My father did not teach me how to shave and be a man.
Poor me.
My father did not show me how to approach a woman and me a man.
Poor me.
My family is a mess and dysfunctional.
Poor me.
I am skinny and dark and women would never find me attractive.
Poor me.
I lack confidence and unable to string 5 words together.
Poor me.
The biggest lesson I have learned in the last several years is to shut the hell up and stop making excuses. Poor me?
I can get plenty of people to feel sorry for me. They would then tell me I am such a great man with so much to give.
It would be a pity-full and I guess it would be true. But what does that ultimately do for me? Not a damn thing.
Take responsibility! I refuse to be a victim. (Unless of course I am a “victim” of a crime of some sort.)
But in life, I decided to take control. Even in the most painful moments of my life, I was not a victim. I was a participant. I was in control. In control of myself and my behavior. In those instances I chose to be involved.
In terms of my weaknesses, well I can choose to work on them and make them strengths.
“If you accept responsibility, you are in a position to do something about it” – Paul Arden
And damn that hurts so much sometimes. I want some pity. I suppose that is not a bad thing in small portions. It is when I need it regularly that it becomes my only way to feel validated.
Now that I find myself consistently accepting responsibility for my actions and situations I find it hard to watch most people blame the world for their all their circumstances.
I never realized just how much we looked for pity and wanted to blame the world.
The world, illegal immigrants, the government, women, men, gays, politicians, the pope, our parents, the weather, the man, ex-wife, …
Yet the whole time the person with the most power in our lives stares at us in the mirror.
