I’m not really sure why this is happening. Who is? The endless wonder of what comes next is truly perplexing, and frustrating at the same time. We are conditioned to listen and obey. We are expected to know what comes next. We live our lives differently; both reactively and proactively, but we typically have a boob-tube to help us understand what to do next.
I myself have become a fanboy to the political telecast we’ve been conditioned to. I’ve spent my days listening to Poloncarz, Cuomo, Trump and the rest of the players provided. I’ve spent my time doing my own research into the data, piecing together bits from “experts,” of data never seen.
I’ve done my jumping jacks. I’ve done my breathing. I’ve done my yoga. I’ve done my work. I’ve done my laundry. I’ve done my soul searching.
I’ve still got nothin.
I continue to run into a wall of a feeling of “who’s in charge?” I continue to run into a wall of “when will this end?” It’s scary to know that there are things that go beyond our control. It’s scary to know there are narratives to stories we see that we’ll never know. It’s scary to know there are people out there who want to harm others.
It’s also scary to not know.
It’s scary to not know who we really are without the roles we play. It’s scary to not know what we’re really good at when our tasks are taken away. It’s scary to not know what we’re capable of when our tools are taken away. I’ve spent a lot of time categorizing my mind-fears into 2 different types of fears, thanks to Russell Brand’s podcast.
“Neurotic Fear OR Logical Fear”
I’ve long spent my days as someone who feels fairly brave in most circumstances. I don’t “fear” many things consciously. My “fear” comes in the form of doubt, lack of faith, or even from my own gifts, like my creativity or my love of the unbelievable . I create a lot of my own fears in my own mind. I’m actually very good at it. It’s why I believe being a writer is something I am meant to do because I enjoy creatively setting up fears to help motivate myself. It also helps in my career to empathize with others’ fears.
When I officially became an alcoholic is unclear. When I realized being an alcoholic wasn’t good for me is. I spent a lot of time creating and facing irrational neurotic fears that I was not only creating in my mind, but creating in my real world. I began creating a life for myself that was not what anyone else had created for me but myself.
I had created a world of fear.
So for me, this world we live in now is not that “scary.” I’ve lived this way before, be it at my own cost and demise. It wasn’t until I just saw a social media post that made me realize this world is still both logically and neurotically scary to other people.
Just a few minutes ago I saw a post about a kid around my age who has died, and not of the assumed cause. I do not know the individual, so I don’t want to talk about their situation in detail. All I know is I noticed suicide prevention mentioned in congruence.
This leads me to yet again revisit the reasoning of why I even tried to start this blog. I do feel a responsibility to help others. I do feel a responsibility to tell the truth of my stories. I do feel a responsibility to absorb other people’s tales, both good and bad, to help them feel as if they aren’t alone. The devil plays dirty tricks on all of us, and one of the main things he can do is make you feel that you are not worth being alive, and that’s just never true.
Everyone is worth more than social media thoughts and prayers. Nobody’s story should end at their own hand. It’s sad to know that some of us end up having no fear to take our own life. It’s sad to know that they lost the privilege of having a body. In a very strange way, and I mean this in the least insensitive way, seeing another human comrade fall at their own hand makes me grateful.
Grateful solely because I was able to escape that dirty trick of the devil. I know that I am here for a reason, at least for now, and I am grateful for that.
