Pride

Pride is a funny thing.

If left unattended, it will cost you a lot. Maybe friends, lovers, money...a job...even family.

I think if anger is bad, pride is even worse.

Don't get me wrong, I think that everyone has the right to be pleased with their achievements and accomplishments. I truly believe that if you work really hard for something and earn it with your blood, sweat and tears, you have every right to be proud of it-well, actually maybe proud of your work ethic. That is not a bad kind of pride.

I think the worst kind of pride happens when something falls into your lap and you herald it as a personal triumph. Or maybe when you know you're wrong, but refuse to admit it. I think pride in a boastful manner is definitely a turn off on a karmic level.

My car was a point of pride for me.

I worked for it, paid for it, but struggled to do it. And for what? So many vehicles will get you from point A to point B safely and without incident. But this car? It was *pretty*! It was black and shiny and fast and-gasp-had a moon roof! Oh, how I loved that car! It was the first vehicle I had ever received compliments on! It was sexy, and felt like it fit me!

The things it didn't fit: My credit score. As in, I needed a co-signer to get this car, and I picked a pretty un-savory choice (an ex-boyfriend). It didn't fit my income and goals ratio-I want a house, even if it's a run down fixer upper tinky trailer. But there was no way I could save money driving a car with that high of a car and insurance payment. I was maxed out and stressed out. I knew the car was going to need maintenance things like, tires. I also knew that unless I didn't eat for a month, tires were not happening!

What ended up getting me in the end was the ties to the ex. Was the pride of driving the car worth the payment? Meh. I'd figure something out. But I could definitely not live with having someone who could still control me, and would continue to do so, as long as I was driving around my shiny, awesome, black car.

So! Dad to the rescue! Now I'm driving around Bertha! She's a Buick so large, I've had smaller apartments! And luxurious! And rides like a cloud! And has low miles! And gets around the same gas mileage!

I guess this came to a head when I was getting gas yesterday, and the gas station attendant (at the station I usually use) asked me if I was driving my grandma around. Cute! "Nope, this is my new car." "What happened to the black car?!" "Meh, our time together came to an end." "Accident?" "Nope." "Lease?" "Sort of." "How can it 'sort of' be a least?" "Let's just say...a change in goals."

This is puzzling a lot of people. So I'll spell it out here, once. Pride is a dangerous thing. It influences us to make decisions that can be detrimental and bad for us in the long run. It can mess with our bigger picture, our best life. It can promote entanglements that are toxic or separations that are poorly thought out. The trick is to find out which one it is and then go the other way.

Right now I don't have time for pride. I'm too busy trying to make a life for my son and I. And also, figuring out exactly which Elizabeth Taylor fragrance blows out of Bertha's hot air vents!