Self-control Stockpile

I have a tonne of self-control.

Scads of it.

Mostly because I never use it.

I'm saving it up for something important.

Or at least that has been my line for the last 10 odd years.

But what began as a fun, glib throw-away answer to infuriate various relatives or nosy parkers has left me in a somewhat annoying position now.

It used to be something I said to keep myself from saying something far more biting to people who thought that because I was doing something different, I should be called on it; and because I was called on it, I should stop it.

I didn't stop.

I kept reading in trees.

Getting about in comfortable gear.

Finishing my meals at formal school functions* and enjoying good food without saying things like 'oh I shouldn't be eating this!'.

Enjoying competition for itself and winning at things I'm good at and blowing off things I'm not interested in.

And for the most part it has served me well.

Helping me take opportunities and chances that worrying about the opinions of others may have dissuaded me from taking; helping me make the most of things.

Until now.

Recently more often than not I've found myself using the same tactics, techniques and arguments in order to take the path of least resistance.

To put off effort in the short term that would pay off in the long term in order to do things that I don't particularly value.

This makes me cross.

I've never liked being told what to do so when people tried to tell me how to live/act/feel I immediately turned my back and did the opposite.

This doesn't work so well when I'm the person holding both sides of the argument.

Especially when it becomes apparent that something I used to use to assert and protect my independence and personality is now being turned against me - by myself! - to limit myself.

There's refusing to be ordered about and there's sheer bloody-minded petulance.

I'm afraid I've slipped into the second.

Time to become my own drill sergeant.

When I catch myself saying 'I'll do it later' or 'I'll just do this for a little bit...' or even 'Oh it's Monday, I have the rest of the week to do that', it'll be time to draw on my vast reserves of self-control, flick myself behind the ear and get on with what I want to do.

Because I refuse to be told what to do.

By anybody.

Especially myself.

Uppity bastard.



*Apparently NOT acceptable to other teen girls!