Thursday, December 15, 2011

Restless Breathe

I'm currently unable to sleep due to projectile coughing. I never knew I had so much phlegm, or that it was so aerodynamic.

Anyways, as I sit on the couch drinking tea with lemon, ginger & honey listening to Wayne Brady's Change Is Gonna Come, I can't help but reflect on my past actions over the course of between this month and the last...

After finally freeing myself from the dramatic grip of People I Used To Know, my life has started to fall into a comfortable rhythm, replete with awesome girlfriend moments, and the never-ending job-hunt-hustle.

But I can't help the anxiety in my chest, as if the other shoe is about to drop.

I've gotten so used to flinching, to being ready for that slap that Life has dished out to me so often. Maybe, in some way, I've become institutionalized to being a "survivor", to being the type of person who just trudges through the muck because he's never experienced true freedom. Freedom from the fear that this is never going to last...

Don't get me wrong! I don't plan to self-sabotage. I just can't help shaking those old cobwebs draped across my closet rafters, tucked back with all the skeletons of past romances, and corpses of rotted friendships.

Y'know though, despite all this uncertainty, I still feel. I can still enjoy the journey that life has dragged me on -- often unwillingly! -- from SEVEN near-death experiences to infinite nights spent in philosophical contemplation.

And in this phlegmatic night, I wonder. Have I done well at being a person? Have I been honest? Have I been loyal? Have I been compassionate, understanding and true to myself? The scrapes of my past are scarring enough that I'll never stop questioning. I'll never be completely at ease with who I am, because too often I've been stuck in that dark place where there's nothing but the shadowed thoughts in my head whispering myself across a slippery-slope to No Man's Land.

Bah! That's fucking dramatic. And depressing. I should just Man-Up; shift my ballsack and get back to the hard work I know I'm good at.

But see? Can't even let my guard down for a paragraph before I shut that shit down like a shart in a crowded room. (Okay, that was maybe too graphic.)

I forgive myself of the sins I've committed. I forgive myself for the actions I've taken that I'm not proud of, and for sometimes choosing, deliberately, not to be the bigger, better, and more decent person. I forgive myself for those flaws that creep up towards the surface like so many of California's fault-lines.

And I don't ask forgiveness from others. I don't expect it. I already know that's a waste of time. I've already seen the delusional cruelty emanating from the hearts of those who've hurt me... exes, ex-friends, ex-teammates, ex-whatever. It's not worth the wasted breath to think that they'd forgive me for fighting back against their ignorant hurtfulness. And I'm too proud to ever give in to bullies. I'm not a damn kid anymore. Never again.

That's the conflict. I'm a scrapper with the heart of a romantic. I hate fighting, but I'd be the first one to throw a punch at someone who said something Unforgivable. I'd be the first person to throw down when shit's getting real. Why? Because I used to just take it. Because I've already taken so much. Because I've had to swallow so much bullshit that I just can't take it anymore.

I refuse to back down. I refuse to capitulate. I refuse to be silent and suffer, not when the most important things in my life are on the line

So where does that leave me?

I have no idea.

I guess it leaves me on my living room couch at nearly 1 in the morning drinking tea, listening to Wayne Brady. And goddamnit, my change is gonna come! I'll never stop fighting for that life I promised to myself and my lover.


1 footnotes:

aspergum said...

For vague anxiety, drinking less to no caffeine helps.