Tag: expectations

  • That Nudge

    Life creeps up on us when we think we’re being smart and sophisticated by making elaborate plans to achieve things we assume is important. Then suddenly, the most subtle nudge jolts us out of that self-indulgent stupor and we realise that everything we were planning for was actually trivial and pointless.

    I recently begrudgingly settled into the assumed reality that life the way I know it is the way it will be until the end. I assumed the foetal position ready to be a martyr. I was ready to sacrifice my needs and desires for the stability and security that those around me would benefit from. But from a place I least expected, I was jolted out of my staid reality and infused with fearful hope that the fat lady is not yet ready to sing.

    I had planned in detail how I was going to explain to my daughter that she needed to be strong by herself without a mother. The arrangements I would need to make for my care should I reach an infirm age. My explanation to my estranged daughter that I had to simply make a very difficult choice in utilising my limited resources to help her sister recover from the trauma of a dysfunctional environment rather than continuing the ten year struggle with her mother to maintain a significant role in her life.

    And then the nudge came in a most unassuming form. A nudge that has unsettled my idyllic loneliness and forced me to peer out of my shell at a world that I had long grown to despise for its hypocrisy, betrayal and double standards. Part of me is whimpering in silent protest at the changes that that nudge is prompting in me, but most of me is smiling like a newly toothed baby assuming that the whole world is ready to smile with me.

    By I’m a decaying pragmatist at heart, so such euphoria will be tampered with reality no matter my romantic inclinations. My stubborn cynicism will endure a while longer until the reality of this hope is realised, because I know all too well that such hope can be fleeting, and such promise can be empty. Yet the fool in me remains hopeful nonetheless, and no matter what the outcome, I will spit in the face of futility and laugh at the fact that I hoped again, despite the gravest oaths I’d taken never to succumb to such a frivolity ever again.

  • A healthy dose of self-loathing is usually sufficient to kill any hope you may harbour inside. But, in the process of trying to convince yourself that you’re worthless, take a moment to observe your insincerity. It’s unnatural for any human to sincerely believe that they are worthless. It goes against the very survival instinct that is hard-wired into our reptilian brains. So instead, the same energy we could have applied constructively to alter our reality into one that is more palatable, we apply it to subdue that survival instinct because along with it comes the torture of hope and expectations. But with that comes a demand for trust…trust of similarly flawed humans that we use as a yardstick to measure our own worth, without realising that the yardstick itself is defective. 

  • Sometimes we sacrifice what we need to give happiness to others, be they loved or not. But when we expect something in return, it means that it wasn’t a sacrifice to begin with, but rather an exaggerated hope. 

  • Who needs to dream?

    So it’s time to give up on another
    dream…or maybe more accurately – dreams, since so many of them have been
    inextricably intertwined in my latest halucinations. 2010 is definitely a year
    worth remembering and forgetting all at the same time.
    The lows…recovering from the fire that wiped out the cottage, and the mess and
    financial havoc that went with it…let alone the personal strife and
    trauma…the accident with the beemer and again, the financial havoc that went
    with it. Then there was the job front that showed me my rear end…so I started
    out 2011 unemployed, and seemingly unemployable since a matric certificate from 22 years ago apparently trumps 20 years of exhaustive effort, amazing achievements and solid experience in an area of IT that most people suck at.
    Once again being estranged from my eldest daughter because of the twisted bitchiness of her deranged mother that thinks that it’s a sure fire way to get me to take her back. Sick bitch. And how could I leave out being dumped a million times over because of my undesirable level of social unacceptability rather than because I’m undesirable. So that confirms that I’m supposedly unemployable and unmarry-able if the latest opinions of me are to be deemed authoritative. Not that it differs much from previous opinions that were offered in this regard.
    So the highs would be…the untimely death of my ex-wife…unashamedly a positive event in my life, only to leave me with one of the greatest challenges in her wake as well. Pun intended. My younger daughter now living with me so that I can fend off wave after wave of ridiculous accusations from her grandparents about abuse, neglect, kidnapping and who knows what else…followed by bare-fanged ingratitude and venom from people I always suspected of insincerity but assumed the best of anyway. So much for the highs…launched an online business that has yet to make a single sale (other than my own purchase) in more than 4 months! Yet another financial disaster.
    And so it continues…and now, to give up on the dreams that I shaped around this home in which I invested heavily in time, money and a lot of hard work and sweat! But without the job, there can be no house to call my own, and so, as before, just as I grow comfortable or optimistic about establishing a really homely environment for myself and my family, it’s got to go, and I need to start again. Only this time, I have no inclination to start again…only a need to curl up and die and hope that that will be the end of it. But such good fortune does not await me…it would be too easy.
    And suicide is not an option either…so here goes nothing…again. I’m starting to feel like that tree in the forest that falls and no one hears…which makes its fall irrelevant and inconsequential.

