Saturday, October 14, 2006

A history of good enough

It is very interesting to me how sometimes in life you hear how you can not do things. I find it odd since the person saying it is probably the last one who should be, and this includes ourselves. An interesting observation I once knew that for some reason I keep forgetting; When you are in a position of strength people flock to you, trying to feed off of it, when you are in a position of weakness and look for someone to help you regain strength? The people you felt you can depend on flee, and others shock you. In my life, I can think of 3 who have said this to me too many times, and I think it is about time I said I do not agree.

The first is my father, the war hero with no specific story to tell on why he is, but god damn it he is. As far as I know, he never fired a weapon, stormed the hill, or saved the whatever. But he is the war hero. I will never measure up. I will never understand. I can never do anything important enough to be half the man he is. I recall gorwing up, being threatened if I did not do the little bullshit we make kids do, was never please, was always an order. Military don't ya know. He was never home, was never a kind word, was never a role model, was never a father. I dispise that I still carry a stigma on this, I dispise that maybe, somewhere in my head, I sabatoge myself because the easiest way to get along with him is to let him feel right. I do not know if I can break the cycle, but for the forst time I know how that relationship works. Also, for the first time, I can say out loud, I carried your weak ass through a fucking divorce, I have never asked you for a thing in my adult life except respect me, and if it is not there, Neither am I.

The second is me. Sounds funny but it is true, I push myself down, I fear doing more, doing better, doing something successfully. I take it to a point, and run. I take it to a point, and freeze, I know 200x what I allow others to see, I can do more than anyone on this planet knows. Somewhere in my head, I revert to the 6 year old who was left behind with his face in the dirt. Somewhere in my head I do not know how to fight back or really wish for once someone else would for me. Just once. Call it abandonment issues, call it repressed feelings, but for some reason I am so much better at encouraging others, bringing the best out of others, than I am with myself. For some reason I fight for others, and let myself take the beating. I used to train door men telling them if some is to take the hit it is me, you prevent the second one. And I always took the hit. I am realizing the only real person who can say I can not is me, and I refuse to ever accept it again. No. More.

The third is tricky, they say it when they are stressed, and sadly I gave this power to them, mostly because they said they would not abuse it. Revalations are very hard when they are close to the heart, when they are right in front of you. Especially when they mean so much. But god damn it, no. more. I can see my reality and it is no longer through my eyelids.

If I have to scream it from skyscrapers, If I have to do a media buy and say it on national TV. If I have to take it on the chin, it will no longer be hit the dirt, wipe my face, and pretend like nothing hurts. I am sick of hiding, I will not. I am sick of pretending like everything rolls off me like I am scotch guarded, I am not. Mostly I am sick of being told what I can do and what I can not, so stick around and see what I can do, or hide and believe that its nothing. I will no longer be the one who is afraid, I will no longer be the one who lets the indoctrination of my parents rule me, I leave that for those who can not.

Today, Tommorrow, I can.

2 Comments:

At 12:15 AM, Blogger La Gringa said...

Hey Colin! I read this a while back on bloglines and it didn't have the picture. Is that you?

You are so cute! Love those blue eyes.

 
At 12:36 PM, Blogger Liar_Liar said...

Thank you La Gringa, yes it is me.

 

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