What Happens During a Brain Remodel?

I was writing a blog that turned into two blogs. I kept editing and editing. And the more I edited the more I hated all of it and wanted to throw it away. I hate my writing fairly regularly, sometimes my hatred is valid, sometimes it's not. This time I think it was valid and I'll tell you why, but first I want to tell you about being nine or seven or whatever.

When I was seven I got a diary for Christmas. This diary was perfumed and pretty. It had a lock and a ribbon bookmark. I started writing in it right away. I wrote in that journal until I was ten. 

Several years ago I found that journal and started reading it. Some entries were funny, some were boring, some were heartfelt. It was nice hearing my little girl voice from those pages but after several entries, I noticed an angry undercurrent running through it. I couldn't finish the journal before reading became too unpleasant and I set it down. 

Because I was a kid and I didn't know any different, I didn't recognize my own anger. I only saw it as an adult looking back. 

Over the years, there have been times when I noticed my own unpleasant tendencies, only to brush over them and keep walking. As I wrote and edited these last two blogs, once again I became aware of some traits I really don't like about myself and it's time I started talking about them because they're bothering me.

I am desperate to be nice. I must be liked. I have become a people pleaser and I fawn over others to get them to like me. But I am also angry and critical. So I position myself to seem superior, but in a non-threatening, likable way. I am funny and charming in my bitterness. I can be cruel, but I'm adept at dismantling a "villain" so the audience sees me as just and merciful in my victimhood. I love being the victim. That is my favorite role. 

As a victim I am justified in my anger. I am very good at being helpless and in need of defense. My cruelty gets a pass. They deserved it. Oh yeah, and everyone is an idiot except me and I can prove it by comparing and contrasting my wit against their shortcomings. 

The stories of my life contained whirlpools of dumbasses and villains, with me at the center, the helpless heroine/victim. I was good in this role and I believed in these stories. 

But as I edited these last two blogs I thought, I'm just complaining and blaming and I don't want to do that anymore. 

Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of room in this world for complaining. I don't plan on living my life refusing to acknowledge valid problems, but the victimhood has to go. It's not a good look and it keeps me limited. 

So those blogs are going in the garbage and I give you this one where I am the villain and the victim and the heroine. It will take time to figure out what other roles there are for me.