I’ve had to let go of resentments that aren’t in my best interest. I’m not sure any resentment is ever in my best interest. What’re those sayings? Resentments are like taking poison and waiting for your enemy to die? Or like peeing on your own leg–no one feels it but you?
Two years ago I was turned down for a graduate education program, a blessing in disguise. I’ve been told my whole life that I look like a school teacher, but I do not, repeat, do not have the skills or temperament. It’s a case of wanting to want.
I want to want to be a teacher. I think I should. I shouldn’t. Really. I shouldn’t. But I forget.
I wasted a week in anger this past month trying to force the admissions office to tell me why they rejected me, two years ago. I went on a wild goose chase to a handful of different officials, each one pointing me towards someone else until I was back where I started.
I got aggressive and sarcastic.
They stopped returning my emails.
What was that all about? I’m in a graduate program for something I love.
I want control.
I’m not working, my life is in flux & the need for control rears it’s ugly head. Big time.
I think I need to know everything, need to run every show.
When I was as kid and the phone rang, I’d race to get it. Frequently, my dad beat me to it. Afterwards when I asked, he wouldn’t tell me who it’d been. He did that too, on family outings. I’d be told only to get my coat, but not where we were going. Drenched in the cold sweat of my absolute powerlessness, drowning in the fear and panic of having no control over where I was going, those trips were excruciating. It didn’t happen every time, just often enough.
I don’t know if he withheld this arbitrary information out of petty meanness or he thought it was funny, if it fed his need for control or if he was simply trying to teach me to chillax and overcome the obsessive need I had to control something, anything, everything. Probably some combo platter, but it felt mean.
I still struggle with needing to know everything & having to run the show. Really, I need to accept that I’m never even going to know most things and the “show” generally runs perfectly well without my help.
I got an email last week. Graduate applications are destroyed after that particular semester begins. I spent all that time and energy, all that anger, trying to force people to look at something that no longer exists.
Everything in life is a lesson. Everything. The best I can hope for is to get the lesson the first time so I don’t have to keep replaying the same tapes, four times, five times and on and on.
This was not my first lesson about powerlessness and resentment, but it only lasted a week, so it I’m down to the Cliff Notes versions, rather than the Encyclopedia Britannica.
