3 Reasons I’m a Jerk

It’s 100% My Fault

Every once in a while, I wake up and I am a total ass.

I am mean to myself.

I snap at my kids for no apparent reason. Then I tell my spouse how much I don’t like him or grumble at all the things he did (or didn’t do) in the morning.

I am really awesome when I act like this.
Totally. I’m a great person.

When I was a heavy drinker, I pretty much spent my life in a cycle of self-loathing, drinking and repeat. Despite also becoming a triathlete, a successful author and writer, I was still in this awful cycle of mean — mean to myself, mean to others, and crabby, sad and depressed.

I hated it. I hated myself.

Now, I am almost two years a sober-Sally. I will tell you that quitting the booze was the single-greatest gift I had ever given myself, but it didn’t fix the problems.

Addicts use drugs, alcohol, porn and a variety of other addictions for a reason. To an addict, we scoff when someone points that the reason is because we lack will-power or control. That statement is hilarious to us because most of us are quite productive, successful, and we look great on paper.

Lack of willpower, control and success? Well, it’s quite the opposite, actually.

People feed their addictions when they feel unworthy. People act like dickwads when they feel that they are unloved — or worse — unworthy of love. We may be loved as much as humanly possible, but if we feel that we don’t deserve the love? Well, then we cope in some way.

I may not drink now, but that didn’t make the feelings of unworthiness disappear. Working on solving an addiction doesn’t strike-through the cause of the addiction in the first place.

So, despite making great strides in my life, every once in a while I wake up and I hate the world. An hour or so later, I usually shake out of it, but I often leave a trail of destruction, even small destruction, in my wake.

I have uncovered three reasons why I sometimes wake up and I am a total ass to the world.

Maybe you don’t struggle with this. Maybe it really is just me. (In that case, I’ll present you with a medal at the end of this piece.)

1. I Forget What I Know

I am a Jerk because I forget what I know.

For my son’s birthday, he received a bearded dragon lizard. James, age 9, was thrilled about it — until the lizard crawled up his arm. At that point, he lost his mind with fear.

The next morning, James left for school without hardly a look in the lizard’s direction.

I looked at Matthew (yes, that’s the lizard’s name), and thought, I just don’t know if I can do this. I looked at the pet store’s return policy. (These lizards grow two feet long and live for ten years, by the way.) I was not going to spend ten years with a giant lizard who scares me, peering at me from his perch near my desk. Something had to be done.

I had less than two weeks to make this lizard the love of our lives.

I looked sideways at Matthew. “Okay, Matthew. We have to make this happen. Time to love you.”

The next evening, I gave James a new book about bearded dragons.

I said, “Let’s just see what we can learn about Matthew.”

He looked at me. “Okay,” he said.

* * *

The next day, James walked in from school, and declared, “I have learned a lot about bearded dragons.”

He gave Matthew a slight glance, and walked out.

Later that night, at bedtime, I asked James, “Okay. So what do we know about Matthew?”

James thought for a minute, “He’s a baby.”

“Yes,” I said. “What else?”

“He’s a reptile, so he likes our necks because he likes to be warm. To help him regulate his body temperature because he’s cold-blooded.”

“Very cool,” I said.

And he continued to tell me facts about Matthew: what they like to eat, how long they live, how to travel with them. He has read the whole book in a day. And at the end of our convo, we had come to the conclusion that Matthew was pretty okay, and that tomorrow, he (James) would try to hold him (Matthew the Lizard) again.

The next day, James, armed with his facts in his mind, held out his shoulder and allowed me to put Matthew on it.

Three seconds, he’s trembling. “No, Mom. Take him.”

“Okay, buddy.”

That night, we went over what we knew again. “Matthew is a baby. He does not bite. He loves crickets. He likes to be warm…”

The next day, I hung out with Matthew all day. We were cool. He was adorable and I officially loved the stupid lizard.

I created him an Instagram account (@matthewthelizard), because why not make a lizard have a personality. I faced my fear and prickles, and I was able to like him. It worked.

By this time, I declared lizard ownership as a lesson in resilience.

Bearded Dragons are the gateway for big things like Tony Robbins seminars and skydiving.

On Day 6, James and I go over some more facts, and he said, “Okay Mom, I am ready. Let’s do this.”

James nods. He gulps, and he takes Matthew and places him on his shoulder.

Matthew goes straight for James’ warm little neck. James cringes, slightly. But he takes a deep breath, and says, “Matthew is a baby. He wants to be warm.” Fact. Fact. Fact.

After five or so minutes, James was good for the night. “He’s okay, Mom, but let’s put him away.”

And so we proceeded over the next few days. And eventually, James lost the fear. Now, a year later. Matthew is amazing and cool and everyone loves him.

So why this long story about a lizard?

