Soft and Squishy

About two years ago, a dear friend and mentor gave me the following piece of advice: Do not be a jellyfish, but rather, be a teddy bear. Since then, I have tried my very hardest to live like a big ol' teddy bear while keeping my jellyfish-like tendencies at bay as much as possible, but it's been a challenge, and I'm still constantly working to get it right.

What makes this a difficult skill to master at times is that jellyfish and teddy bears have something in common: they're both soft and squishy. But jellyfish are also slimy and oozy and fluid; they don't have solid boundaries to keep them from getting their ooziness all over the place. Not to mention that they sting you if you get too close. Teddy bears, on the other hand, while they are also soft and squishy, are also quite solid. A degree of firmness that keeps them from becoming an undesirable puddle of yuck makes them something that jellyfish are not: cuddly. Huggable. Something that makes you want to be close and hold them tight.

So what does this have to do with me, you may ask? Well, while I am certainly not slimy and oozy like a jellyfish, my feelings and emotions sometimes have the habit of running rampant and sliming people. I've come a long way since two years ago when I was first called out for my jellyfish-ness, but I still slip up once in awhile. I worry a lot, sometimes unneccessarily so, and in many instances I've felt like life would be so much simpler if I didn't care so darn much. Caring too much has, in the past, knocked me out of line in relationships where a degree of professionalism is needed, and with no resilience, I used to get scared, totally freak out and ooze everywhere and people got stung because I was having a hard time taking care of myself and maintaining my boundaries in those situations.

I've gotten a lot better, as time has gone on, at being a teddy bear. I'm still sometimes too soft and squishy, and I still care an awful lot about people and worry more than I should at times (read panic attack over the un-panic attack worthy), but I've built up a resilience. I've learned to bounce back. Unlike a jellyfish, when a teddy bear is dropped or squished, it can usually bounce back, no harm done to it's shape or it's softness. People can get close to a teddy bear, give it all the hugs and love in the world, and it won't ooze all over them and make a mess of a perfectly nice relationship. People like to love teddy bears, because teddy bears will love them back while retaing their own boundaries.

Interestingly enough, though, when it comes to my writing there are still too many boundaries and barriers that keep me from letting my emotions flow freely. I've put up most of those barriers myself, the barriers of thinking too hard, worrying too much, and always having to be good enough and never thinking a piece is just right. I'm actually trying to become more jelly-like when I write, not to the degree that I ooze all over and make a mess, but just enough so that I'm not so firm and hard on myself. Because after all, an overstuffed teddy bear loses all its cuddle and squish, and nobody wants to get close to a hard, un-cuddly teddy bear any more than they want to hug a jellyfish.

So that's my mission in life: to perfect the art of teddy-bear-ness.