Failure -or- The Art of Sucking Shit

It’s funny in a not so funny way how my previous post was all about what a difference my friend JJ made in my world and now this post is about life without JJ and as you can tell by the title – it’s not a happy, warm and fuzzy post.

I have said before that I am a recovering perfectionist and that’s mostly true; to say that I am recovering would imply that I have had a measure of success in being ok with failure, in one form or another or at the very least, substandard (or imperfect) results/behaviors, etc. No, I am not ok with it. Never have, never will be. I know I can’t be perfect but that hasn’t stopped me from trying my entire life and failing. Failing to be perfect. Failing to be able to anticipate everyone’s need, be at their beck and call, ready with that Eager Beaver expression that just screams – “I live to serve and will be the Best Person/Employee/Friend/Patient/Co-worker you could ever imagine!” Failing to be happy when I feel angry, failing to feel grateful for a job that pays very well and sucks only a tiny bit of my soul away each day; failure to Dumb Down enough so that the glaringly obvious wrongs don’t make me want to seek out the perpetrator and inflict physical harm upon their sorry ass. Failure to BE PART OF THE ______ (fill in the blank) EXPERIENCE. Failure to comply, failure to assimilate, failure to meet expectations I don’t even know exist, failure to act like I’m not bored to tears when I have to sit another hour, listening to assholes with egos talk nonsense and try to one-up the ones who are actually intelligent and thus, silent.

I guess JJ helped me a lot more than I realized; I can’t walk down the halls without looking for him; I can’t deal with the level of shit running through my head and I can’t be perfect. Oh – and I can’t drink. Ain’t that a bitch? Who doesn’t love a nice drink of (fill in the blank) at the end of a tough day/morning/afternoon? I love them at any time of day and the more the better.

So, there it is. The crux of this uncomfortable feeling in my head; failure is what awakens my little drinking monster (I like to refer to it as The Crackin’ as in, let’s get crackin’ and have some drinks already!!!) and then it just won’t shut up. The only things that will make it quiet down and go back to sleep are rehab and/or AA meetings (the more, the better) so that’s where I’m taking my loser ass right now (AA, not rehab).

One (fucking) day at a time, right??

One thought on “Failure -or- The Art of Sucking Shit

  1. I fucking hate to fail too, however, it is a necessary part of growth. You, my friend, are a success and you are loved. ❤

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