The Good Son

Before I begin, I want to clarify; I am not perfect nor do I claim to be. My history is fraught with lots of mistakes from which I try to learn.  I try my best to be the person I can to be and follow the best path.  This post is about the trouble with the high road that I try to take.

The prodigal son is a parable I know well, not for the traditional reason such as my Catholic upbringing. I have a different connection with the story.  When I was growing up, my sister in all of her gloriousness started to refer to me as the prodigal son.  To her, I could do no wrong in the eyes of my parents.  I avoided their punishment and seemingly was always treated better by them.  Of course, this was untrue, just as I don’t pick a favorite parent, my parents didn’t pick favorite children.  This didn’t deter her, making me feel like I was separate from the rest of my siblings like I didn’t belong with the rest of them like my struggle was somehow void and lesser in the face of everything.  Now I can not speak to how it was, all I can say is how I feel, and I saw it as equal treatment.  The story evolved for me when I grew older.  First, my dad started referring to the story as the forgiving father rather than the prodigal son because that was the take away from the parable and I think he was hinting at something. Second, even though in colloquial language the prodigal son refers to the child who can do no wrong, what prodigal means is wasteful or spends money unwisely. A description that fits me even less than I less than the previous meaning.  Even through it all, I tried to live up to being that shining spectacle of this good son.

When I had gotten into high school and went through the customary process of receiving the Rite of Confirmation. Right before we are to receive it,  we are told to reflect on which of the seven gifts of the holy spirit. One of the gifts was wisdom, being that I was already pretty good with knowledge, and had known that King Solomon had asked God for wisdom before he became king, I thought it would be a good idea to choose wisdom. From then I wanted to be one of those old sages on a hill that everyone came to for advice.

What does this have to do with anything? What’s the point in me writing this?

Well, truth be told, it’s because it helped send me down a strange path in life, this is not about faith or religion, it’s about morality.

I have always been one to follow my conscience, or try to.  Be it the fun path or not, the voice in my head directing me towards what I should do rather than what I feel like doing has been loud and clear. I always wanted to live up to being noble, polite, and a good person.  A man of virtue so to speak.  Let me tell you; it is frustrating. When something comes up, and I know it’s probably ill-advised but sounds fun, I am compelled to say no.  I know how I should approach a situation and how to act around people. How to keep out of trouble, and how to perform correctly.  It keeps me out of bad situations, but the other problem is that it keeps me out of life.

When people tell stories, they talk about how something went awry. It usually beings with something out of the ordinary, and a lot of the time not well thought out plan by at least one person.  Knowing and taking the path where I have listened to others and about their mistakes and missteps and how they solved the problem has given me a wealth of knowledge but a lack of experiences.  That voice in my head that keeps me from trouble also makes me away from living.  It’s like when one kid burns and knowing not to touch, it makes me want to know what it feels like to get burned even though I am aware it’s a bad thing.  I know how to live correctly, but the path that I end up walking on is lonely.  I know to take the high road, but sometimes I just want to take the same route as everyone.

Though this right way doesn’t guarantee success, what it does give me is the ability to look at myself in the mirror for the choices I have made.  The problem is, I just want to be young and make silly decisions.  My conscience bears down on me, though, making sure that I stay tried and true.  I feel like sometimes it would be easier to be freed of this constant badgering, allowed to make these decisions based on feelings at the time.  The problem with knowing where to go makes taking the wrong path becomes a purposeful decision to hinder me, which is illogical. It’s like a slow insanity because when I know something is wrong, it immediately becomes undoable.

This doesn’t seem like a huge issue and even as I am writing this I feel a bit silly, but it’s frustrating as hell.  Trying to be this virtuous person all the time is tiring, and all I want to do is take a break from it.  Take a break from caring, from doing the right thing. Go off the deep end.  One of the things I had imagined when I was younger was escaping into the night without anyone’s notice to walk the empty streets. The thing that kept me from doing it other than the fact I would have been in trouble if caught that it would be cold and lonely so not as much fun my romanticizing of it would be. Now I could be very wrong, and I am missing this hot new trend of midnight walking, but it’s those kinds of thoughts that drive me crazy. I just want to do these things that people my age could get away with because we are young instead of never doing it and missing my chance.

