The Bull Speaks!

The title is a good one. The “#1” is there because there will indeed be more post like this, so why struggle with new titles? Never fear, though. There will not be a long string of these at present. Your sanity is safe for now.

I have been many things in this Life so far. Many. The most important has been my roll as a Father. My most trivial was likely my role as a Primary School Janitor while making extra cash for Spring classes at Tri-County Tech. There were roles I was proud of, and roles I kept hidden. There was even the role of School Teacher I wish I had fought to make real.

There remains, however, one role I feel I was born to play. The role of Writer. This is what I was meant to do - day in, day out. To date though, this blog is the closest I’ve been to an actual writing job or to being called a successful writer.

As you can see, I am no writer - despite my desires.

So why not? Why am I not doing what I want most to do?
The excuses are endless. Some have good ‘meat’ to them, like being too busy with my “day job” and too tired at night. Once I could no longer work I had the excuses of “pain and long recovery”. (Hell, I’m still mightily screwed up on the physical level.) All sound reasons. All both valid and true.

But the real reason I am not a Writer is this: My entire Life I have seen only the possible bad endings to my endeavors. I can never recall even once saying “This will work!” or even a simple “I just might win!“.
I’m very serious here. I have never once, even in my early childhood, allowed myself to believe that any end result - when it really mattered - could possibly be anything other than the worst possible result for me. Seriously. Mom and I talked about this again just yesterday. She made the point that it had been a part of my personality since pre-school days.

Isn’t that odd? I have absolutely no confidence in Fate/the Gods/what-have-you ever turning me a winning hand when that hand could make a difference in my Life. It has taken me quite some time to recognize this “thinking error”. (I’m nearly 43 years old.) And even though I am now very aware of it I am still at its mercy. Here is an example of what I mean…

1. 1) I am totally confident that given a firearm - any firearm - I could hold my own in a shooting match. Even after the damage done to my spine. I may not win, but I would not go home embarrassed either. Winning or losing a shooting match is of no consequence in the long run.
2. 2) I have my Social Security Disability hearing coming up on the 2^nd of February. This hearing will determine if I am awarded my claim or if I will remain a financial burden on my wife and the financial equivalent of a “dead-beat-dad” to my older children and ex-wife. This is hugely important point in what remains of my Life. And I clearly see my claim being dismissed despite my medical problems and records thereof. Failure for me.

So, I worry myself sick. Physically sick. Tormented by visions and dreams that show me being demeaned and denied.

Now you can see - perhaps better than me - why I am not doing that which I would most love to do. Writing.

In fact, if you do have some idea of what connections are fouled in my brain I’d appreciate a note explaining it. You see, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire Life right now - even with the pain and disabilities. I’d like nothing more than to put my doubts, and fears of failure and ruin, behind me and enjoy some of my life having a measure of Peace of Mind. I owe that much to my kids, to Lady Beth, and I owe it mostly to myself - no matter how selfish that may sound.
Omar out.  

Related posts

• No related posts.

Tags: 1 Comment