Well, sometimes when I wake up like a shithead, it’s beacause that I have forgotten what is true.

I have forgotten the FACTS of my life.

For example: I am alive, healthy, breathing. I can workout. I can eat pizza. I can eat TWO pizzas if I want to. I have a lizard. I have coffee.

And most importantly, I am loved. Not all the time, and not every second, but someone in the world loves me some time. (Even if it’s just the lizard.)

When I look at the facts of me, the facts of my existence, I realize that I have so much to appreciate, to revel in, to love.

I am a total jerk when I forget or fail to do that.

Looking at the Facts of my Life is an exercise that results in total jerk repellent.

2. I Rush Through My Morning without Gratitude

The Jerk appears if I start my morning without gratitude.

This is a new practice for me — morning gratitude — but it’s got some teeth.

I used to wake up hung-over and angry. Hard to be grateful for anything except a cheesy breakfast sandwich when that’s the morning story that’s happening.

But now, I don’t have that excuse.

Starting my morning with gratitude is the antidote to being a Jerk. When I forget to a wake up and be grateful, the Jerk emerges.

Simple, but true.

When I think about the path that I’ve taken over the last 7 years: first came exercise/movement, then food, then (tackling the) alcohol, then food again, and now, this whole mindfulness thing.

I thought I was headed on a good trajectory with mindfulness in the spring.

Then I hit a “People Speed-Bump.”

[My term: People Speed-Bump (PSB) means when you are traveling along, smoothly, with a person in your life, and then BUMP! There it is. A total surprise in character.]

A People Speed-Bump happened with a person who had love for meditation.

So meditation and I became something like when people quit going to church because someone in the congregation screws up everything.

It doesn’t mean that God is bad.
It doesn’t mean that God is flawed.
It means that people are flawed. [A People Speed-Bump can screw up everything, though, if we let it.]

Translation: you can’t abandon the fellowship because one person is a total asshole.

(Am I the first person to use the word asshole and church in the same thought bubble? Hmmmm.)

Anyway, that was a revelation for me.

I quit the church member. I have not quit God.
I quit the person who suggested meditation. I will not dismiss mindfulness and meditation as a practice.

I think there are many ways to stay positive and engaged in our lives even when others around us have disappointed us and created gaping crevasses in our lives we don’t know how we will recover.

The interesting thing is, time pretty much does heal everything.

Our lives at any given moment is about perspective and what we think is actually going on. It’s the story that we tell ourselves at the end of the day that really matters. I’m not necessarily sure it’s even the truth anymore.

The truth is one thing. The truth will certainly set you free.

But truth only matters to your life and your well-being if you actually believe the true story.

For the longest time, I believed (core values type stuff) that I would never be a good version of myself. I really believed that I could not be fitter or happier or more joyful. I still struggle with all these things on a daily basis.

Last week, I was such a crab to my family and I’m not sure why they still love me. At the same time, I have tremendous hope and joy, because I’ve chosen to re-write my story, and to decide things aren’t fatal, that I can work and try harder, be better. Every. Single. Day.

I’ve also decided to ask myself the truth, and what the truth means. And then use the truth as a starting point–not the lies.

3. I Ate Crap the Day Before

This was an unexpected point, but it might have the most weight. Pun intended.

I call it a food hangover. Since I no longer drink, I find that I can still give myself a massive dose of food regret when I dont’ take care of myself the day before.

I wake up feeling terrible. When one doesn’t feel well, one doesn’t act nice.

A big part of not being a jerk the next day from eating crappy nutrition rolls back to points 1 and 2, above. I have to acknowledge the FACTS of my life (I am not a fat, useless person because I ate something not-so-feel-good), and GRATITUDE (I am thankful that I have a new day, food and life. Period.)

I have learned to try and take care of myself. But when I don’t do so great in the taking care of myself, that don’t need to hate myself for something as simple as a half-gallon of eaten ice cream.

For me, the difference between growth and stagnation is directly proportional to my ability to acknowledge the facts, be grateful, say I’m sorry (to myself and others where necessary), and move on.

When I acknowledge things as they are– even when hairy and ugly, but acknowledge them–and I move on, practice gratitude, and resign myself to change what I can, with the grace I can give myself — then I soften.

Then I am not a Jerk.

It is with grace, gratitude, forgiveness and recognition that I have seen real, permanent changes (food, sobriety, health, job).

When I ignore the facts, when I beat myself up, when I fail to practice gratitude and when I give myself no grace–that is when the Jerk shows up.

And that is 100% my fault.

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Meredith Atwood / Swim Bike Mom is an author and motivational speaker. Her books: The Year of No Nonsense: How to Get Over Yourself and On with Your Life and Triathlon for the Every Woman. You can be a Triathlete.Yes. You. (Hachette Books). Follow everywhere at @SwimBikeMom and www.SwimBikeMom.com