Well, I'm getting happier all the time. Which is very nice. – Ringo Starr
Meanwhile, I started to feel a little like Ringo. Parading in the background, never getting the ladies, writing songs about octopi. And my immediate reaction to all the excitement is to retreat to my self-pity cave, because none of it is happening to me. This retreat starts a cycle of inactivity, isolation, and escapism that doesn't end until some external force boosts my confidence again.
This past month, however, I was able to recognize the Ringoisms early on, and I decided to do something about it. I channeled the energy I would have spent on listing out reasons why I'm inadequate into celebrating my coworkers and loved ones. I planned parties, organized gifts, rallied, and raved. Usually, my self pity clouds any attempt at genuine happiness. For the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely happy for another person's accomplishments, and let myself revel in their successes.
This space of compassion fills my limbs with a glow. It feels so much better than the cold I let reign.