Who Are You?

Yes, I’m painfully well aware of the fact that there is no grace in giggling with delight over the prospect of watching The Universe prepare to dole out its "enough is enough" via an unexpected source. Nonetheless…

*does a little dance in front row seat*

Okay, now that I’m done acting like a child, I kind of want to look at a peculiar social phenomenon. I’m going to call it “When I Grow Up Syndrome” or WIGUS. There are really two varieties – one for men, one for women. Note that throughout my writings, I never say “men and women” but rather refer to gender specifics as “boys and girls.” I point this out because WIGUS is not a childhood affliction and I want there to be no confusion. Nope, this happens to supposed grown adults.

At its root, When I Grow Up Syndrome is all about making it past say, age 30 or so, and still having no idea who you are. It’s not about family or career; it’s about morphing in and out of personalities like Sybil! Let’s talk about the ladies first, since they’re the most entertaining.

We all know at least a few of these women. She wants to date a rocker; she becomes a rocker. She’s dating a Librarian, and suddenly she’s wearing reading glasses. Her “friends” switch from drinking martinis to drinking bourbon, and no matter how much she detests it, she switches too. She talks shit on people, or shares information she shouldn’t just to be “popular.” She has no idea who she is… so she’s just “them.”

Having never been one of these women, I’m not sure I understand the point of faking your way through relationships. Why pretend you’re someone or something you’re not, all the while declaring to everyone within earshot how different you are, when you’re so obviously the exactly the same? It’s weird to watch, yet incredibly difficult to look away! I expect some sort of nervous breakdown should anyone declare to the WIGUS woman that she is merely a lemming.

Now, because everyone loves a train wreck…

When these women “find” one another, it’s like the worst Lifetime Made for Television movie ever produced! They're like feral cats! I used to think it was just me, watching with my mouth hanging wide open in amazement and confusion, but lately I’ve discovered that the audience is huge! Some people wait for the inevitable implosion, others like myself, just stare in wonderment at the WIGUS of it all.

In men, WIGUS isn’t particularly entertaining and looks a lot like Peter Pan Syndrome. No news there! The only real difference I’ve found is that they generally don’t take their phases too seriously and are good-natured about a good ribbing. I haven't seen too many of these men make a real outward spectacle of themselves. They're infinitely more subtle most of the time. I'm not saying they never show their ass - they totally do! But it seems to manifest itself more often in drink, an awkward walking gait, or bad fashion choices.

I can only imagine how insecure, and perhaps lonely, these people are. They obviously have no real sense of self – and let’s face it, after 30, if you don’t have that, you’ve nothing. It appears as though their whole existence is based on trying to be what they think someone else wants. It’s a slippery slope when that behavior includes poor manners, or insinuating themselves where they don’t belong in an effort to feel important. Long after whatever relationship was involved is well over, people will only remember the unattractive bits of their behavior. It’s what inevitably leads to reputation demise. It’s interesting that they don’t see it coming. Perhaps it’s just too much to believe that after all the energy they put into being “someone” ultimately they’ll still be exactly who they are… or aren’t.

I would imagine the only chance these men and women have is a lot of therapy! Is it a self-esteem issue? Is it jealousy? Is it just years and years of being overshadowed by siblings or friends? I have no idea. I do have this idea about gathering them all up and putting them on the Minnow though!

Good Morning, Mourning

I may have mentioned this before, but I’ll say it again: I am not the kind of person who can be unemployed – for a number of reasons, really. First, I spend every single “free” minute stressing out over not having an income. Secondly, I’ve discovered that I can only stand my own company for six minutes. Not six minutes at a time – but total for the waking period. I don’t find myself that interesting.

It’s probably important to note that I would have less trouble with having nothing to do if there were someone in my life to support me.

So I’ve been painting during my down time. Not creatively; no this has been completely utilitarian. I’ve been painting interior doors.

[Sidebar: semi-gloss is the devil.]

The up side of this hideous chore is that, like mowing the lawn or scrubbing grout, it gives me plenty of time to think in a leisurely manner. No rush, I’m gonna be here all day anyway…

Finally! The point of that long introduction:

It occurred to me while cursing those damned fancy doors, that there are a number of things in my life I’ve been managing all “wrong” because I didn’t see them “right.”

It appears that I’ve been carrying on relationships, one in particular but several in general, only in my head. What I mean is that the relationship I thought I was having, didn’t actually exist in real life the way I insisted it did inside my little “Life Bubble.” I don’t like to see the ugly bits life doles out – I’ve seen enough, thank you very much – so I just paint them a color I like and pretend it was never ugly to begin with, employing the “if you don’t talk about it, it never happened” approach. Gee. That’s smart…*sarcasm*

Nonetheless, the up side is that since I shocked myself into reality with this revelation, I’m not paralyzed by mourning any longer. And it feels great! And brave! Like I can say all the things that have been swirling around in my head because I don’t have concern myself with the outcome. Which leads me to…

Do you ever think about the things you say to yourself before you go to sleep? The conversations you’ll never have with people you really want to set straight? Or the little lies we tell ourselves:
I’m happy.
It’s all perfectly fine.
Tomorrow, I will add on to my exercise program to lose these last five pounds.

It’s as though by whispering it late at night, it’ll stick. It will all be true in the morning. I do it all the time for whatever mad reason. Though I suppose now it’s because I never knew how bad it could hurt to lose something I never really had.