I'm a Party Animal . . .

. . .a pity party animal that is. I complain. A lot. Even things that I tend to miss when I don’t have to do them, become fodder for my complaining spirit. There’s a negative spin that can be put on everything. It’s all too easy to do. Instead of being thankful I can afford school, I complain about having to attend. Instead of being happy that I don’t have to go away to college, I lament the troubles of living with your parents and having to follow their (not at all strict) rules. Instead of rejoicing in the fact that I even have a boyfriend, I bemoan the fact that I only get to see him about every four weeks. Complain, complain, complain.

The problem is that while I identified this as a flaw in my character, I don’t know how to address it. I don’t do it consciously. It’s not like a start everyday thinking, “now how can I make this the worst day ever?” It just happens. And when I notice it, I try to spin it back to the positive. But sometimes I don’t notice until much later, too much later to backtrack and put a positive spin on the words I’ve already spilled for others to hear. I hate listening to people complain. I’m the first one to point out the positives in their life so that they can stop feeling sorry for themselves. But I can’t seem to do this for myself.

When I have so much to be thankful for, why do I allow myself to complain about the trivial? Sometimes when I write, the process of “getting it out” leads me to an answer. Not this time. I don’t know how yet, but this has got to stop.

Keep on singing,