I don't know why I avoided this Sunday Scribblings Prompt for so long. Ordinarily, it would be right up my alley. Honestly, why do I (or anyone else for that matter) Blog?
So we can talk about ourselves ad nauseum without boring the people in our real lives to tears.
I am always classified by the people who know me in Real Life as an "extrovert," so why was there such hesitation from me to address this prompt?
I think it's because I have two distinct "Selves."
There is my Work Self, and that is my Self that I want to be the most. At work, I am confident, outspoken, daring, decisive, productive. My co-workers constantly remark about my Energy and Knowledge. My co-workers have been known to describe me as a "Gerbil on a Treadmill" and "Uber-Perky" (which kind of annoys me because that makes me look like a Spaz, which I'm NOT, but I DO work with people who are, mostly in their 50s and 60s...I'm the Lone Gen X'er in a Sea of Baby Boomers!) They are amazed that every little thing that has been published in the last decade I can not only REMEMBER, but also pull up an old email or Microsoft Office file to prove it. I make them all Tired. They constantly come to me requesting advice or direction. My Boss also trusts me completely and relies upon my opinions and advice to make decisions. He runs EVERYTHING by me or through me. I have even "listened in" surreptitiously on conference calls I was not supposed to be on, just so I could feed him information via email, so he could respond to questions when he was put "on the spot."
And then there is my Other Self. The insecure, sad, scared, timid, socially-awkward Self. COMPLETE OPPOSITE of my Work Self.
I HATE this Self. People who know me--REALLY know me--like my parents and my sister and, yes, even my ex-husband--also HATE this Self because it doesn't make any sense. There is absolutely NO reason for me to be insecure, sad, scared, timid, or socially-awkward. They look at me, their jaws agape, wondering what the HELL is wrong with me. I have EVERYTHING. I'm smart. I'm respected. I'm successful. I'm funny. I'm not afraid to get up in front of 200 people and give a presentation. I can play piano, make quilts, prepare Brunch for 70, sew Halloween Costumes, Breastfeed while working full-time for 18 months, and feed my Babies nothing but homemade, preservative-free Baby Food. I make boat-loads of money. I can navigate airports, and understand Cab Drivers in strange cities. My children score off the charts on Standardized Tests with little to no intervention from me.
Despite all of these "Mad Skillz" I continue to immerse myself in hurtful self-dialogue. WHY do I do this? I have no idea. My "Work Self" clearly recognizes it as stupid and unproductive and ridiculous. Yet, there it is, and I have NO EXCUSE--I was never abused or violated or bullied in childhood. I have no "Sob Story." There is absolutely NO REASON for my madness; yet, that "madness" cripples me and keeps me up at night.