I have been trying to free myself of these binds I have kept myself, allowing me to live more. Exploring these decisions and allowing myself to move out of the proverbial good choices. I am trying to live differently and to make decisions that I would both enjoy and be proud of. Gain these experience that I crave.  Live the life that I want; I will always act according to my conscience but I can least widen what is consider as a good result.  I will keep moving forward and learning more from others but I can at least try to live some of these things for myself, because sometimes kids have to get burned by the stove to really understand the reason to not touch it.

Time Crime

Tick…

As a person, I am greedy. I want everything to happen and nothing to happen without me.  Honestly, this problem would be solved if there wasn’t a finite amount of time I had during the day.  Of course, I am constrained by the reality in which I live. I think about this often, how long do I have to do what I want with my life? I feel the ticking of the clock.

Tick…

24 hours in a day, which seems like a lot but I immediately have to sleep so subtract 6 to 8 hours every day where I can’t be productive on anything other than sleeping.  Well, I have to get ready and if I want to exercise that’s another hour out. So I’m now at 15 to 17 hours left in the day. Not doing so bad.  I’ll probably devote at least another for all my meals, and about 8-9 hours for work.  So about 5 to 7 hours left, averaging about 360 minutes.

Tick…

That’s not enough time for everything, though,  reading, writing, hanging with friends, learning something new.  How can I fill it all up, to the point where I don’t feel like I am behind.  The stack of promises my mind makes me make increases as the time I have to do it all stays the same. How am I suppose to keep enough energy to make sure I don’t waste that time allotted?

Tick…

It becomes a race for minutes for what is worthwhile, and again, I am greedy. I want to do everything, and yet I don’t have enough time.  I am not even allowed to choose what times work is going to happen; I don’t have that luxury.  My minutes might be split, taking me home, getting oriented, all I see are these things taking away time, having it slip through my hands.  I can’t help it, what am I to do, what does it take to become determined when I need to.  What determines if an activity is worthwhile or not. Should I read or go out with my friends, should I write or go running. These choices plague me; I don’t want to have to make those decisions, I don’t want to have to weigh those costs and benefits.

Tick…

When I finally find enough events to fill up that time, I finally feel full, complete, there is always more, though, more that I will want.  I can’t steal time, I wish I could, make minutes last for hours, hours last for days.  Pack it all in so I can experience everything I want, everything that I crave.

Tick…

I realize how fragile these schedules are, how much I rely on work and sleep to drive the day.  A simple shift in one direction or another closes doors I had spent so much time opening up for myself. Takes away these activities that I have enjoyed so much.  I have no control over time, and a little bit of control over what time I have.

Tick…

I’ve woken up to this, staring at the ceiling pondering how much time I can stay laying under the warm blanket before I have to get up to make the most of the day.  How many minutes are these times of peace worth, how much the dreams I have at night worth? Each moment more priceless than the last, the time I have to do things feels like it’s slowly ticking down on me. How long will this period of my life last, when will move onto the next thing, how much time will I get to enjoy the subtle nuances of life before I have to leave them behind, without so much as a goodbye?

Tick…

This is another thing I have no answer. I try to steal away the seconds from the clock, hoard them like a pile of gold, but I can’t keep hold of them. I try to find little forgotten moments of the day to pack in all the extra things. Multitasking lets me complete a bit more, but the product is hardly up to snuff.   All I have is now but is that enough to sustain me, when will it become my time, when will I have my moments, part of me is scared that they might already be gone.

Tick…

Times up.

Empty Spaces

My heart pumps slow, like a loud drum in an orchestra, bringing attention to itself ever time it beats, especially when there is no other noise around me. I sit in a darkened room illuminated only by my laptop, the best place to write because I can finally concentrate on one thing, and one thing only.  My body feels heavy from all the work I have been trying to put into it; eating right and exercising take its toll especially when I have been staying up so late. My arms feel heavy, and my back wants to slouch, my mind craves music to fill the empty silences even though I stop paying attention to what is playing after a short time. It’s just the noise that keeps me going. All my mind wants is to sit back and talk about all the mysteries of the world into the night, but all I have is the empty space beside me, and a desire to fill it with someone who will lay back and ponder the world with me.

