Ellen Million (ellenmillion) wrote,
Ellen Million

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When did it become okay to do things wrong? No, that's not quite what I meant... when did it cease to bother me that I *did* things wrong? I used to obsess on being right... I had to do things *right,* the first time, without knowing what I was doing, or I fell into horrible little self-hating pieces.

Somewhere along the way, I've learned that it's okay to do stuff wrong, to be dumb occasionally, to make mistakes and to keep going. I can think about what to do to make things right, having made a boo-boo, without dragging a lot of negative 'I suck-ness' into the picture. Not that I don't care, but it excites me more than anything... I think Jake's rubbing off on me. It's fun to learn, and to say 'this is what I should have done,' without a lot of self-doubt and belief that I must surely be a rotten, worthless human being to have made such an error.

I think I still have a moment of that reaction, but it's a quick one, shortly smooshed by a burning desire to come back from it the *correct* way, and to make up for it, without a lot of negative emotions pulling me down.

I think this may be a breakthrough. I wonder when it happened?

And it doesn't seem to bother me so much anymore when *other* people think I'm horrible based on very limited views of me. That's something else that used to absolutely destroy me, mentally. I wanted to be liked and accepted so badly that having some stranger dislike me, or even think poorly of a single action of mine, was about equal to being stoned.

Perhaps the two are related; once I realized that I didn't have to be right, I liked myself better. And then it didn't matter so much if other people didn't like me. Strange people, I should mention. There are people out there that I admire and respect, and I think that I would be a bit crushed to discover that they disliked me... and I'd want to know why, so that I could evaluate whether or not that was something that I ought to fix about myself.


I would really love to go take a sack lunch out onto my land and sit down on a fallen tree and just think about this for a while. I think there's something important here that deserves some more contemplation.

Instead, I must go draft kitchens. Joy...

Edit: Funny thing about the strangers and not caring if they like me; I still care *about* them. I still care if I may have done something wrong against them, or if I should treat them better, or even if I can do something to brighten some random person's day. I just don't give a flying anything whether or not they care about me back. Maybe I've finally realized that other people *don't* care, as a rule. Which is much bleaker a conclusion than I was hoping to reach.

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