I was told early this week that I was too negative. As much as I wanted to jump on the defensive bandwagon (and did just a bit), I sat and thought about that. I thought about all the times I bad mouthed work, of the times I bad mouth myself (my hair, my body, my skin) and I realized: I am making myself unhappy. What used to be just common venting, turned into full fledged complaining and I'm not happy with that. Recently, I cut out a person in my life becuase of the unwanted criticism and negativity I felt from her. She made me feel bad about myself and my choices. Sure, I should just buck up and tell her to shut up, but I'm not that person. I can take criticism, and I can take opinions, when they are handed to me in a specific sort of way. Most people know how to give it to me and I hope that I know how to give it appropriately back. So lately I've been thinking a lot about this, especially now living alone again. I don't have tv I watch religiously any more (just those few shows and I watch them online when I can), I don't have internet at home and I don't have anyone to distract me anymore, I'm just alone with my own thoughts. "You're too negative" is what I kept thinking to myself. And it's true. I don't want to be, I want to be a positive person. Of course, I don't want to over do it, but I do want to be the person people can turn to, who enjoy being around because she's not a downer or a complainer. Of course, I will vent, but I need to tread the fine line between venting and complaining.
This I started Tuesday. Life is to short to constantly be unhappy. Nothing is wrong: I have my health, as does my family, I have a job whereas many don't, I have a partner who loves me, I live in the area of my dreams, why am I not happy? Because I create my own happiness. So that's what I'm striving to do: I want to create my happiness. Even though I've not seen the world, made a million bucks or discovered the cure for cancer, I can still be happy with who I am, who I'm with, what and how I choose to lead my life. Which begs another question:
So, who am I?
That will be for another time . . .