I don’t have the same sense of accomplishment I used to have after I do things. I used to feel great that I did chores, finished homework, finished a day at work, etc. But now I don’t feel that as much. I’ve been getting into a habit of rewarding myself after accomplishing things. Maybe I’m corrupting my sense of accomplishment with an external reward, conditioning myself to only seek that external reward.
Dance, dance and be born
into silent screeches torn
across faces. Places we haven’t seen
since middle age, coming ahead.
Crises flowering into beds of Deadheads
dancing, dancing, drinking creaky cheeks
meeting fleeting greets and stretching skyward. Another one bites and she said
Another one bites and she said
“I’ll pick you if you forget my name.”
It’s a constant battle with myself and I’m losing. I think I’ve given up trying to control my life because I experienced a huge loss of control and I realized that I don’t have complete control over my life. I made no sales that winter and I was supposed to have at least one. Just one sale would’ve tied me with me with the next loser above me. But no, I failed the hardest and I let everyone down, including my manager who believed in me and spent a lot of time coaching me. I told myself daily during that sales trip that I could do anything I put my mind to. I kept telling myself that, day after day in spite of my miserable performance. I positive-self-talked myself with a refrain, “you can do it, you will not stop unless stopped by the cops”. Then, the last day came and I felt completely destroyed. It proved to me that I could NOT do everything I put my mind to. That there were things I was just bad at. This did not sit with me well. Ever since, I’ve been battling with myself over everything, thinking that there was no point in doing anything since I could just be bad at it, or that I could not control the outcome. I didn’t want this new perspective, but it just stuck. Now, I have a tendency to make excuses for myself whenever I don’t follow through with good behavior. Some part of me thinks, “Life could fuck you up at any second, what the point of taking any control at all?”. I know intellectually that I should make an effort precisely because so much is random and out of my control. I need to try to mitigate the damage. But on a gut level, I’m still making excuses for myself.
I need to increase my own reputation with myself, or else I’ll get so depressed that I’ll commit suicide. Probably not. I love myself no matter what.