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Life has been treating me well. As a matter of fact, I really can't recall being this content with myself or my situation for this amount of time.
I've always tended to be happy for brief periods -- accompanied by apprehension that this feeling of well-being or streak of good luck can't possibly last for too much longer -- followed by an equal or longer amount of depression or discontent, either for myself or a perceived unjust treatment. I suppose I never really wanted to accept the fact that life simply is unfair, and that sometimes, what one reaps isn't always what one sows.
I've always believed that if one is a Good Person, life should and will treat that person well.
Now, I still believe that, but that simplistic, quixotic ideal is tempered with a bit of down-to-earth practicality. There are those out there who are Good People but never seem to hit their stride. Or are Good People but live from paycheck to paycheck. Or are Good People but inexplicably are pelted by a continual hailstorm of bad luck.
It's taken me this long to learn that being a Good Person -- or doing your best to try to be -- doesn't mean you can sit on your laurels and let the world's blessings come to you.
Until a few years ago, I really used to let Rotten Apples get me down. I felt like I walked around with a target on my back that said, "Please pick on me." Nearly every time I'd get rejected, cut off, dejected, snubbed, ripped off, singled out, forgotten or denied by someone, I'd bitterly pout, "Are other people treated this horribly?" That inevitably shoved me into a shame spiral in which I'd blame myself, thinking that if I weren't so fat or ugly, these endless cycles of negativity wouldn't be sticking to me like refrigerator magnets.
So one day a few years ago, I stepped on the scale and took a good, long, hard look at the "180" staring back at me. At 30, I wasn't in the "young person" demographic any more. I knew that the longer I stayed at 180, the harder it would be to lose it. And because I was rowing with a team back then, I was carrying a bit of guilt along with all that heft: I was one of the heaviest people in the boat at the time (and one of the shortest), exacerbating my feelings of inadequacy.
It took me 30 years to grow up and get over my manic depression. Turning 30 was a turning point. I realized that if it really *was* my obesity and dumpy, pathetic appearance that brought all the negative energy upon myself, there's one way to prove it: by taking them out of the equation.
So here I am, several years later, 30 pounds lighter, feeling fit and taking chances in my career with a confidence I never had before.
Don't get me wrong -- I still get bitter sometimes, bitter that life isn't fair. Bitter that it really *is* who you know. Bitter that being a shy, homely person rarely gets you anything but unnoticed. But I don't sit and stew on it any more. It's something I'm finally OK with, mainly because I know that with all the changes in myself and my career these past few years, I've worked hard to try to even out the playing field.
Current mood: Nerdy
Current music: Feel Good Inc | Gorillaz
Replies: 1 shoutout
well said, and good for you. and you're not homely.
Posted by rj @ 05/07/2005 09:06 PM EST