(Man, I just keep coming up with them.)
I suppose this is the sort of thing that I would've figured out about 20 years ago if I'd ever bothered with therapy, but -- for the first time in my life -- two thoughts which probably should have been put together all along finally found themselves in each other's neighborhood.
Thought One: I did not have a really good time in Fifth Grade. I was the youngest person in my class by a lot (thanks to being born in the summer and skipping a grade) and, given that my athletic abilities are generally at the low end of my age-range to begin with, I pretty much sucked on the playground. Was downright awful compared to my classmates. Seemed that everyday, our class would find ourselves playing handball. (The Elementary School version with only one wall.) We played on a rotating basis where the winner stayed in, so I inevitably ended up playing against one of the two best kids in the class -- who would defeat me soundly with a few aces in a row, call me names, make me cry, and then call me more names based on making me cry. It never ended well.
(By that point in time, I had decided to become a lawyer when I grew up. I very much looked forward to one day seeing those bullies on the other side of "will the defendant please rise?")
Thought Two: I try to avoid playing games unless I have a reasonable chance of winning.
Seriously, you'd think I would have hit upon the obvious causal connection here fairly early on, but I missed it completely -- just thought that I hate to lose because, really, who likes to? But, having figured this out, I've actually started doing something about it -- you know, like telling myself that when you're playing with friends, losing is no big deal, and that the fun is in the game itself. Intellectually, I've known this all along, but subconsciously, I think I might have needed reminding.
(Man, the human psyche is a weird and wonderful place.)
1 comment:
Are you sure you haven't been doubling doses of NyQuil? Your epiphanies sound like the kind of stuff I'd come up (or down) with while consuming my nightly quart of bourbon 30 years ago...
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