Lay Off My Ego

The grumpiest ego.

I recently did a very brave, heroic, and courageous thing. 

I asked my new landlord if I could paint my walls.

I KNOW. I DESERVE A PURPLE HEART. 

You don’t understand exactly what it took for me to ask that simple question. You see, the lease clearly states that painting the walls is not allowed. However, it never hurts to ask, right? Well, I had several drafts prepared for weeks until deciding that I wasn’t going to ask at all because it wasn’t worth the hassle. Then, he sent me an email about my move-in date and I followed up with a different question but added a quick, “Also, would I be able to paint a wall? I know you just re-painted so it’s OK if not.” 

Since sending it, I have been avoiding my email because I’m so anxious about the response. In a sane state of mind, I know that the worst that can happen is that he says no.  

In my not-so-sane state of mind, I am afraid that he’s going to think that I’m an idiot incapable of reading a lease, or a nuisance, or “one of those tenants” (I don’t even know what means, but I’m afraid of it), or that I’m insulting his paint color choice, or that I’m going to destroy the place or ask for more alterations. Maybe after he decides all that he will rescind the offer and tear up the lease and I’ll be out of luck. 

Basically, it’s not the response I’m afraid of, it’s what I assume he will think of me. It’s purely the idea that someone will think I’m stupid or maybe think less of me, even for just a minute. 

It’s so frustrating because it doesn’t fucking matter. That is life. People make assumptions about who you are based on arbitrary reasons beyond our control. I do it all the time! Sometimes I trust my intuition, and other times a person’s character comes through and proves me wrong. Yet, despite knowing that, I go through life walking on eggshells that I placed on the ground all by myself.

The real cause of all this stress is my damn ego. It’s like the rose in a glass votive from Beauty and the Beast. I agonize over every single petal that falls off because once it dies, I stay a beast! AND WHO COULD EVER LEARN TO LOVE… A BEAST? 

My ego has been running the show my whole life. It’s the reason I quit dancing school when I was 13 because a girl in the class made fun of me. My ego said, “You’re done here. You’ll never be a dancer. Have you seen the way you look in leotards?” 

My ego was the reason I wore baggy clothing from The Gap throughout high school to hide the shape of my body. It said, “Look at all these girls around you with their low-waist jeans and bedazzled Bebe shirts. Don’t even try to look like them, you should just cover yourself up.”

My ego is very happy that high-waist jeans are now in style. It says, “You’re lucky this time… but fashion is cyclable, so be prepared for the return of the low-rise.” 

My ego tells me that if I modify a move during a yoga class, I am weak and lazy. It tells me that I am a bad person because I spend too much money. It tells me that I’m annoying because I get obsessed with random subjects other people don’t care about (like the history of the royal family!) It tells me that I’m single because I am incapable of letting go of the past, or I’m too indecisive and will be alone forever. 

Every day, my ego tells me I’m not good enough, or strong enough, or brave enough, or pretty enough, or anything enough, really. I have so little value that you couldn’t even sell me on Craigslist, I’m just something you’d throw on the curb with a handwritten FREE sign. 

HOWEVER, I am not my ego. The voice inside of my mind is not TRUTH. Eckhart Tolle says, “You do not become good by trying to be good, but by finding the goodness within you and allowing that goodness to emerge.” 

I know that I’m worthy. It’s an impossible task to seek out worthiness from external factors. I can’t decide what my worth is based on other people’s opinions, nevermind assumed opinions. I know who I am, and as long as I’m living by my own values and letting my character emerge - then I am doing it right. 

How does *ALL THIS* connect with the painting email? I worried about my landlord’s opinion of me for asking a question. I can’t control his opinion, but also his opinion is not fact. He could think I’m stupid, silly, annoying, incapable of reading, etc. Yet, I am none of those things. Over time, that will be apparent. But also… who cares if it is or not? 

Other people’s opinions of us are none of our business. It’s a waste of time to worry about them in an attempt to protect our easily bruised egos.

In other news, have you ever wondered what it’s like to live with an anxiety disorder?

By the way, I just checked my email. He said, “Sure, no problem.” 

I need a nap.