This week's post has little to do with writing. I'm mostly feeling anxious, so looking for a little catharsis. Even I, the great and mighty Gord, need a shoulder to lean on from time to time. It helps to be capable of getting by with imaginary shoulders.
I've got a lot to be grateful for. I grew up in a middle class family in the United States of America, one that's more functional than average. I'm intelligent, well-fed, and have a great job. I'm safe and I'm sober.
I'm also lonely, on medication for depression, and falling short of my potential. I'm a fast learner without a mentor, a great listener without a speaker, a problem-solver without a problem. I think I was born to be a priest, but that's a problem when I'm sans a church.
My struggle really is silly. Sure, I was the middle child in a household of seven, least-relatable and often-overlooked. But there's a lot of serenity there that most people aren't privileged to. Sure, I was the subject of some bullying pretty early on. But even if it made me shy, it made my skin more than thick enough to cope with adult life. Sure, I've only ever been blessed with one relationship and it only lasted half a year, but it was rich and taught me confidence and my own limits. Every one of these clouds is as comfortable as it is ominous. There's as much to be grateful for as there is to complain about.
Still, we live in a society that pressures us to be great. Great in terms of fortune; fortune favors the bold, and I ain't bold. I'm quiet and kind and lazy. I like to play and eat and sleep and let the ones who want to go faster pass me by. Even without the external pressure, there's something in me that wants to persevere, to always be making progress. The drive that allowed our species to survive, I think, the genetic wiring that tells us that we die when we stop progressing.
I want a girlfriend, I want respect, I want acknowledgements of adequacy. These aren't things that come to those who simply wait, but waiting is what I'm best at. It's what I'm comfortable doing. So to get what I want, I need to get out of my comfort zone.
I'm not afraid of hard work. I grew up on a farm, I know what it means to work hard. I can do it, I've proven it. But it's not pleasant, and if something's not pleasant, I won't do it unless I know the effort will be worth it. If it were a marshmallow test, I'd pass. The thing is, I can't buy the idea that the work society suggests I do will yield the marshmallows they claim it will. The issue isn't that my gratification is delayed. The issue is that there's no guarantee of gratification.
There's not a lot to take away from this; only a sense of my primary obstacle. I realize that certain risks could lead to a better situation, should I win their gambles. But if I don't take the gamble, I get to keep playing, and I love playing. So it's a choice of: sacrifice playtime for a chance at greater rewards, or refuse to ante up and have my guaranteed contentment. It's not as black and white as that, in reality, but that's how I perceive it. The obstacle is overcoming that perception.
Still, there are other factors that interfere with this. We live in a society that's 'in the black.' While we still have lots of problems, the world is in a better place than it's ever been: infant mortality is down, disease and hunger are on the back foot, arts and culture are thriving. There's nothing I can do well that someone out there can't do better. I can't get by without me, but the world can. That fact feeds my complacency.
I think I'm alright going through life without being all that special. Maybe it's a reward, or at least a respite, from some super-difficult past life or something. If that's the case, though, I wish I were more capable of enjoying this.
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