I realized today that I have allowed myself to believe in frustration. It is as if a well-dressed man with a nifty briefcase knocked on my door and asked very politely if he could come in and ruin my life.
He seemed so rational, so sure of himself, that I let him in to my sacred inner life.
As it happens, he had a very impressive book that he had prepared for me which explained why it was logical and right for me to live in a near constant state of frustration.
He sat down beside me, laid the book on the table, and turned to page 1. The heading on this page was: “Why Vicki Deserves to Feel Frustrated.”
I won’t go into detail, but basically the man showed me why I was completely right and the people I was frustrated with were completely wrong. He showed me how unfair it was that my technological supports kept breaking. I was, in short, completely justified in feeling frustrated. Completely.
Well, isn’t that just wonderful!
The problem is that feeling frustrated has been stealing my joy. Yes, I was certainly right and justified, but I was also not having much fun. Even the things I usually enjoy doing, such as writing essays like this, I wasn’t enjoying because of this backlog of frustration I had allowed to build up in my body.
I had actually made the mistake of taking frustration seriously! I know better than this!
When I’m riding with someone in a car, and we pull up to a busy intersection, I listen with serenity as the driver says, “We’ll never get into this traffic!”
When I hear this remark, I start counting. I never even get past 30 before “never” turns out to be possible after all. We do get into the traffic. The driver believed in frustration, but I knew better.
I am now building a business, and I am taking this building of my new business seriously. And taking this business-building seriously left a crack in my sanity that allowed Mr. Frustration to get inside my head and wreak havoc.
Well, Mr. Frustration, you are fired! The next time you come to my door and invite me to feel frustrated, I’m going to figure out a way to have fun with the situation instead. And you better believe I’m good at it and I will succeed! You are doomed, Mr. Frustration! I have unmasked you and I will never invite you into my sacred inner life again.
The End – for now anyway.