Apples to Apples, Dust to Dust

My house is dusty as holy heck.  There was a swear there, but I took it out because I swear too much.  It's dusty, and we just moved in.  Where does the dust come from?  What does it want from me?  Sometimes I like to write messages in it and see how long they last- some have reached heiroglyph status.  I don't know how to spell heiroglyph, which is pathetic if you consider that I have a degree in archaeology. I have dusty furniture, and a degree in archaeology that I've never used.  And an unfinished MA in archaeology, if you want to get really depressing.  And I'm not athletic.  Or crafty.  I'm just a little bit flabby.  Sometimes I go months without touching my eyebrows.  There's a rather large gecko in my closet.  Etc.

What is my point?  That I like to whine?  That's true, I also whine way too much, and I have nothing to whine about.  I have no idea what to do with my life.  I have no skills and no talent.  And so on, and so forth.

These thoughts have consumed me lately- and basically paralyzed me.  I don't hate myself per se.  I think I'm reasonably intelligent, and I know that I am a "good" person- whatever the hell that means.  I know if I tripped an old man, I'd help him get up.  It's been eons since I punched a baby.  But I don't LIKE myself, and that's a huge problem.

I took my kids to a very large playgroup at a church yesterday- think 75 kids.  As we walked around, I was practically vomiting from self-consciousness.  I was standing weird, or staring at something, or thinking that maybe I just stole this chair from someone and now everyone is talking about how much they hate me.  UGH.  But what about all of the other women there?  Were they awkward too?  Of course not- they were all amazing.

One lady had just come from the gym, and looked so athletic.  One was helping the little kids with crafts and was just so friendly.  One had the prettiest red curly hair.  Another one was clearly giving very thoughtful advice to her friend.  They were all just so amazing.  Then there was me- awkward, slightly fat, spit up stained, one unshaven leg ME.  A total mess, with all of the aforementioned flaws, plus 9,000 others.  Why am I such a disaster and everyone else is so amazing?

The answer, of course, is that they are not amazing.  Or maybe they are.  Who knows.  They could be terrible human beings.  But for whatever reason, the first thing I look for in THEM is the good.  The first thing and only thing I look for in ME is the bad.  I would never look at someone and think they are fat, or messy, or loud.  I don't go over to someone's house and decide that they are a bad person because their TV is dusty.  So why do I think those things about myself?  Why do I compare myself to some mystical version of myself that has never existed?  The Mary-Ellen that carries a unicorn while running a marathon through a field of four leaf clovers?  The non federally imprisoned Martha Stewart Mary-Ellen?  Those people don't exist.

Someday, I will start giving myself the benefit of the doubt and stop comparing myself to people I know nothing about.  People who are probably just as self conscious as I am.  People who could be serial killers, but MAN, they have some nice shoes on today!  Somewhere, in a women's prison camp, there is probably someone saying "Wow, I really wish I was just like Mary-Ellen!  She has it all."  And that crazy, hooch-drinking former prostitute is right!  I do have it all.  But that jumpsuit does wonders for her complexion.  I wish I had a nice complexion like that.  DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!