I gave myself a nickname.
In the angst driven moment where I took a good hard look at Juan and realized that even I could not stand myself, I looked into the imaginary mirror of life and said the words out loud:
You are a whiny little b!+<£.
Complain, complain, complain.
I was exhausted by my complaints: too tired, too much work, not enough time, need a vacation…
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
I had been on the automatic pilot of poor me for so many weeks that I just detested this person I had become.
And no, this is not a self loathing rant. Believe me when I say I have an abundance of love and admiration for myself, I simply did not like this negative air hovering around me – a cloud of doom perhaps created by me.
So last night when I got home and proceeded to work on the 'to don't' list that doesn't seem to shrink, I focused my perspective and tried to readjust my attitude.
This revelation was met with apprehension since my stomach had been holding protest vigils from earlier in the day when I decided that I should have a spicy chimichanga for lunch.
The last time I had a chimichanga, there was a restaurant named Cisco's, my friend Martha was a waitress and the amount of hairs on my head exceeded my waist size by thousands.
The chimi decision was a poor one and proved that poor nutrition can contribute to bouts of moodiness.
After a little plop-plop-fizz-fizz in the form of America’s wonder drug Alka-Seltzer, I reigned the protesters in and went about trying to embrace happy.
I whispered the words my friend Barbara had encouraged:
‘I surrender’ emanated from me almost as a plea to the universe to help me combat this nastiness in my world. I said it both out loud and to myself so many times that surely had a cop been around I would have been arrested. My surrender was to myself, to this imperfect being I had engaged in this battle against the realities of life.
I would love to say the surrender technique worked but it did nothing for me other than remind me of the whiny little b—- I had become.
I was the Whiny Little B—– from the town of Chimi, I was the duly elected Mayor in my City of Protestation and I was the President of all things negative. I had to make a choice and my choice needed to turn things around.
Ar the risk of over sharing yet again, at 3:00 AM this morning I threw up and the Chimichanga of Doom is no more. I surrendered the chimichanga.
Am I in a better mood and more positive frame of mind? Probably not, but I’m going to keep trying and enjoy the endorphins created by this beautiful Friday.
Whiny Little B—- be damned, I surrender.
(Still didn’t work).