Damaged Brightness

Over my long weekend off I had a lot of moments where I was confronted by my own ridiculousness. Usually those moments occurred after I had watched something inspirational or educational on TV. I saw a lot this past weekend that really made me think about social justice and morality. I saw things that made me think about me and my place in the world. I drank too much.

I wonder who I am. I don’t really know the person I’ve become. I think I’m having a mid-life crisis without the purchase of a muscle car.  I’ll be 35 years old but I still feel 25 in most situations. And yet at other times I feel 80 years old and knowledgeable beyond my years. Either way I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think anybody really does, but for some reason, those people seem able to take on new challenges and get through them. I’m stymied.

My teachers used to say to my parents that I was extremely bright, that if I applied myself I could be really successful. It’s too bad I have no idea what it I am supposed to be successful at. I do enjoy writing but the odds of actual success seem slim and getting slimmer every year, every day. I wonder what those teachers saw in my work or actions or behavior.

I think I’m possessed with too much self-doubt which leads me to avoid any tough situation. Hell, I’m scared of most situations and have an extremely hard time getting though them. I sweat. I sweat at the thought of anything complicated. I used to have anxiety attacks in little league. I’d get this needle and pins feeling shooting all over my back and was probably close to breaking out in nervous hives. I was sweating last night in bed as I tried to force myself not to be so nervous and, “cowboy up”, as they say. But then I think about all those dead cowboys.  So I sweat.

It’s a scary thing not to be sure about things. I mean, as a rational and decent human being, I know that “if”, is the middle word in life and nothing is certain. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m far too much of a pragmatist to actually enjoy anything. I break everything down, piece by piece, examining every part and never actually enjoying the whole. I then decide not to bother at all and the next thing I know I’ve let everything get out of control and I’m panicked and calling people to help me get the boot off my car.  

It’s a shame I can recognize what the problems are, but do not have the tools to fix them. I’m like an armless auto-mechanic. I can tell you what’s wrong by sound, but don’t have the ability to fix it.  I’m not saying I’m totally helpless. Obviously I have the wherewithal to put these thought’s down and publish them on my blog, that doesn’t scare me too much. It’s a safe distance and I’m only slightly worried about what others will think about it. And I’m usually half in the bag when people do talk about it to me about it and by that point I’m very brave.