Coming to terms with myself: miscellany

There are plenty of other things that I’m trying to come to terms with myself about.  Don’t get me wrong—I’m trying to be careful that I work towards changing the things that I can and should try to change.  But some things have been with me for so long that I am sort of (or all the way) giving up hope:

I do NOT follow schedules well.  Though I’ve been listening to a book on CD called The Power of Less that gives me hope that I may partially be able to overcome this.  Only partially, though, and only if I am absolutely firm with myself.  And I mean absolutely.

In a similar vein, I’m very disorganized.  Almost spectacularly.  I am redeemed from being flat out spectacularly disorganized by random pockets of organization in my life.  Such as my tupperware drawer, which is a (surprising) model of organization.  And my digital picture files also.  Hopefully the Power of Less can help me with this as well, though I will have to stay home for more than a week or two at a time in order for that to happen.

Speaking of staying home:  I like to travel.  I really like it.  I’d rather spend my money on a fun (mostly cheap) trip somewhere than on a thing, I’ve come to realize.  I’ve already done a nice bit of travelling as part of my 2014 plan to combat seasonal depression.  It’s working, and I’ve still got great trips ahead!

I need lots of sleep.  Lots.  And lots.  And then some more.  I blame my parents for this.  This is what happens when a person with high sleep needs marries another person with high sleep needs.  It’s like high sleep needs squared.

I am super sensitive.  And I really hate that about myself.  I heard someone say once that they were never offended by anything.  I was so envious.  I eventually decided that there is an upside to the downside of my sensitivity, and that is that I am generally sensitive of other people’s feelings as well.  (No, please don’t email me all at once to tell me if I’ve not been sensitive about your feelings.  Because it will hurt my feelings.)

I eat slow.  And I mean SLOW.  Like I can have been eating for 5 minutes before Russ gets to the table, and I will still be eating for 15 minutes after he’s done.  (He eats remarkably fast.  But I’m not going to talk about that, because this is about me, and not him.)  I appreciate all of the people over my lifetime who have been held captive by my slow eating.  I appreciate them hanging out and sticking around and talking to me while I chew.  Seriously.

I’m a navel gazer.  There.  I’ve admitted it.  Not literally, of course.  (Although from time to time my belly button does get irritated and then requires some literal gazing, which is always really awkward.)  I’m more of a metaphorical naval gazer.  I’m intrigued by what’s going on inside of my head and why, and I’m just as interested in what’s going on in your head too.  So let’s talk.  About our navels. 

I’m bad at change.  Really bad.  Super bad.  Spectacularly bad, as it were.  Especially in cases when I’ve convinced myself that change would never occur, and yet it did.  I mourn what is lost and work on it and mourn and work on it some more.  And yet the fact remains.  I am BAD at change.

 

S0 there you have it.  A lovely listing of some of the things I love to hate about myself.  That I am working on coming to terms with.  I’m sure that given 2 or 3 minutes I’ll think of a couple more.  In fact in the time it took to press “publish” and wait for the browser to open a new window showing this post, I thought of another one two three.   Here’s to learning to accept myself for who I really am, (sleepy) warts and all!