I’m a Real Person


You know those “I am not a robot” situations that you have to fill out to prove that you’re a human? A few weeks ago I was attempting to prove I was human by selecting all the cars/traffic signs/storefronts I could see in a group of pictures. The form kept refreshing and asking me to find more items. I guess I wasn’t acting human enough. I finally got frustrated and said, “I’m a real person”, and gave up. I had reached my limit. A few days ago, I was talking to a friend of mine about all the stuff I’ve been up to, and how I get sad and tired sometimes. I told her that I feel bad when I can’t keep up or when I’m not always happy. She said, “Well, you’re not a robot.” And I said, “No, you’re right. I’m a real person.” She goes on to tell me that I have a right to feel sad and tired sometimes. It’s human. Sometimes you reach your limit. That I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. I have nothing to prove to anyone... I had a similar conversation with my sister a week before that. “Cut yourself some slack”, she said. All of this sounds reasonable and obvious in hindsight. I hadn’t even considered cutting myself any slack. The concept of competing with myself, the “me vs. me” thing, has been borderline toxic. I’m one person. One whole person. Not a dual identity. Not a robot that can go on and on without rest. I’m a real person that deserves love and rest and compassion. I have nothing to prove.