It's All About Me

Every now and then I get stuck in an "It's-all-about-me" frame of mind. A burst of rabid housecleaning over the weekend, left me with an angry back. As much as I wanted my Just 10 walk, I knew that for my back's sake, I'd better wait a few days. As a result, I felt really stuck. I was not a happy camper.

To make matters worse, when taking myself and my son for a much needed haircut this morning, the hair dresser made an undiplomatic comment about drawing attention away from my face. I already know I have a wrinkly bowling ball for a head so I tend to be a bit sensitive when my round head is recognized by others. Ever since, my thoughts keep returning to my abnormally, large, scary, head.

There is some divine justice at play here. I used to give my brother, David, a horrible time about his large head. When he was little, my comment about moving his giant head out of the way of the television would usually make him cry. Part of evil little me enjoyed his anguish. He was Mom's favorite.

Later, when we were older, I'd occasionally pull a remark about his large head out of my nasty verbal arsenal. He'd reply with a laugh, "You are just jealous because I have more brains." He was no longer a little boy in tears. I had met my match. He'd often catch me off guard by telling me: "Carol, the doctor called today and they want you to come in for more tests." I'd hear the part about more tests and quickly say, "What?" He'd smile and say, "Yeah, the doctor wants you to come in because you're way dumber than we thought." The fact that I fell for this numerous times supports his theory.

At one point, my brother labeled me, "The smartest dumb person he knew." There has always been a part of me that saw some truth in that label. After all, I could and still make some poor choices. For example, I have allowed my bowling ball-sized head to get even bigger by overeating. There are a few people who can actually wear extra pounds well, I am definitely not one of them. The mistress of self-delusion, I spend days, weeks and even years kidding myself that the reflection I see in the mirror isn't really me. Inside, I still am the thin, 112-lb. girl I was at 20. Today, that came crashing down. Chubby cherubs must have flown down to earth and whispered in the ear of one special hair dresser. Her job: to help me meet the truth head on. . . wrinkly, bowling ball-shaped head on.

Thus, I began indulging in a pity-party for one. Unfortunately, this pity party conjured up some bad mojo and I was grumpy on the outside, taking pot-shots at those who dare to come too near. It's been an all-about-me kind of day. Slowly, as I write this my mood has been changing. My sense of humor is starting to revive. My ego is less sore and tender. It's time to step out of my own head for a few minutes and get a breath of fresh air.

Lately, I've been fascinated by how little rational thought and logic plays a role in people's actions. Around me are countless examples of people making less-than-good choices. Choices often seem to be impulsive reactions. Making good choices with any degree of consistency seems to be a rare occurrence. Remember the junk that found its way into your shopping cart on a recent trip to the grocery store? Remember the last time you drove on the freeway?

As I've crashed through a good part of my day, a crazy driver oblivious to the traffic around me, I have not been alone. Everyone of us is having a good, bad or somewhere-in-the-middle kind of day. When I see things through my own cloudy perceptions, I'm missing the much larger picture. I'm living on this planet at the same moment as billions of other people. We are all tragically flawed, some of us more than others. We can get stuck focusing only on the flaws, our round heads, our impatience, our limited insight. Or we can make better choices, we can question the effectiveness of "dumping on ourselves." How motivated is anyone when harshly criticized? Much of our self-abuse allows us to remain as we are. We focus on the problem but not the solution. We fail to rise above.

My head is still very round but now I can enjoy the fact that I still have cute dimples. I can find humor in the fact that I'm often trapped in the "prison of me." There is a world outside. This world is filled with people with round heads or thin and every variation in between. It's never really just-about-me.