Author: Michelle

I don’t wanna be a loser
I don’t wanna be an almost was
–Everclear/Rock Star

Wishing to be different than you are creates unhappiness.
–Various

This is something that all the inspirational quote pushers seem to harp on. It seems to be sort of a near-Gospel “truth” that we can only be happy if we love ourselves the way we are, and stop wanting to be different.

Like many ideas, I both agree and disagree. There’s a balance to find.

Wishing there were things about me that were different does not automatically mean I will be unhappy. Wishing and not doing anything about it might. Wishing and hating myself might. Telling myself I suck because of it might.

On the other hand, it could also make me improve myself, learn something new or make a needed change in my life. If you are content with everything about yourself, maybe you’ll become stagnant. Maybe you won’t achieve everything you could. Or keep drinking too much.

Let’s take being fat as an example. First off, I’m going to refer to myself as fat. Hope no one gets all upset about that. For me, it’s a descriptive.
I don’t hate myself because I’m fat, but I do recognize that I am.

There could be a lot of reasons I might want to change that particular aspect of myself that have nothing to do with self-hate or unhappiness. Maybe I want to improve my health or have an easier time finding cute outfits. Taking steps to learn to eat sensibly and make better decisions about what I eat would potentially lead to a change. For those steps to happen, I’d have to wish I was different. It doesn’t follow that I would become unhappy as a result.

There are, I think, some changes to wish for that can be very good. Wishing something was different can be very positive. Daydreams put into plans can lead to good change. Learning to be more positive, patient or tolerant would tend to make you more rather than less happy if that’s a change you wished for and came up with a plan to do it.

There are other aspects of yourself that can’t be changed. Your age. Your ethnicity. Eye color. Skin color. The type of hair you have. Wishing they were different would tend to make you very unhappy.

Ask any 16 year old girl.

Wishing for change can be a catalyst if approached in the right way.

We need to figure out what we’re doing Friday.
What do you mean? Aren’t we going to that show?
Yeah, but are we going to have drinks or dinner before the show?
Sure. I thought we’d figure it out later.
It’s kind of later now.
True.
Do you have a preference?
Drinks somewhere.
…
…
Don’t give me that look. You mean like where?
Yes. Do you have a preference about where?
Not really. You?
I was thinking the Matador for tequila and tapas.
Not there.
Jake’s?
No, it’ll be too crowded.
So, where then?
I don’t care!
But you do care. That’s why I’m asking if you have a preference. You’re the pickiest person who doesn’t care in the world.
Sorry.
So…
What?
Sigh
What?!
Where do you want to go?
I don’t care!
I think I’ll just kill you and go to the Matador with one of my girlfriends.
Why are you mad?
You suck.

I still haven´t got over it even now.
I want to spend huge amounds of time in my room.
And I´m not coming out until I feel ready,
Not running out while my heart´s unsteady,
And I´m not really in your head.
–Everything But The Girl/Roller Coaster

There’s a world where I can go
And tell my secrets to
In my room
–Beach Boys/In My Room

When I was a little girl, my mother always had a hell of a time getting me out of my room. I was always someone who liked to be inside. Everything I loved to do was more easily done indoors: drawing, reading, writing. Being outside? With other people? That was boring. Or scary if I didn’t know the people.

Like most children of our generation, my brother and I were required to be outside at all times. I think we were supposed to come home from school, have a snack, not burn the house down, watch Sesame Street or the Electric Company, and then go outside and play until we were called in for dinner.

The older I got, the less inclined I was to be either outside or with other kids. The way my Ma tells it, when I was a teenager she asked me if I wanted something while we were at the dinner table and in response I screamed “why can’t everyone just leave me alone!” and then locked myself in my room forever. I don’t remember the episode but cannot deny that I did lock myself in my room for a few decades. I’m exaggerating slightly. Well..actually…it’s probably accurate if I consider it as a cumulative total rather than consecutive years. Anyway, it sounds like something I would have done at fifteen or so, and there is no denying that I did lock myself in my room for a long time.

I’m guessing that I probably also slammed the door and burst into tears. Not necessarily in that order.

What did I gain from it? I started to say “peace” but that’s wrong. Quiet. Solitude. A lack of interaction with anyone but books, notebooks and a sketch pad. I was left alone. I learned to think. Exactly what I wanted.

What I lost was also interaction with anyone but books, notebooks and a sketch pad. I was left alone. I didn’t learn how to act like a human being. Not what i wanted at all. Interesting how that works.

I wonder if I was in my room for as long as Brian Wilson was? It probably doesn’t really count since I always came out for school. In college, I mostly was out of my room. I went back in during the 90’s, and I’ve been out again now for a long time. Did I grow out of it? Did I get better? Maybe. Or maybe I will end up back in there again. It’s not so bad. I have music to listen to and books to read. Words to write. If I got bored, I could knit, weave or carve lino and make prints. There are a lot of things to do in my room.

Sometimes I really want to stay in, but I don’t. Maybe that’s the only difference–just deciding not to.

If I go back in, I’ll let you know.
I could set up a mailing list.