I always have had a difficult time when it comes to what I want with intimacy.  Never knowing how to feel about wanting someone there, and knowing they want me to be there too. Trying to find the people who get me, or how it was put to me,  feeling as they truly see me.  It’s this feeling that comes from the heart, telling me to fill it up with love for other people.

I am confused, how is it that I am supposed to find these people now?  How am I suppose to reach out and interact with them? The number of people I come in contact with diminished and the technological alternatives are not always the best at conveying thoughts and ideas.

I have come to a point, where my heart and mind are confused, craving that conversation, craving those people who want to stay up all night long to talk about everything and nothing at all while in the mean time feeling so done with the idea of intimacy that it disassembles and disconnects my sexuality. Part of me is happy; I have the ability to work on myself, work on all the little things that I’ve trouble with, polishing my skills and making sure I have a solid foundation.  It gives me time to breathe and reflect on life. The other part of me is still looking up at the sky hoping to ignite those relationships and start that fire within my chest.

Should I seek that connection? Those intertwining tendrils that weave two stories together linking people. I try to reach out in ways, finding that trying to ignite those heart to heart conversations, a connecting of souls are few and far between.  It makes me question my desire for this connection, is this something that’s natural or is this another symptom of my confusion.

I know at the end of the day, connecting will always do me well.   I have both lost and gained connections over the years but as of now, I want more.  I want that person to be there, to get me, that person I can be loud with and sit in silence with.  The person who wants to be there, knows I want them there too.

The music stops, the hour grows late. My eyes grow tired but unable to rest.  My body is slinking down now, and my mind slows. I find myself mulling over these thoughts in the dark quiet of my room, reminded of the empty space next to me.

Where Is The End Of The Road?

I have come to a crossroads of sorts.  A place where I find myself both comfortable but completely disturbed.  I have no sure fire plan of what I should be doing in the next couple months or next year.  I haven’t, unfortunately, heard back from any grad schools leading me to fear the worst.  With this time of waiting, my resolve and goals in life come into question. I wouldn’t be a true overthinker if I didn’t have to reconsider where I should be going in life with this sort of set back, and where I have hit a limit of what I can accomplish.

Of course, for me, is an overstatement;  I’m not crazy enough to think I have peaked at my young age, but it does bring up whether or not I have gone as far as I could in psychology, and whether I should pick up something else.  T ue to fall short of these lofty dreams I have made for myself. Will I be able to face myself in the mirror and be able again to accept the direction of my life?    The problem I face is that I feel a bit like a fish out of water confronted with the conundrum of whether I should return to the water or if I should grow legs and learn to live on land. Should I change the dream to fit my limit to or should I continue pushing past it to invest in the future that I believe I belong?

Following this dream and pushing past this limit is easy when those around me were all intent on doing the same and had a belief that we could do anything. Now, I am faced with a warped reality where the constraints of yesterday become a concern. Where my environment screams that I should dream less and become more realistic with what I should pursuit.

My spirit is not that weak to collapse under the weight of “reality”.  I am greedy in this way; I want everything, and I am working on getting all that I dream of regardless of this what I may come to face.  Limits are things I have placed on myself, and the only way to get through them is to face them. I am unreasonable by nature in this regard, I will not succumb, because if I did, the reflection in the mirror would not accept me, and I would not be able to face all those who I have looked up to be them real or fake.

I don’t know what will win out at the end of the day, whether the limits will crush me or whether I will be freed to continue to climb. I just know that I have to not be afraid to meet my limit, and keep fighting to move forward.

If you always put limit on everything you do, physical or anything else. It will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. – Bruce Lee

 

 

The Troubles Being An Optimist!

Hi, I am Matt, and I am an optimist.

I have had this inclination for as long as I can remember, believing things will end up sunny side up at the end of the day. I don’t know where it started, but this star-studded disposition makes life burn with a flair, but I run into trouble.  You see, my primary interest is people, and people rarely act according to the way optimists ( including myself) think they will.

