The Asshole In The Mirror

I can’t assess my optimism or demeanor fairly. I have said of myself that I am a positive person, I have also said of myself that, on the spectrum of care-free to intense, I tilt towards the former.

It’s come to my attention, especially recently, that my perception of who I thought I was may not align with how I am perceived by others.

I’m beginning to wonder about this as it relates to reality and truth.

I’ll start with a truth that perhaps I, and those who see me differently can probably all agree on. I have become more of a curmudgeon, and more intense as I have gotten older.

Why admit something like that? Why would I embrace the notion that I am becoming something of a spoilsport; a guy who punches holes in joy?

I’ll tell you why. I’m not punching the holes, I’m just noticing them.

My optimism has in fact grown with me as I’ve matured. It’s still very much alive. It’s alive in the love that I share for my friends and family; it’s alive when I hear an exciting new song, or see a movie that manages to move me; it’s alive when I see people all around me, from different walks of life, ignoring their irrelevant circumstances of birth and embracing one another in the name of joy, sorrow, and everything in between.

And then, of course there’s the tails to that head. The side of me that people don’t want at parties, the side of me that is responsible for having such a small circle of friends, and the side of me that makes dealing with most social interaction an unbearable chore. That’s the side that I’m proud of, because I believe it makes me special.

Here’s the deal. I do think everyone is special, but in order for that to be the case, we all have to be different. If we’re all special, and we can’t identify how, then we’re all special for the same bullshit and then none of us are special.

So yes, you who are reading this (thanks for that by the way). You’re special! Good job! Now figure out why!

For some, it’s obvious. Maybe you’re smart. Lord knows I’m not, and you probably aren’t either. Frankly, I can count on one hand the people I’ve met who I’d actually consider smart. Or maybe you’re creative, again certainly not me, and unfortunately (even though I’m sure you’ve been told otherwise) probably not you. Then there’s the hardworking, the funny, the beautiful etc. The list goes on and on, and I aint on it.

It took me awhile to figure it out, what makes me special, and now that I’m locked in on it, I think I’m ready to be the person I’ve been afraid to be.

I’m an asshole. I know that I am, I know that everyone knows it, I know that people call me it behind my back, and I so damn cool with it, because that’s what makes me special.

Being an asshole is a two-step process. First, you need the wherewithal to notice bullshit. I’ve had that down for quite a bit. You may have it too. But do you say something? Maybe, maybe not. I do. And it’s with that subtle utterance where I set myself apart.

Of course, no wants to hear it. We’re not interested in growing, or hearing about our negatives. We, as a society are currently riding the high self-esteem roller coaster, and guess what? It’s a shitty ride that goes nowhere.

But here I am; the asshole. The man who actually believes in you, and your potential, and respects you enough to tell you when you’re wrong. I claimed that I am optimistic in nature earlier in this post. I stand by that. I expect more from people than they are usually willing to show me. That, my dear reader, and not ceaseless cheer-leading is the truest and most valuable form of optimism. But who wants that?

And that’s what it boils down to, I am a man that is needed, but not wanted.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve forced myself into my current career path.

I’m a social worker who works with children and adolescents who have been sexually abused. Except for the few who know me, and I mean really know me, that has to confuse the hell out of people. 

It make sense, because I want what’s best for people. And the people who come to me are in that unfortunate state of need, and to return to a state where they can simply want is a goal, not necessarily a reality. That means that while I’m not busy stroking everyone else's ego over mediocrity, I’m in my clients' corners yelling and screaming at them to get back in the ring and not drop their right. When I work with a client, they get the straight dope from me. 

Guess what? It’s worked, every time. And I have worked with children who have seen and been through things that you are incredibly lucky to have never experienced.

I am careful with them, I am tactful with them, but we talk about the things that need to be talked about, and we work towards progress.

If they can do it, so can you.

Think my self-assessment is far reaching, inaccurate, and/or inappropriately aggrandizing? Do I just annoy the shit out of you? That’s totally cool and I understand. Let’s both do ourselves a favor and never talk to one another again.

Seriously, life is too damn short. You don’t need to be friends with everyone, you don’t need to like everyone, and you can even hate some people.

To those who still want to spend time with me, wonderful. I’ve been known to, on occasion be a decent guy to have around. I can crack jokes, I can be fun, and for the love of Batman, I’ll fucking care about you.

It’s just this asshole’s way.