What’s wrong with Me?

In order to become a better person, a more desirable woman, a mate to another, a simple question needs an answer.  What’s wrong with me? Seems like a simple questions.  Instead, I find it to be loaded with many answers, like my friend, Van Gogh. However,  I will keep my appendages in tact.

In what ways do I offend or repel people?  I have always known I am very out spoken, a loud mouth at times.  Opinionated. With a severe case of interrupt-osis. Naturally, since I am acutely aware of these short comings, I do my best to change.  With a bit of success, I find myself the target of more truth than I first desired.  Funny how people become more comfortable telling you how they really feel, when notice you are open for constructive criticism. When the stinging honesty is no longer welcome, we regress into our old ways to avoid this type of pain.  Overcompensation of one bad habit with another.

Is there something I can improve on?  Become soft.  Blur the sharp edges of the soul.  Soften the witty tongue. Warm the cockles and open thy heart.  Sounds easy.  Never is. Controlling our own outbursts is much harder than we realize.  In theory it appears simple.  Obtainable. Doable.  In reality, when practiced, it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth and a flash of embarrassing flush of  heat throughout the body. Paralyzing effect on the brain as you begin to second guess your actions, your intentions.

Hopeless, vicious circle? Maybe. But then again, if I don’t try to improve myself, what am I? Dead? So, I continue these improvements, little by little, with the understanding that once in a while, it is going to sting.

My happy moment was found today in the form of self-satisfaction.  I am satisfied with who I am, and always aspire to be better toward others.  I’m OK, you’re OK!


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