Learning about human nature has a way of changing people.  The more I learn about others, the more people puzzle me.  I frequently have a hard time being an optimist about people. Psychology tells me people will do anythings to lessen discomfort and maximize reward. Pushing themselves into situations or attitude that they have learned over the course of their lifetime to get what they want from the world. Finding ways to make the world better for them, to cope with their surroundings and when those surroundings clash, the meeting of these two opposite winds create tornadoes for all to see. Destroying and building debris for all to see. Now it doesn’t necessarily work out, but mainly people will follow that. A pattern of behaviors that is observed quantified and calculated. My optimistic side tells me that people will do the right thing, help others, be able to find that happiness, and solve all their problems. That there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and a new brighter future awaits everyone. That you won’t be stuck in the same cycles of hate forever as long as you are willing to break them.  I frequently find myself at a crossroads of what to think about people. On one hand, they can follow what psychology tells me about people will do, the other what I hope people will do, and seldom are they the same.

This problem I face in this is unyielding. It makes me question whether or not I am wrong to feel the way I feel about the world.  Lots of people and events cloud my mind about the sometimes shallow and cruel nature of the world. I get confused about what I should believe. Looking back about all the bad things that have happened to me it’s easy to become jaded and beat down.   I’m not one to stick to a belief if it doesn’t make sense, and “realism” is just so much easier.  It’s hard to be an optimist, but I can’t help that I want to believe in the good in people, that the world is a great and beautiful place.  It’s tough when time after time things don’t work out, and it wears on me. When people and expectations fall short. To keep believing when others say I should stop.

It’s Tough to be an Optimist, but I really wouldn’t have it any other way. I believe that at the end of the day I will be happier and others will be too. I have hope.

Value Added

I had mentioned a quote by Albert Einstien recently, “Try not to become a man of success but a man of value.” it is a quote that I’ve known for a while and been trying to apply it to my life in various ways.  Over the course of many years, I’ve sought to learn from this principle, bringing about growth in my life. Recently, when I have had to take personal growth into my hands that I can understand what it truly means.

I find it hard to separate value from success, in a way to measure how far I have come or how far I still need to go, success becomes a perfect measuring stick.  The value of something becomes how many times people have acknowledged it, how many awards I have won or how much I stand above the rest. I’ve played that game before, acquiring titles for the sake of gain the prestige of that comes along with it.  It’s unsustainable; it requires title after title to satiate the constant hunger created from emptiness. Frustration comes from my need for acknowledgment, falling short of where I think I ought to be, becomes devastating.    Needing to pull forward without actually contributing just because I seemly have the capability is stupid.  It leads to this growing idea that I am and must be better than the person next to me. Chasing after those types of acknowledgments doesn’t get me anywhere at the end of the day.  Success by itself only creates a temporary figure, something that will not stand on its own because there is nothing there to hold it up.

I finally understood the quote after some time of evaluating where I was at in life. I am currently not going to school, and I have a job that doesn’t require me to learn a lot of new things or progress outright. Other than story and world building in Dungeons and Dragons, this blog and doing various activities with my friends I don’t have a driving force asking me to progress. None of the things in my life have titles of note or some easy way to gauge how well I am doing and what the next logical step should be.  It becomes my choice, whether to grow or wither.  Now that may seem like a non-sequitur, but this time is where I realized that I will not always have something tangible to push my life along. Sure, there I still have goals (grad school and world domination included) but in this interim time, as I wait, it become my choice to add value to my life, to expand myself and all that I do further than I have ever reached before. To set down this foundation of growth and start back on the quest to enrichment.  This value is the solid building blocks in which I achieve. It is achieving something beyond just success but the creations of something that not done for a pat on the back but a higher purpose.  Giving myself fuel to grow into someone better, something a title can only do for appearances. It allows me to learn how to better myself so I can better the world around me, not just conquer it.

