is on some level, and find myself making some of the most inappropriate comments (or at least thinking inappropriate thoughts) at the cruelest possible moments. I’ve made racist comments to genocide survivors, sexist jokes to sad and insecure teenage girls, intelligence jokes to busty blondes (my peeps!), every possible racist stereotype, I make light of disease and suffering and death (in fact, remind me to tell you this story about when I joked with an absolute stranger about bringing his dead father on a plane as a carry-on–it was hysterical…well…I guess…I mean you really had to be there), and although almost nothing fazes me when it comes to blood/guts/and violence…the flaky dry puff of airborne skin that falls off old people like ticker tape in a what should be a ‘please bring back Kevorkian’s compassionate end of life’ parade makes me gag. You’re getting the picture?

So all that being said, I have found that this particular cognitive dissonance has prevented me from truly living my best life and doing what I truly and deeply love. Embarrassingly, not for the “right” reasons either. I’d like to say that with all my incredible incessant self work and therapy, I still won’t commit to my truest passion for fear of how it might affect or hurt someone (which is very true on many levels), but I think the real reason I’m afraid to ‘live my passion’ as ‘they’ (i.e. ‘I’) always say, is more because I’m afraid of what people will think of me…yes, let it soak in. I’m 40 years old and still afraid of what people will think of me and my inconsistencies.  How it will look to be someone fiercely promoting love and happiness and living your very best life, while still making rude and hurtful jokes and comments…and worse not even noticing my own impropriety or being ashamed (unless it actually visibly hurts someones feelings and then I feel so incredibly horrible that I can’t breathe). The truth is that I like my personality. I’m funny and self deprecating, and people like me (wow…that didn’t sound desperate or anything *grin*)

I have this thing where I am compelled to try to make the world a better place and inspire people to live their very best life. I truly, sincerely, deeply care about humanity. I believe that we are all connected and this world-and this life-is our responsibility. I spend the majority of my time trying to imagine new ways to help people live their very best life, to make people happy, to make some kind of difference…Giving and helping and writing and teaching are my truest joys and life’s work…The thing is, that I’m also a horrible human being.  The part I can’t wrap my brain around is how could people trust and learn from someone so fundamentally broken and flawed as me?

Well all I know at this moment is that me NOT doing my avocation not only isn’t helping the world, but it is giving me chronic headaches and making me feel meaningless and hollow…and because depression is not sexy by any stretch of the imagination (and I’m still trying to land this amazing hottie I’ve been dating) I’ve decided to suck it up. Reel in this whiny, excuse making, monster of a pity party and do something already.

Today, I choose to be brave. Not brave like jump in front of a bullet for someone or fight for someones honor (those things would make me look cool by society’s standards and thus would probably be easier for an ego maniac such as myself to do), but brave with myself…my whole self…the self I have judged for being cruel, hated for being ugly, loathed for being angry, despised for being weak. I choose to be brave and accept my whole self as…me.  So great big world judge me…the truth is I doubt you could trump the level I judge myself (umm… on second thought…knock on wood, strike that…statement like that never turn out well).

I enjoy writing, but never call myself a writer…I always have the caveat that I’m not a REAL writer for any number of reasons (I can’t spell for shit, have a terrible memory, I’m not constantly profound, and don’t even get me started on my literary failings).  All my infinite faults aside, I am a writer. I am a writer and I will write my truth…

(It really does sound easier than it is *grin* no seriously…I’ve got like hives. Doing what you’re meant to do isn’t always easy. You would think it would be, right?!? Hmmm…not so much in this case. I’ll keep you posted.)