The one thing we all can’t seem to live without. It consumed us in everyday life as it has reinforced itself as a most self-gratifying method we have to communicate between each other. We all want it, the metaphorical drug that responds with the most addictive high in human history.
I’m certainly not immune to it, such ridiculousness in scoffing at others when I’m no less fallible. Take my current weight loss journey for instance. A small celebration was had when I stepped on the scales to learn I had reached the 25kgs milestone, closely followed by the revelation that I could finally fit into a Muppet shirt I bought at the age of 16.
Rather than appreciating these small achievements by myself, it was an instant prerogative to have my housemate take a photo of me so I could post a before and after comparison. No one else will care about this aside from my fellow members of Weight Watchers. Post I did. Recognition and praise followed all day. However, as I actually stop to ponder for a few moments, it dawns on the mind just how shallow my reaction is to it.
That’s certainly not to downplay the praise the lovely ladies of WW have bestowed. I’m sure they truly meant it and weren’t simply giving attention in the hopes of instant attention in return.I just remember a time of life when I didn’t need to second guess the attention of well-wishers.
I was very much the definition of loser throughout my primary and secondary education. Now there was a time in which I regarded the seldom given praise in my direction thoroughly until it was worn out. Writing was my only talent and reading was my escape from underwhelming reality. I won a few inter-school writing competitions, was invited to exclusive workshops with visiting authors and consistently maintained top-of-the-class status in my English classes.
During one of the aforementioned authors workshops,I can still recall the feeling of pride rushing through me for my descriptive language we had been asked to experiment with. A separate occasion had me beaming on the inside when one of my bullies called bullshit on an essay introduction I been asked to read aloud to the class. He didn’t believe I could write something that was practically at university standards and yet two years later I was achieving high distinctions in my literature units for my course.
It’s simple to understand why even the supposedly negative instances of recognition held deeper meaning and hold a special place in my self-esteem.
They weren’t over-saturated.
While blogging has become a fond hobby of mine, there is the negative side which caters to my need for that instant gratification. When I see less than 20 people have read a post, my brain seems to completely skip over the logical thinking which concludes with,”Well maybe you should be more conscientious in gaining a following and connecting with other bloggers,” and goes straight to,”Oh woe is me!” The information is right there, but for some reason, I can’t seem to decipher, I’m either too lazy or too scared to take the first step.
Ugh, I don’t even know where I was going. Give this post a like, maybe the 30 second bout of happiness will jog my memory…
Muppet Enthusiast, Film Lover, Book Adorer. No one original, but (hopefully) providing brand new perspectives for the world to process. Currently a Bachelor of Arts undergraduate at Deakin University.