I am not saying that I will not seek awards, recognition, or titles, but ultimately I want to gain something greater, value, so that at the end of the day there will always be more worth for having gone through the journey, not just for the results. I hope to continue to add value, and things will change as I expand what I can do. Hopefully, in the future, I can become a man of value (with maybe some success).

When I Learned To Become A Phantom

When people ask me about my parents being divorced, I always let them know that I don’t remember them together and to me they have always been apart and it really should stay that way.  The farther apart from each other, they were, the better off I was. That is what begins this tale, that distance.  Though short at first, the distance between them could not be measured in actual miles but in the world apart they kept my sister living in.  Accommodations aside, sometimes it felt like changing into someone else over between place to place to cope with what I had and didn’t have.

I didn’t realize the effect it would have on me, though, other than being able to pack efficiently.  When it came to participating in life, I either had to make try and schedule my parent to take me to friends’ houses and practices,  or stay home.  Getting to and from some place was always an uphill battle, so staying at home became a preferred option to  arranging their schedules to coincide with all that we both wanted to do.  I eventually gave up on trying to do things outside of school and the occasional after school activity.  It was like being trapped in a prison made for myself. Bars made of glass so I see all that I was missing, but just can’t reach through it because I am afraid of what might take to get to the other side of them.

By the time I entered high school, my dad moved out thirty miles away from my hometown and things become more difficult.  I had gotten into a routine of going home from school where my day would end. Having half your world one place and a half in the other leaves me with two halves a singular life which is not enough. The reason I am writing these logistics is because of the effect it had on the other side of my life. My social life, and my life with my friends.

What ended up happening is that I learned not to invest in the life that I had.  Never reaching out to those around me, or trying to go to events. I would become someone who would be there but would fade into the background so I wouldn’t have to worry about the eventual let down that came with not being able to participate.  Eventually, I got in with a good group of friends and suddenly I was invited to go places and hang out with regularly, almost like Icarus, I flew towards to the sun. Not being able to see my friends on the weekends. Soon my moment of flight turned into a free fall as the invitations came less and less frequently.  Stuck with listening about all that I had missed. I got fed up with that and decided to at least get to know as many people as possible. Phasing in and out of groups, learning about a lot of people all at once, never having to worry about becoming too involved. Just involved enough. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all of my friends, I cherish them greatly but I just couldn’t stand being disappointed again.

It felt like I wanted to become a ghost, something that could be there and disappear at the same time. Never having to worry, and being able to survive in with some semblance of a normal school life. The bigger problem is when I got what I wished for and I had nothing to hold on to.  Never investing, and disappearing, only to be hurt by not existing in the first place.  Never being the first choice is the cost of living a life like that. Being known but not thought of, to say the least. Even though my friends have been the one consistent thing from moving back and forth, I couldn’t bring myself to fix myself so I could rely on them.  I hope to grow, and keep investing in my friends and to reach out and build back the friendships I could have had. Being something more than a phantom of who I could be, something tangible and solid to point to and rely on.

I know it sounds cheesy, but to all the people who I have had as my friends, now and from long ago, I love you all and the times we have had together and thank you for them be them grand or small. I am working on reaching out and staying involved.   So I hope to talk with you soon.

Inside The Heart Of Oblivion

I have pursued the essence of greatness for a large portion of my life. With no clear understanding of how I will achieve it, my heart and mind push me forward in the endless expanse of darkness hoping to achieve this obscure and nonspecific goal that, to be honest, is one of the few things that keep me up at night.  I can say that my singular greatest fear in life is this fear of oblivion. The idea that everything that I ever was and will be was destined to be lost into the analogs of time as generations pass forgetting my existence entirely.  It feels then that my life is only ever really just sand sitting on the shore. If I were to become a castle, in time, the walls would collapse and this seeming foundation I had laid down will be crushed and crumble underneath the waves of time as all sand does, becoming an indistinguishable part of the ocean deep. I want to make the castle of my legacy out of metal, stone, or crystal so I may, at least, have a chance to beat the test of time in which I am pitted against. Problems arise from this, I do not know the path I want my future and legacy to take. Lucius Annaeus Seneca’s quote describes this point perfectly ” If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.” Without direction, I am doomed to wallow in an indefinite expanse of the ocean of life,  drowning  trying to determine which way to the surface.  The other problem is that finding a direction, by no means guarantees my survival in this big world, only that I know the heading. What will happen, I am denied by the very heading that I choose.  Of course, I am getting ahead of myself, a great deal of pessimism is drawn from something I haven’t done yet. Where does this come from? I ask this to myself when I am faced with the existential crises about the where my hand in life will lead. Only hoping I can achieve one of the greatness Shakespeare spoke of long ago.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. ” – William Shakespeare

