Obsessed.

When I watch my daughter play with her toys I am able to see a side of myself in her response. Unfortunately, the most I see of me in her is in the negative responses, the ones where she becomes upset when things do not go as she expected them to. Even the seemingly difficult to understand situations such as saying she wanted a car, only to give her the car and have her cry. I am not that surprised however, I know she wanted the car in another way, like being lifted up to get the car herself. I know this because I am this. We both appear to want something, but it’s not the thing we want, but the manner in which we obtain that thing. I am as particular in my mind as she presents in her temper tantrums. I give a face as though I am confused in these behaviors to my wife to validate the ridiculousness of it all, however there is a part of me, inside, deep in there, that gets it. I get why she’s upset just like we all might at one point or another when something that we expected with a certain result does not go that way. 

An example is in how a person responds to me. If I go into a private session with high expectations of getting down to business, and instead I am met with uninteresting conversation about superficial things, then I am let down and wanting to throw a mental temper tantrum. A response I justify as “wasting my time.” Now, I want to make a clear distinction that I am not 2-years-old and just because there is a part of me that can relate, it does not mean I engage. After all, when I feel the urge to go to the bathroom, I do not do it in my pants, though I have thought about it every once in a while in a good paragraph and not wanting to break for the restroom. I also get hungry, whiny, and want people to know what I want and how I want it. If you wake me up, I too get crabby. If you catch me in a freezing windstorm to start talking about a problem you are having, you might get the condensed version of my best coping skill. Yes, my child is mine, identified by not only our similar appearance, but the familiarity in frustration. 

Unfortunately, for her, we get our temperaments from our parents. Again, unfortunately for her, I have what people refer to as a “high strung” personality. It is hard sometimes for me to let things be, allow things to organically produce. Instead, I have this need to control. A belief that a strong will can make anything happen. God reminds me of this fallacy by allowing me to try, only to be met with problems. Problems I created too, because I was too ridged in my thinking. After all, we are creatures with a free will, one I abuse by thinking I can do it all. 

Control can be achieved through a few different means. For me, I believe doing things as I see fit, in a grueling manner, at this ferocious pace, in this certain way, and that because I feel this way, others should comply. An example is in my attendance in the gym. I do not look at a magazine or a manual for a routine. I do not write anything down, for I know what I do and the worst part is if the situation strikes my fancy, then I will only add more, never take away. I must complete the routine, by this time, feel this way, by eating these certain foods at these times, go to bed, wake up, do my routine all as planned in a large-scale blueprint of accountable actions. Now, the worst part is that I am intolerant, for the most part, of any interference with this obsessed time table. It pains me to leave the gym without my mental checklist, my feeling, being satisfied. I have to experience these certain mental thresholds to feel as though I accomplished anything. Otherwise, my obsessed thinking, in combination with my overall temperament, equates to a wretched feeling that I have to deal with like I imagine a nagging wife would be like (for mine is not a nag). 

More on my story, Click Here. 

This, fortunately, is not where our stories stop. This is just the beginning. It is almost reliving to see my own behaviors, how they affect my life, see how deep the feeling goes, and how much value I put on it. It is merely a feeling, and a feeling no matter how uncomfortable, passes. Feelings come here and go there, like a breeze, a wave, a fart even. After all, “This too shall pass.” A truth to a cliché and a phrase that has to be absorbed, not merely stated. Distancing myself from the angst means recognizing it. Check. Now, I must feel the pang that comes with breaking the obsessed routine. I see what my behavior becomes, the destruction it causes, and purposefully do something different. Also, I take occurrences out of the blue as a gift forcing me to see outside of myself and then leaving me to deal with the uncomfortable feeling that comes with missed expectations. 

I do not know how other people feel disappointment, but what I do know is that more people than not have a problem with adjusting properly. It can be identified through relationship discord, alterations in environment leaving you feeling left out, lonely, lost. I see it in people who change a job and regret the decision. I see people come into a situation expecting others to acknowledge them, only to be met with a missed high five, a nod to a guy who was waving at the girl behind them, or even the new vehicle, house, clothes, people fail to praise them for. 

See, I know this because I live it. The behaviors exist, for they always will, as a part of me. What I do now is see them for what they are, a dependence on an expectation that when met fulfills a fragile self-esteem, when unmet, leaves me reinforcing all negative aspects of my self. 

“Well, they shouldn’t have nodded my way anyways, I’m not anything special.” A though that occurs quickly as a response to that embarrassing missed acknowledgement. Oh especially when it happens in front of people too, like me, at the gym, in front of a full line of treadmills. “Welp, I look dumb.” A coping skill I accept. A thought I laugh at. A response that prevents me from defining my entire existence on a missed opportunity to look “cool.” Plus, I’ve seen the recorded videos of me interacting with people, I look anything but, “cool,” and I’m OK with that.