Waiting on the World to Change

As far as John Mayer fans go, I'm probably in that top tier of crazies. He's one of those artists I can listen to on repeat, and I hardly ever get sick of his music. BUT there is one song that I absolutely cannot stand: Waiting on the World to Change. Perhaps you're familiar with it. The actual music is fine, but the lyrics make me cringe, and I skip over it every time my iTunes shuffles to it.

Waiting on the world to change. I would argue that that mentality is exactly what's wrong with society. Too often, we wait for someone else to make the first move. We wait for someone to apologize before we forgive them. We wait to change our behavior until someone calls us out on it. We wait for a family member to get sick before we make those sacrifices to see them more often. We wait for others to change so we can have a stronger, happier relationship. We wait for someone to write a law or cite a Scripture verse that tells us the "right" thing to do. In a society that promotes  impulsivity and immediate gratification, I find all this waiting paradoxical. Beautiful and heart-sickening, isn't it?

Now, I realize that when you point a finger at someone else, you're pointing three fingers back at yourself. I will readily admit, I'm guilty of this, too.

My question to myself is, "Why wait? Why not be that force that sets more change in motion?" In the vast amounts of wisdom I've accumulated since turning 22 (please note the sarcasm in that), I've realized that the world doesn't wait for anyone, so why would you wait for the entire world to change? You can't change the rest of the world; you can only change yourself. When you change yourself, you change your world.

It's easy to get caught up in the madness of trying to be an exceptional (or even an adequate) student, employee, spouse, parent, or friend. Being a human is hard enough without all the roles we adopt for ourselves. But why not make it worth your while by spicing things up? Do something different today, and see how it changes your world.

Who am I?

Recently, I've rediscovered my love for the show House. You know, the one with the not-so-nice doctor who habitually gulps down Vicodin and then saves people's lives. Yes, I'm aware that this is a hallmark example of ridiculous prime time television that is not at all congruent with the actual practice of medicine. Yes, I realize that acting that way in real life will most certainly end in a malpractice suit...take note, med school friends. I must admit, though, I find the character of Dr. House fascinating. He's cantankerous at best, overly self-involved, and brilliant at diagnostics. He's a soul in torment, haunted by his own health issues and the ghosts of his past relationships. In one episode, another character on the show commented that House is afraid to let himself be happy in a relationship because he's afraid that his misery is what makes him who he is. He's afraid that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose that edge that identifies him as special, that keeps him objective, and what makes him known in his field. At first, I thought something along the lines of "that's ridiculous," and then I realized that I can see that in myself, at times.

I worry. I could waste lines and lines here listing the things of the past, present, and future that I dedicate worrying to, but I won't. I'm learning to let go, and I'm realizing that this has to be self-taught. No matter how many people tell me, "Don't worry, it'll be ok," that doesn't change me. That doesn't change the roots of my worry, and that doesn't change the way that I respond to my worries. Worry can be protective in some ways; it can lead to planning and action, which could lead to a path of future success, or it could save someone's life in an emergency situation. When worry ceases to be protective, however, is when it does not lead to action. Worrying without limits is like weeds in a garden; it eventually chokes out the goodness.

I'm coming to realize that I often tend to over-identify with my worries as a core part of who I am. Part of me wants this to change, and the other part of me isn't ready to give it up yet (homeostasis, anyone?). I feel comfortable with my worry, and giving up that worry means trusting others and God....which is a whole other blog topic. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with my endless search for finding ways to manage my worries, I remind myself that it's a process. It takes time. Worry has plagued humanity since ancient times. I am more than my worry, and it's simply a piece of the puzzle of me.

What are you hesitant to give up about yourself?