Lookin' For Love In All The Wrong Places

Hi, my name's Dave, and I'm an appreciation addict. (Hi, Dave!)
If the first step is to recognize that you have a problem, then I've been on this particular step for a good long time. My desperate need to be liked goes way back to third grade, when I willingly subjected myself to being Mary Symanski's "robot" for four square. At least that's my first recollection of sacrificing a certain degree of self-respect for acceptance. I'm sure there were others.
No matter how often I find myself wincing at the Stuart Smalley nature of all self-esteem issues, I still end up wondering how I run so close to empty. After all, I'm good enough. I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me. Or I will make every effort to ensure that they do. At least I will do this initially, until I reach a disjoint: Why doesn't this person love me? I've worked so hard to get them to love me. There must be something wrong with them.
As I've said, it's a sickness. I know. Even with this seeming boatload of self-awareness, I still find myself in situations that I just can't fathom. Why, for example, would I choose to be an elementary school teacher if I am so anxious to be loved? There's always a satisfying flurry of good feelings at the beginning of the year, but that wears off pretty quickly once we all realize that fourth grade isn't about "The Name Game" or passing out textbooks. I'm the boss, after all, and you can't be a really great boss if everyone loves you.
Or so I'm told. Which is why the number of management positions in my life continues to puzzle me. At each juncture, I've made an effort to show that I'm still "one of the guys", but once the employee reviews come out, things change. I am, after all, the Man.
And so it goes. It helps to get a hug from one of my kids, or to connect on a meaningful level with a parent. It helps to know that everything gets more difficult around the holidays: from parking to interpersonal relations. This too shall pass, but for now I feel the need for a fistful of chocolate chip cookies and a few more hours before I open that door to start again. As Scarlett O'Hara, another famous acceptance junkie once noted, "Tomorrow is another day."