Integrity (Friends Who Call Me Out On My Bullshit)

I just deleted a lengthy body of freshly written text because I knew what I was writing lacked integrity.

Forty-two days ago, I made a commitment to myself to to blog on the subject of gratitude every single day for 365 days.

Yesterday, I decided to veer from that path.

I had been feeling as if the gratitude theme wasn’t satisfying my creative needs, so I announced I would expand my blog to include anything I felt like writing about, starting with stories I made up about strangers I encountered.

But when I asked my friend if she thought it would be alright for me to only post every other day, I knew it was a poor decision.

“I just feel like I’d rather use that time to work on my book,” I said. “The blog posts take so much time and I get to bed so late because it’s based on my day.”

Immediately, she gave me the upset mother look her future children are sure to fear, and she called me out on my bullshit.

“You always do this,” she said.

She was right.

I’m one of those people who gets wide-eyed and dreamy about every new possibility. Easily excited, new ideas consume me. Unfortunately, once the novelty wears off, it gets increasingly difficult for me to maintain my initial level of excitement.

It’s a classic ADHD symptom (no, really, Dr. Amen’s brain scans prove it) and it really bothers me.

You see, my hardwiring is different than most. I feel so much excitement and see so many possibilities all at once that I have a hard time recognizing my enthusiasm as unsustainable.

Unlike a “normal” brain, the activity in my frontal lobe decreases when I try to concentrate on something I’m not interested in — the exact opposite of what it should do.

This cycle of over-excitement followed by under-excitement often leads me to make a lot of commitments I won’t keep — commitments like the one I made to myself to blog about gratitude for 365 days straight.

“I’m more than 10 percent done,” I offered in my defense.

“But 10 percent isn’t done,” she said.

Damn. She got me there.

Blabbering on about ADHD, I explained to her which of the seven types of ADD I have. I told her how Dr. Amen’s brain scan studies have helped me to realize my brain imbalance is to blame for the qualities I’ve lost self-confidence over. I suddenly found myself fighting off tears.

Saddened by my dismal expression, she asked, “How do you think people view you?”

“Like an unreliable flake,” I frowned. “That’s why I’m excited about this healthy brain diet. It’s going to help!”

“But are you actually going to do the diet?” she asked. “Or when I see you next week are you not going to be doing it anymore?”

“No, I’m going to do it,” I said confidently, though inside I was already questioning my will power.

Sharing a story about how her father made her stay in high school color guard even though she wasn’t getting enough sleep because she got home from practice at 10:30 p.m. and still had to do her homework, she said his motto was “You start it, you finish it.”

My parents didn’t make me finish extracurriculars, I thought. I quit a lot of stuff growing up.

“If you feel the gratitude is stifling your creativity, then make the change,” she said. “But keep it in mind that you always do this.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I made a commitment to 365 days of gratitude so I’m going to do it.”

It’s a difficult pill to swallow, but I’m throwing it in my mouth and washing it down with water: I lack integrity.

A flake’s word means very little and I want my word to mean a lot. So today, I am restoring my integrity and pushing onward with my original plan to write about gratitude for 365 consecutive days.

I’m so glad I have someone in my life who cares about me enough to call me out on my bullshit.

Follow the Happy Chaos Daily Gratitude blog for 365 days of obscure gratitude!