  • Suicide of a Romantic

    What is it that stops us from affirming others while they’re alive, as opposed to waiting for their demise before singing their praises? Perhaps we’re afraid of being held accountable for our kind thoughts which denies us that ever convenient exit of ‘I knew it’ or ‘I told you so’ or ‘I should’ve known better’? Or maybe we lack the belief in our own virtues and would rather not have people peering so closely that they may see in us what we despise about ourselves?

    Maybe it’s just that we’re so afraid of being hurt, that we’ll do anything to prevent others from getting too close, so that we don’t ever give them a view of how much they mean to us? That would give them far too much power to hurt or manipulate us. So instead, we create our defenses and do it so well that we end up believing that how we present ourselves to others is all we have to offer.

    Heaven forbid we should live a romantic life. It is possible you know. To live a romantic life and still remain functional and practical about all life’s challenges. But it’s easier to fit in with the jaded crowds than to be true to ourselves, because the risk of failure is too great a source for potential embarrassment. POTENTIAL embarrassment. But the reality of the joy that we’ll experience if we lived romantically now will forever escape us because of our fear of embracing what we desire, lest it be stripped away from us in an untimely fashion.

    So we set ourselves up for heartache and failure, all the while pretending to be comforted by our superficial success in worldly endeavours, ensuring that not another living soul will ever see the romantic fool in us for fear of being mocked or ridiculed for that which is closest to our hearts. So fear drives us to suppress the romance, and embellish the facade so that it becomes the reality of our existence, when in fact it’s the reality of our deception. Sad, isn’t it?

  • My True Worth

    I used to openly discuss my income with people close to me. It was purely an academic discussion on my part, but was often misconstrued by even my closest family members as being an indication of my views about my worth relative to their own. Too often we base the value of our self worth on how much we earn or what level of comfort and luxury we’re able to provide for ourselves and those we’re responsible for. I don’t discuss my income anymore.

    Being unemployed for almost four months now is slowly but surely eroding my self esteem and my optimism. I grapple with the idea of whether or not I’m worthy to continue to receive the mercy and blessings that I’ve had in my life despite my struggles, or have I run out of credit to claim any more from that source? I’ve felt less than inspired for a long time now to write anything, with yesterday having spawned the first post in almost a month.

    My idealism persists, but the overwhelming need for affirmation from the one I love threatens to smother her as well. I would not normally need so much affirmation because my ability to provide a comfortable home and life for those around me would provide me with the sense of significance that my soul needs. But with my resources steadily running out, and downsizing looking like a very real possibility, it’s difficult to keep focused or even productive. I’m not even sure what the point of this post is.

    Am I worthy? I hope I am. I guess if I don’t believe that I am, then there’d be very little reason for anyone else to see my worth either. There’s such a thin line between believing in yourself and being an egotist. I need to remind myself what I’m passionate about without waiting for someone else to rekindle those sparks for me. Most often no one wants to take on that responsibility because it demands that they be there to support you through the process as well. Life is too demanding and often too damaging for most of us to allow anyone the capacity to take on the burdens of another.

    My worth cannot be defined by people, because people are fickle and selfish by nature. Nor can my worth be defined by my income because that is never guaranteed, nor always consistent. My worth is not defined by my friends or my family because they’re not in a position to judge my intentions or sincerity, only my actions. So my worth can only truly be judged by the One who sustains me, and in a smaller way, by me. My sense of self worth can only be established through selfless service to those around me. Whether my contribution is appreciated or not is not what defines me. But that I contribute, sacrifice and enrich other’s lives willingly is what had always brought joy to me, and has always given me reason to sleep peacefully at night, even if spurned by those that I serve the most.

    So am I worthy? Yes, I think I am. What am I worthy of? Well, that’s a topic for another day’s philosophical musings.