Now life has a cruel sense of humor, making me dance to this song to desire and admire greatness but has ridiculed me for trying to achieve it.  It started early on, though, this training that I was not the ones who would achieve anything.  Through the slight urging of my teachers at school, I understood that I among others would be left and forgotten.  Passed over so the best of us can move on.  By the time I had entered my middle school years, it was evident that some would be set to rise above others, at least, the teachers made sure we knew that. Unfortunately, those they raised up were placed upon the hunched back of those trying and praying that we would be graced with the opportunity of being able to look up at the spotlight above. Month after month, year after year the same people being rewarded, hoping soon it would be my turn to be recognized, but with each passing day, the unworthiness of my position seeped into my skin poisoning my mind.  Head to the floor, hoping to keep my sanity as my eccentric nature and the raw edges my personality were forged into something more suitable for their liking.  Stones in their path to step on.  I had become afraid of who I was, hiding so that even now the thought of someone knowing me in entirety terrifies me.  Things I had difficulties with, became amplified to represent who I was. My worth became what weaknesses were, and I could tell in eyes of my peers, it wasn’t much. I even believed what my teachers were showing us about where my position in life was. Reinforced over and over again, the chances to defend myself or grow was an endless struggle through the packed dirt of a beaten path.  I can tell you, that being in the same class with exactly the same people for years at a time only works for those people who are liked and are popular.  Never being able to change the image people had of me. Feeling like I was worth nothing, these things it ate away at me until there was nothing left. Learning to keep my head down so I wouldn’t have to suffer as much. My fear of oblivion  began to arise as I realized I was to be passed over and forgotten. In my heart, I felt my destiny was to become nothing, achieve nothing and slip out of the minds of those around me like a passing fad. All I wanted was someone to tell me that I would become something, that I was worth something… but that person never came.

I turned inward, finding solace in video games and anime, where meaning could be given and derived from the characters within.  Healing and new purpose began to arise, watching and reading diligently for the first time in my life. Heroes arose and showed me a different way of looking at things and as I entered high school I was given room to grow. To these characters I am eternally grateful, without them I would be still lost. Though never really being popular with teachers, I was at least acknowledged by my peers for knowing something, I was finally able to believe that I may have a chance in this world.  Building what I had hoped to be a world of stone for the tower to the heavens. Even now, I keep building without knowing where my plans will lead me. It is surprising to me as what I have become, an unraveling of myself that finally had room to see the light of day and grow.

I still have trouble feeling worthwhile, never asking for help because some part of me thinks I am not worth it. I am afraid that I am lost, not going to amount to anything and all of this wanting and moving towards that goal will be for naught. I can’t help but build and build this Tower of Babel, hoping to make it to the heavens. My goals are not without purpose. Wanting create give the world something more, something that will improve the lives of others. I want to relay the message that people can be worth something, and that the anyone one can achieve anything. I still stand by the statement I am not anyone special, but in that means, when I do achieve something, so can anyone else.  It is the same thing idea my boy scout troupe would say to me at the end of the night to get us to clean up (way back in the day before I left the boy scouts).  Leave a place better than I found it.  Slowly building creating the world bigger and better that before. I know it’s silly sometimes but I hope to create a lasting change that will fill this heart afraid of oblivion. I don’t know what fate has in store for me, but I can’t keep still and hope that something happens.  Do I fight against the fate that people have shown me, or do I set down my sails and travel into the unknown hoping to arrive someplace new?

