The 10 Stupidest Things I Ever Did

If you're like me, sometime in some place an elementary school  teacher advised you that doing something dumb doesn't make you dumb; in other words, condemn the action, not the person. It made sense until you--or worse, someone working or living with you--caught you doing a series of dumb things. Then you began to worry and wonder as your self esteem dropped to a new low.
An occasional #dumb action most people can get away with, but a series of stupid behaviors can actually erode your self confidence and transform you into a lesser version of yourself. That's what happened to me. Here in no particular order are the 10 #stupidest things I ever did:

1. Once upon a time in neo-paleolithic times, I was out on the #dating scene scouring the earth for potential cavemen. I was teaching third grade at the time and pretty much hating it so I agreed to go to Florida with a few friends over winter vacation. As time went on, a few girls dropped out until finally it came down to me and another girl. This is when I should have begged off the trip or shopped around for a third person so I might have a #companion if one girl hooked up with a guy. I didn't think that far ahead, and I really got burned. Everything was copacetic, as they say, until we went to a disco-type club the first night. My pal (let's call her Amy) meets this guy and is glued to him the entire night. I don't really care, it's only one night I figure, but later I find out he's appropriated Amy for the entire vacation. Never mind jealousy; it was fear that overtook me. My first outing in the Big Cruel World and I'm doing a solo gig. Keep in mind that I'm  young, naive, depressed over my job, and am not looking for a boyfriend but rather for a nonstop pajama party. Add to this I walk off the plane and promptly develop a cold--one of those sore throat, sneezing, stuffy-nose colds where all you want is chicken soup and a shoulder to cry on. I thought Amy would be my shoulder, but from the looks of it, she's all for shacking up with this guy. Then I do the second stupid thing that seals my fate. I decide to go home. Why not? I figure. I'm sick, disgusted with Amy and don't know a single soul in Fort Lauderdale. This would have gone over better with my family if I hadn't decided to return home in the worst snow storm of the year. I get paged in the airport telling me not to fly home. I'm so low that I figure death can't be much worse so I board the plane. The weather is so bad that the plane doesn't land in Newark. It goes to La Guardia and buses us Jerseyites to Newark where my parents are waiting to deliver one of the sternest lectures of my life.
2. Decide to become a #teacher. In hindsight, this is the way dumbest thing I ever did. I based my decision on two stupid premises: (a) my mother's belief that women are limited to teaching, nursing, and office work. She actually brought up hairdressing if I didn't want to attend college, but I took that as a direct insult and a challenge; (b) my outstanding babysitting record. For several years I was a mother's helper for charming, cute babies, so everyone including me figured I would like kids. But by the time I figured out that I only liked smart, cooperative, preferably perfect children, I was already in my senior year of college with a major in education. A stint as a Brownies assistant leader told me that working with kids on badges and craft stuff wasn't fun, and for good measure I practically #flunked Student Teaching. I had this class of 25 first graders who were unmotivated to learn from me since I could not discipline them properly. That problem would follow me into my first professional teaching assignment. I'm not sure if the kids disliked me as much as I disliked their behaviors or I just never got the right kind of mentoring from a wiser and more experienced teacher, but it took me five years until I finally decided teaching wasn't for me. Call me a slow learner or extremely stubborn, but you gotta give me credit for persistence.
3. #Disbelief in mental problems. I was always fearful as a child, but the beginnings of #OCD didn't surface until I was around 9 when I had this beautifully dressed doll in a pink gown. I placed her on a large trunk kept inside my parent's room and periodically I would study her for defects. What bothered me was what I now know was just common household dust clung to her dress, making her appear dirty. I would twist my body in innumerable ways to look at her from different vantage points, all the while trying to convince myself that she was perfect and hadn't been diminished by smoggy air insinuating itself into our home. By the time I transferred over to the junior high, I knew that doll was me, and my perfectionism was just the tip of the iceberg. School phobia was my way of preventing failure, and it also was my introduction to psychology and therapy. I visited a therapist once or twice a week. She really had nothing to offer me--no meds and not even a diagnosis. My parents refused to believe that my fear of school was anything more than a lack of will power and they promised me everything but the kitchen sink if I just "snapped out of it." With their full endorsement I was made to feel #guilty for something that would be later diagnosed by psychiatrists as an uncommon anxiety disorder. Unfortunately I spent the better part of my life apologizing to my parents for being me, and it was particularly annoying since I recognized early on that my father had all the signs and symptoms of #depression.
4. #Sexual liaisons I never had. While other gals were experimenting with drugs and sex, I distanced myself from them. A good part of it was fear of how I would experience these cultural challenges. I took everything very seriously, so rejection always shadowed me. It wasn't so much the fear of pregnancy (the contraceptive pill was on the market) or the fear of bad side effects from hallucinogenic or recreational drugs; it was the feeling of rejection I might experience if I had sex and the guy never called or I embarrassed myself during a drug-induced state of euphoria.
5. Studying too much. I now regret the amount of time and energy I invested in studying since it was based on a drive for perfection and not on any great love of subject matter. Good grades can only go so far, and basically all they did was help me get into one school after another--from NYU to Kean College to Rutgers to Mesa Community College and finally to Arizona State. 
6. Self torture about Childlessness. Before I made one of the smarter moves in my life, which was to skip having children, I indicted myself. I knew that my family attributed my decision to being a weak-minded, selfish female, and this pained me immeasurably. They never expressed their feelings, but certain looks exchanged by my parents and some of their body language convinced me. It took me many years before I recognized that my decision was a wise one for me. My stupid persistence in valuing my family's opinion and devaluing my own took me down a fool's path of always looking for applause from people I gradually learned knew little about themselves, much less me.
7. Stinky Shrink. One of the stupidest moves I made was not quitting a therapist or psychiatrist quickly enough. A certain female psychologist in northern NJ comes to mind. I don't know what type of therapy she was using on me but I periodically would come home crying and complaining. Many years later I learned not to view this as my failure, but as her limitation.
8. Stigma. So much has been written about mental illness' stigma that anything I write here would be redundant. For many years I was ashamed that I had been hospitalized for #OCD/depression for a month. Now #celebrities practically brag about their #rehab stays for addiction and mental health maladies. So I ask you: Which is more stupid? Keeping your psychological woes secret or using them for free publicity?
9. Attention seeking. My #dysfunctional behavior turned me into an approval seeker. I got little from my family so I turned to friends. This dependence makes you vulnerable to what the other person wants from you. With guys, this can be a recipe for disaster as it nearly was for me when I went to a local bar with some girls and started feeling bored and rejected. When a guy suggested we leave, I was easy prey. He  fulfilled two needs: He relieved my distaste for the alcoholic atmosphere of a bar, and he indicated he thought I was hot. I was lucky.I managed to talk my way out of a near rape.
10. Kooks in the mental health field. When you're #desperate for relief, you often go beyond the traditional in hopes that this "innovative" technique will deliver a cure. I've fallen for this line from people hawking vitamins, supplements, and useless techniques (for me) such as biofeedback and meditation. Nothing worked for me until the advent of antidepressants such as Effexor and Prozac. Most recently I have found ketamine to be useful. What stupid things have you ever done? What can you share that might help someone else?