A Problem With Pride

Pulling myself back to earth

No way around it but to accept the fact that I have too much pride. It has come to my attention in a rather abrupt confrontation at the grocery store. While perusing the cooking oil section, I began to argue with my sister over which oil to get. She was thinking of getting canola because she has read that it could be the healthiest of them all.

Of course, my primal response was to be the antagonist. I decided to check the nutritional value of all kinds of oil. My point being she might have gotten her information from some shady blog and that my idea of buying the regular vegetable oil (for about 1/5 the price of the canola oil; she’s paying) is the best idea this Carrefour branch has ever seen.

She took offense.

I admit. I might have been condescending. It was really my fault. Not only was she willing to spend her own hard-earned cash on healthier oils, she might have been right all along. But whether she’s right or wrong is really besides the point. This “I know better” thing has been going on for quite a while and I’m not really proud of it. Well, to kill it before it buries itself too deep in my system, I need to acknowledge it, then talk myself out of it. But first….

The shameful saving face

My current situation is that I’m living with her. For free. Well, I do my share of cleaning, cooking and other chores but they benefit me more than it benefits her and my wonderful niece.

Well, let me explain that. You see, I’ve been a pretty spoiled kid. I was never sentenced to chores and even though I’ve lived in dorms for school, domestic responsibility has always been dealt with a dismissive shrug. I remember in high school when my roommate couldn’t bear the mess of my study table so he’d volunteer to clean it up at no cost to me. I was proud of that then but now I”m kind of shameful. (But to be fair he looked like he enjoyed himself.)

This whole doing most of the domestic chores is actually teaching me how to live on my own. In other words, I’m not just doing it for them. Living on my own, being self-sufficient is a big part of my future plans. My sheltering parents and my nanny (who is definitely already part of the family ever since she joined us months before my birth) don’t really give me an opportunity to become independent. If I wash the dishes, they wouldn’t call me out if I just rinse half with water and fade out to the bedroom. When I’m fast asleep, my nanny would just rewash everything so my half-assed attempts and (imaginary) achievements remain valuable in the morning.

That’s not really the case with my sister. She is bullshit-proof and I love that about her. I can’t expect her to take the hit when I do something less than responsible. A change of tone, or a crease on her forehead is a clear sign of disapproval which I can’t stand. Only this way can I find a form of discipline that works for my big baby ass.

So…maybe the constant “I know better” dialogues with her is to try to make a significant contribution. If you graph the benefit flow right now, all arrows point to me. This “I know better” complex is probably because I want to add to conversation, make her and everyone around me know that I’m capable of helping with shit and I have a brain not completely numb from my extremely comfy upbringing.

Also, maybe it was just a form of play. Maybe I was trying to reconnect with my sister through bickering. Maybe it was a bad day and we both were caught off-guard by my calculated intro of crap. Maybe I forgot to play the slapstick music on time to signal the coming crap-alanche.

The admission

This is the part I don’t like very much and neither will anyone in my situation. Ok. I admit. At some level, maybe I thought I was better at her in understanding the digestive tendencies of oil, or how retail works, or why this thing does this and not this. Or maybe how knowing this friend makes me an authority on this field, or how I’m so much more knowledgeable on this topic because I’ve read it in passing on some blog.

It’s gross. The worse part is that I’m very aware of the limits of understanding but I’d willingly volunteer a guess (read:lie) than admit I don’t know. It’s bad character.

(Also, let me just say my sister isn’t like, you know, the regular person. She’s smart both by birth and by virtue. Not trying to flatter her but it’s true. So the “I might actually know better” argument is just getting weaker the more I think of it.)

Fixing it

Maybe this is the best part about being extremely self-conscious. I’m able to pinpoint where a flaw rests so I can work on it. The only problem is success rates are often low. Hopefully, writing it down helps keep me in focus.

Here is the multi-step guide I’ve come up with. It’s complete with numbering because listicles is the only valid way to approach life in this generation.

1. Admit my current position

This is really important. I’m 100% the benefactor of my current living arrangements. I’m being taught how to live responsibily in an almost zero-consequence environment. I’m on my way learning to manage my own finances and be an all-around responsible adult under strict tutelage.

That means I am the student not the teacher. Although we remain to be sister and (younger) brother, I need to tell myself that there is no point in showing off, there is no shame in admitting lack of knowledge (this is constant in life) and that there are a lot of shit I don’t know and it’s ok for people to know that.

This is a steep uphill climb for me. I usually can’t let people know that I don’t know crap. My head would just whirl worrying how they can think I’m a good for nothing dumb-dumb.

2. Frankly, I’m close to being a good for nothing dumb-dumb and I should keep that in mind.

I have a good job and it pays enough to let me live comfortably and can help me save money. I have a lot of opportunities to enjoy life and make the most of what I can do. So why can’t I do this?

I’m not responsible. It is time I face up to the fact that although I can feel like I’ve got everything figured out, I’m still a little naive boy trying to make sure I have most of the candy from the pile.

I’ve been spending way too much and rewarding myself disproportionately. Somehow I’ve convinced myself there is always a cushion to fall on. What if this wasn’t the case? Solid and rock-hard proof that I don’t know a single thing about being a responsible adult. This sucks but going back to point number one, there is no shame in admitting lack of something.

3. I should realize I’m not stupid.

All my friends are working on their degrees. At least half are already on their way for an MD. Some are abroad on coveted scholarships while some are on their way to becoming accredited chemists, pharmacists, etc. There will be no surprise if I find their names on top-notcher lists. In stark night-day, dead-alive contrast, I’m a college drop-out.

I sometimes feel like a fat frog trying to keep up with the swans. My closest friends are smart and my self-confidence is a pro at taking a beating. I mean I’m always genuinely proud of them but I’m wired to fantasize about being in there shoes. They’re sure of what they want to be and they the chops to go ahead and get them.

That is why I can be over-protective when it comes to topics I know a little about. I can’t just sit aside and listen to people talk about science or health or this or that without butting in. In my head it’s just a constant “They think you’re useless.” and I have to prove them wrong with the bickering because I can’t slam a degree on the table (I don’t have that) nor a professional ID (don’t have that either).

But the point is there is no need to really slam anything on the table. When I think of it, my peers never really talk about achievements. We’re happy being with each other and that has always been the point. It’s all in my head then.

Also, I’m not stupid. I have many reasons to think I have a good set inside my skull. It’s a challenge to believe this but I should try.

In closing

This whole article seems like a chance to churn out self-depreciating drivel which I seem to enjoy far too much. But it isn’t. It isn’t a quirky little piece that I put on my blog to appear self-reflective. I’m putting it up here because I want to change. For realz. The opportunity is there. My rare optimism can really see that all conditions are conniving in this pursuit of a better self.

I like how I’m much more self aware than anyone I know. Boo-yah. Also, vegetable oils are just as healthy as canola says Mayo Clinic.

I’ve got an awfully long way to go.

originally published on my blog: WhereAreYouLeo.com