I don’t know where I will be or what is in store, but this obsession with becoming something of worth will, at least, keep me moving forward.  I have hope, that I can, that I will, and that someday I will reach the heavens so I can reach down and help others to reach upwards too.

 

 

Recent Quiet Reflections

I have changed a lot in my life, to the point when looking back at a photos more recent friends comment about how I don’t look like the same person in the photos. Change has been important to me and its a continual struggle towards progress.

Moving towards goals in my life has led me to fill my time with great things. Friends, family, work and Dungeons and Dragons. I haven’t as much time to sit and reflect on the things in my life, and the things that are obvious problems in my life are taking a back seat to the progress I am making forward. This is both good and bad, good that the silent battles in my mind become less strenuous and easier to handle but bad because like my work is not done, the work ironically will never really be done.

It feels as if I am in the waiting room, hoping that my name gets called and greatness will happen, knowing full well there are only a set amount of tickets to the goes down in history show. In the next couple of months, I will have to make a decision about how I want to proceed with the next couple of year my life, what path I hope to choose or which path I will have open to me. I know it’s the calm before another storm, hopefully, next time I will know what to do when the water and winds come.

I just wanted to take this short post to thank you for those who have been reading and by no means am I going to stop. Things will change in what I write about, but I hope to keep pushing myself to write.

Absolution

Unlike most of these posts, this one has been one I have been meaning to write a while, but I hadn’t come to a resolution about it until recently. I also have been debating how much I should divulge through these posts. I want to push myself to open up more and do what I can to live transparently.

The power is in the pardon, is what my dad was telling me for weeks as I waited for my car to arrive. About three weeks after I had signed all the paperwork for it, I finally received my car. Now, for me there was no issue, I knew that there was no ill intent behind my car not arriving, and forgiving the dealership was easy. The problem is, those words stuck with me. Resounding and reverberating in my head, I wasn’t really prepared for what they would soon mean to me.

I really don’t enjoy being angry. Fortunately, I was born with patience and a long fuse. Even when I get angry, I am quick to come down from it. I even learned a Buddha quote for the occasion  “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

It was weird then over the last couple of months had this growing fire ignite inside me. These sporadic situations, making me scorch internally. A hot intensity that I knew had dredged up history along with it. I found myself burning for things that I thought I had moved past.

Now my frustrations were founded on the external things happening.  My life has been taking unexpected detours that have been throwing me off. I could not have possibly seen where things would have been going six months ago. With breaking up with my girlfriend after a couple months of hardship and tumultuousness. Being angry with how the world didn’t change fast enough after I graduated. Being frustrated with work and my new accommodations.  That is where the first ring came though, forgiving all that was and all that had happened. My heart had felt lighter and felt like I right side of things for the first time in a while.

Then came to what I thought was the largest piece of this pissed off puzzle. My past that the anger has simply decided to dredge up when I was perfectly content to leave it where it was.  All the bad things that happened to me and all the mistreatments I had overcome over the years started to burn like an ache in my side.  Being in close proximity with family and the way family works brings out the things long forgotten. How could these have come back to hurt me, I thought I had taken care of the wound long ago. But again, the ring came and I forgave it, moving forward as to what I can do with the future instead of rehashing the past.

Then came the mystery guest, someone who I didn’t know was playing this game. This one was by far the hardest because I had to forgive myself. I am hard on myself, harder on myself than anyone else.  For me, it’s easy to forgive others, but when I look myself in the mirror, I know have to live with the decisions I have made. The small things that eat away at me. Things like, how can I have let myself fall so far, if I was only stronger maybe things would have turned out differently. How could I not be angry, how was I suppose to forgive the single entity that can really be held responsible.  I have to let go, not hold onto the burning coal.  I have forgiven myself for all the failures and shortcomings. I certainly know others are not perfect, so why do I expect myself to not make mistakes. The final ring came, and I forgave myself.

Over the last couple of months, I realized I say sorry too much for who I am and what I do. Then after reading and contemplating it a solution, what I realized I always really meant is to say Thank You. Thank You for being there, thank you all for allowing me to be me around you. Thank You all for being patient and all the memories and Thank You for letting me learn from my mistakes.

Thank You.