Judge and prepare to be judged

That's Ayn Rand's corollary to Jesus' "Judge not that ye be not judged."

So, here's the deal. I believe that, but I've done very little to prepare to be judged. I take it pretty easy; others have paved my path with marshmellows, really. Maybe people mistake my tendency to say, "you don't have to do that" for politeness and that just encourages them to do more, but the fact is that I feel that favors done for me are debts that I'll never be able to repay. I'm getting better at feeling and expressing gratitude, but that sort of thing still goes on in my head. People do get the message eventually, and stop doing the things that usually ingratiate them with others. Unfortunately, they have no idea what to do to ingratiate themselves with me.

It would be good if I had any idea what to tell them. Or how. Hence the shrink. I'm not sure if this one will work out, but that's the way it goes sometimes, I'm told.

Did anyone think I was going to write a brilliant essay today? Why should today be any different? Lol.

I judge myself harshly for not living up to values that I can respect. The temptation there is to judge others equally harshly; to displace my anger at myself onto others who don't live up to my values. I try not to do that, but I'm afraid I too often give the impression that I do. There are people who live up to my values, I think. The younger boy does. The older boy has, and, hopefully is on his way to doing it again. Most business men and women do. As far as I know, all of the ones I've met do, but I'll leave room for any hidden Ken Lays in the bunch.

I fear their judgment. I hide my values, so that people can't judge me by them, but the people who are already living by them... I fear their disapproval.

Saying "F___ 'em!" doesn't cut it as a way to rebuild me self-esteem. I still admire entrepreneurs, inventors, businessmen and builders...creators of beautiful (and/or useful) things...and I know that I'm not one of them.

But I could be...if I could just latch onto whatever the hell it is that launches people to great deeds.

You know what? That translates to "if I could figure out how to feel like it."

People smile at me...my daughter! smiles at me... and I think, "You don't know me very well, or you'd know I don't deserve that beautiful gift."

All right, I think I just succumbed to the temptation to write black poetry rather than explore my feelings. That doesn't ring true at all. But I scared something inside me. Is it my true self? Or is it the false self - the defensive mask, created to protect me? From what?

The first betrayal I can remember was in Kindergarten. But... No, come to think of it, though I won every real fight with that kid afterward, I could never best him at slinging insults. And there was a bully before that. Not Ron. But several of us bested that one.

Thank you, doctor. That was helpful.