Here's lookin' atcha!
You might get a little bitchy after you read this (I hope)...
Poor me. I just can’t seem to get what I want. Things just don’t work out for me. I've had this consistent run of bad luck. I try and I try. Still, it seems God/Spirit/Jesus/Allah/Fate/The World has it in for me. What the hell did I ever do to deserve all this mess?? Then, I read all the self-help and spiritual crap and they promise all the goodies. (Some don’t; they tell me material prosperity is a bad thing. Screw them. I want the material stuff anyway.) I do affirmations and I visualize a little. I pray and pray, meditate and chant mantras. Still no change. Then the economy takes a nosedive, the weather is awful, people are rude, traffic is, well, traffic. There doesn’t seem to be any way out. I’m too fat; too sore; too scared, too ugly, to old. (Too lazy?)
Blah, blah, blah.
I call the above whiny, complainy garbage The Velcro Effect. It’s like you have this patch of Velcro on your forehead and the connector on the back of your hand. Every time some little thing goes wrong, up goes the hand, connects to the Velcro, and you walk around in a state of self-pity for all to see. And you actually think you are justified.
Here’s a powerful quote from that wonderful author A. Nonymous (He/she writes a lot!) that should put you in your place:
“People do not decide their future. They decide their habits and their habits decide their future.”
And Ron Rubin, in his great little book, Dragon Spirit, says, “The difference between success and failure is the difference between a strong will and a strong won’t.”
The Velcro Effect (or more correctly, The Self-Pity Party Syndrome) is the number one separator between you and your best life. It’s a nasty, nasty habit. And you keep hanging onto it because it has served you oh so well lo, these many years. You take a certain (perverse) pleasure in it. But of course, you would never admit that, right?
Either break the Velcro Effect habit or shut up. In fact, do both. You’ll do yourself a world of good and spare the rest of us your constant “Woe is me” stories that make us want to kick you in your private places. You think we actually feel sorry for you? Wrong. Most of us are feeling sorry for ourselves.