After a couple of days with no luck resetting my password at WP, I decided to try on Mom’s PC, and got it done. In case you were wondering why I haven’t commented much or posted at all, that should explain it.
Of course, being me, I tried several times to reset the password on my tablet. When it didn’t work the first time, or the second, I should have immediately checked my email on the PC. But I get into these stubborn matches with my electronics, which highlight my Taurus nature; I will insist that the next time the tablet will do the right thing and send me a reset password email, but to no avail. When I checked my mail on the PC, I had 11 responses to my lost password query. How much time did I waste fiddling with something that wouldn’t work — too much.
This obstinate streak is one I’ve faced my whole life — still haven’t got it under control. I cringe when I think of the stories my parents could tell about me as a child, and this unpleasant characteristic. The problems I faced from my late teens until today, primarily involving diabetes, have all been on account of my bull-headed insistence that, if I couldn’t have my way, I would just take my bat and ball and go home. I remember pouting and stomping my foot in frustration when I was five — but I’m sure this happened before that age as well.
My higher education was surely affected by my being stubborn. Probably the worst case was when I quit the music department, and gave up playing the french horn for a couple of decades, because the professor, whom I’d known for 4 years in summer music camp, told me out of the blue that I had to change everything about the way I played the horn. Music was the greatest joy in my life, at that time, and I gave it up because I thought I played quite well, and had been told so by most of the adults in my music life. I bit off my nose to spite my face, and that phrase may well be the theme of my life, until very recently. I am not free of it yet, though I have relaxed a little bit.
My second marriage is my third example. H. is really a very nice man, and my Mom and Dad still love him, and love seeing him. We divorced in 1990 — I have known for a couple of years now that my stubbornness led to the end of that relationship, though I blamed it on H. for years. In fact, all three of my marriages were affected, in part or in whole, by my unwillingness to believe that my job was to love my husband, not to change him.
With all of these examples in mind, I can safely say that most of my life has been thinking things should go my way, and then sighing, rolling my eyes, stomping my foot, giving up, ignoring medical conditions I didn’t want to face, and generally being a bull in a china shop. I hope I have outgrown most of this, although my time on the tablet this morning demonstrates that I am not free, nor am I likely to be, until I understand that objects don’t care how much I want them to change.
I feel much better for having written this down. Perhaps this is the focus I need to give the phones, and computers, and doctors, and the general population, a chance to just be who or what they are, and to appreciate them as such.