I Hate My Shortcomings

It's pretty easy to hate my own shortcomings. I've thought about this so many times, not to count the times I've hoped and prayed I could keep from exhibiting them. Like a fool, I find myself falling into the same pitfalls without realizing my next step will make me tumble. Bad habits and negative learned behaviors flow easily during times I least expect them.

Professionals encourage me to develop behavior modification to correct the core of such problems, but exercises in theory are much easier to accomplish than applying theory in actual practice. As my modified personality strives to near its comfort zone in everyday life, I find myself fighting old personal demons that urge me to be rigid and unchanged.

I know I can be loud, overbearing, and stubbornly unforgiving without intending to be. And, I know I can be consciously selfish and unthoughtful of others. Without placing undue blame for my own negativity, I do realize, normally after the fact, that I have committed the same old

personal affront. The repetition gnaws at others, taking a bigger bite each time I make a display.

I could compare returning to the bad acts to experiencing recurring nightmares, not in dreams but in reality. Excess emotion usually fuels my runaway sensibility until it finally crashes in brief implosion or brief explosion. Then, I am left with asking myself the ultimate question-- Why?

To somehow justify the stupidity of "never learning the lesson," I sometimes try to atone by doing good with my less than attractive traits. For example, I may use my boldness to speak out to talk to someone whom I think would appreciate conversation. Or, I may use my own expertise in thoughtlessness to encourage someone to think less about things they cannot change. But, in the end, this trade off is really a plea for self-gratification-- just another negative behavior.

I do take heart in realizing we all have shortcomings. As imperfect humans, we all struggle with ugly reactions and instability. I have often thought of how much easier life might be if we were playing on the same team, contributing our own individual talents, and relying upon others to diminish our mistakes by "pulling us up" when we commit an error. And, I do believe too many expect all of us to be more than we can possibly be on the field of life.

There is no sermon here about confession and redemption. I am merely stating that when I enter my own "Bermuda Triangle" of lost civility and when my gauges start to give me weird, false readings, I do lose control. Why would anyone fly into these same dangerous conditions again and again? I don't know. Maybe I think this time some learned behavior will pull me through, but I most often still spiral into the sea.

These are the blues for the repeat offender. The crimes I commit may not be of the same magnitude as the seasoned criminal's, yet who am I to judge? I hate my own shortcomings.

As I grow older, I realize more about my own shortcomings. But, it seems I never learn.

Half of my mistakes, I made stone-cold sober

Half of my mistakes, I made at closing time

Half the time, I never saw it coming till it was over

Oh, half of my mistakes, I've made with love on the line

Half of my mistakes, I swear, I shoulda known better

Half of my mistakes, were just amongst friends

You get a little distance on it, the truth is clearer

Oh, half of my mistakes, I'd probably make 'em again

Thanks to Radney Foster and Bobby Houck, Writers