Well, here’s another not so very uplifting post, but when I started on this whole writing deal, I promised myself I would be honest and true and write what I know.

Just don’t let me rub off on you. 

You see, I’ve got a bad attitude.

I’ve had people tell me, “Oh, you’re so positive! What a great outlook you have!”

“You’re so optimistic. You always see the glass half-full.”

If they only knew. Here’s a better window into my soul, the things that people don’t always see:

When I get mad, and I’m not talking a minor irritation, but a rage and a fury so deep that I could self-combust, I throw things. I have chunked my wad of school keys against the concrete wall in my office, intending to hit the wall, but I hit a beloved picture instead, ruining it. 

I’m a sore loser. As a child, I flipped checkerboards when I lost the game, sending the black and red checkers flying into the four corners of the room. I knocked down my grown sister and stole her Easter eggs when it appeared she had more than I did after a hunt on the most holy of Christian celebrations.

I break pencils. The wooden ones are the best.

I scream in my car until my vocal cords are scratched and hoarse.

I also lean toward a bad attitude intentionally, especially when I see someone with a happy, cheery, positively fake attitude. I will not match their energy. I will not add four additional vowel sounds to the way I pronounce the word “you” as in, “How are yewww–iiii–-ooo–uuu?”

In fact, if you (yoo) feel the way I do, come with me so we can gossip about the fakes together, look up all their dirt on social media, and laugh about them. Feel free to come sit on my porch and we’ll toast our troubles and cuss the wind.

I ruminate and dwell. I think of the things I should have said and done, and I wish I could turn back time. I worry excessively. It doesn’t matter how many times I read the commands in Scripture not to, I still default to the need to maintain some kind of control.

I also care too much what others think of me, but I think I’m gaining ground here. Otherwise, why would I write this?

There is sometimes a darkness in my soul that smothers any light that could possibly exist inside me. I am the villain of my own story, a Maleficent Marla complete with horns and black wings, flying through life looking for storms instead of rainbows.

Truly, I know what Paul said applies to me:

“This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.”

I Timothy 1:15

I am chief of sinners. I am chief of bad attitudes.

I have felt it rising up in me throughout this week. The reason this time? This world is not getting any better. The news is terrible. Everyone’s jobs are getting harder. The injustices done to the innocent make you question whether there is even a God in Heaven. 

While I’ve not thrown anything this time, I’ve certainly flown low enough in spirit to drag my toes across Hell’s black waters, leaving a trail behind me.

David said it far better than I can:

“Why, O LORD, do you stand far away? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? In arrogance the wicked hotly pursue the poor; let them be caught in the schemes that they have devised . . . Arise, O LORD; O God, lift up your hand; forget not the afflicted. Why does the wicked renounce God and say in his heart, ‘You will not call to account’? But you do see, for you note mischief and vexation, that you may take it into your hands; to you the helpless commits himself; you have been the helper of the fatherless.”

Psalm 10:1-2, 12-14

God does see, and He knows. 

I didn’t read a single line about having a good attitude in Psalm 10. The whole thing deserves a read, and for those of us with bad attitudes, especially if it’s because we’re tired of the crap of this world, we need to stitch it on a sampler and hang it on the wall to remind us that the battle is the Lord’s.

And with His help, I will battle my bad attitude until the day I die.

And therein lies the answer to it all.

I will not give in to my natural tendencies. I have an arsenal filled with all manner of weapons that I can use to combat the darkness that seeks to overwhelm me.

But I can assure you, it is a work in progress.

And I can also tell you: it is a choice.

It is a choice to turn on inspirational music or a podcast. It is a choice to recognize that I’m spiraling down instead of rising higher. It is a choice to go for a run to purge my thoughts instead of sitting and ruminating. It is a choice to pray. It is a choice to open my Bible and read it. It is a choice to believe God and remember that He sees, He knows, and He cares.

It is also a choice to write about it all.

And now that I’ve got it all out of my system, I can store my horns and wings until next time.