For some years, the not-turning-out-brilliant thing bothered me. In addition to that defeat, I worked countless jobs I couldn’t stand and staggered through relationships that bordered on psychotic.
My run of failures baffled me. No matter how much logic I applied and how much I analyzed my every move, I could never figure out what I was doing wrong. So, I did what any Gen-X woman would do. I turned to the self-help genre for advice.
This screwed up my thinking for many years to come.
All the self help books will tell you thoughts become actions, so be careful what you think and for God’s sake, don’t say anything you don’t want to actually happen. They also tell you that what you express gratitude for will multiply in your life.
So now when I get up in the morning for work I say to myself, God, thank you that I have a wonderful home, my life, my health, an amazing job to go to someone please kill me so I don’t have to face one more day over there thank you God, thank you for my wonderful job.
Self-help talk has a way of getting into fisticuffs with the truth in your brain so that you begin to develop a kind of self-help schizophrenia. You want to see everything as a blessing, but you’re mind doesn’t always buy it.
Don’t get me wrong, my job is a blessing, but let’s face it, it’s stressful having to perform for others every day and deal with endless work-related nonsense. There are so many opportunities for making an ass of one’s self, not to mention for pointing out what an ass everyone else is.
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