I wear cranky pants.
A lot. And a lot of the time.
Things irritate me a lot. And a lot of the time. I could tell you it’s ‘righteous anger’, which sometimes it is, I DO get my soap box and my very cranky pants out for injustice. In a big way. But honestly, sometimes people and situations(and traffic and cold tea and my unmade bed and a cloudy sky) can just tick me right off.
I’m ‘melancholy creative’ according to the layman’s terms of my personality test, with an IQ of 144 according to the not-so-layman terms of my IQ test. I have the paperwork that tells me these things, but I don’t even know what that MEANS. And that irritates me further. I don’t like feeling stupid. It’s one of my big IRKS.
So I get ‘stabby’. A lot. And then all I want to do is set my hair on fire and put it out with a hammer(it’s the grown up version of a tantrum). Or, even, in all honesty, someone else’s hair. Usually the person I blame for my state of stabbiness at that moment in time… because OBVIOUSLY it’s someone else’s fault. Yeah? Anybody?
So I usually default to THE CRY. I know. Fabulous response. It’s a big ‘no-no’ in grown up land. BUT I DO IT ANYWAY. I cry. Usually out of sheer rebellion. And I like it. It makes me feel better. I give myself space to feel what I’m feeling, and – I’m slowly learning – a TIME LIMIT on the wallowing permitted.
I make myself go and do something for someone else. It’s usually HARD. BUT THAT’S THE POINT. I want to turn the tables. Shift my focus. Adjust my perspective. And the reality is, someone else will always be in a more needy place than me. Truly. I don’t even have to usually look far.
It’s uber hard. And simultaneously ridiculously easy. Sometimes I’ll HAND write a note for someone. Woah. There’s a blast from the past. I tell ya – people LOVE a handwritten note. I’ll CALL a friend JUST TO ENCOURAGE THEM. Help a mum carry a pram across a street. GIVE A HOMELESS PERSON SOME CASH(and no, I don’t think about what they’ll do with it, I just friggin do it.) I randomly pay for people’s petrol, and groceries, and it FREAKS THEM RIGHT OUT. I compliment mums on their parenting skills, and I tell older couples holding hands in the park that I’m inspired by their obvious love for each other…
There’s always something I can say, or do.
I love it. And it INSTANTLY changes ME.
Selfish? Probably. Because my intrinsic motivation is ultimately to adjust my focus so that I am not wallowing in my chaos and angst. BUT then it helps others too. So frankly I don’t give a rats whether it starts out as selfish or not.
I reckon it ends as a win all round. And I like to win.