I Don't Think I Want It

This Post's Soundtrack

Despite teaching at a childrens' hospital, rehearsing a clown piece for a local cabaret, and working on two plays (a Jabberwocky adaptation and a one person show) I've been phenomenal about telling myself I'm not actually up to anything. This has been another running theme for me in the continuing adventures of "Trying to navigate my late twenties." I'm certain it's another hamstringing mythology I keep intact for the sake of survival. So let's examine it, shall we? Sure, yeah. Time to get forthcoming.

Of course I'm marginally proud of my successes, that's without question. Even so, I typically chalk those successes up to being at the right place at the right time. The world, the universe, energy, etc--now THAT'S what went right. Nothing I did. When I turn my eyes inward, I don't see a heap of things to be proud of. More often than not, I focus on all the judgments and the 'wrongs'. I see a series of missteps with a handful of flukes thrown in for good measure. Why, though? Why do I continue to keep this up? Why do others do this? What the EFF, mang?

I'm lonely in a crowd. Considering that my mom was a single working mother who HAD to spend hours upon hours at work in order to support two children, my brother and I typically didn't see her until the evenings. On weekdays this meant coming home from school and playing outside with a buddy or parking in front of the Nintendo for a few hours until our Mom came home. I'd begun to develop this idea that I was more or less a Free Agent. I could do what I wanted, a freedom I was not used to at the time (I was seven or so,) but this also meant I was on my own if there was a crisis of some kind. For example, as children my brother and I spent a TON of time in the break room at Bookshop Santa Cruz, as we would go to work with our Mom on weekends. One day, we were in the stock room attempting to copy the SWEET MARTIAL ARTS MOVES from a favorite game. So mid spin-kick, I stumbled over my feet and fell into a pile of halogen lights with a raucous crash. I was horrified. I had no idea what to do. I was sitting there crying in a pile of broken glass and powder. After a few terrified moments, my mother and some other staffers poured into the stock room to see what had happened. I was fine, but wildly embarrassed and fairly scared I'd be...like...prosecuted for breaking a ton of lights. To my surprise, everyone was just making sure I was okay. They didn't really care about the lights. I couldn't understand that. I thought this was MY problem, and I'D have to fix it. As a matter of fact, I still find it hard to believe that people have my back or honestly care about my wellbeing.

This sense of being alone--or better yet--the sense that I'm not even really there has stuck around like an unfortunate growth for years upon years. As I got older, I unconsciously tempered it into a sense of being 'different'. I knew I'd had a separate experience of life than others, but instead of allowing that to bring me closer to people, ALL of which have had different life experiences, I used it as something to hide behind. I didn't allow people in because it let me keep the 'upper hand' of being strange. I never knew that I was actually the one losing out. In reality, I didn't trust other people to understand where I was coming from, or what I felt, or...really...the first thing about me. I never considered myself a worthwhile player in my life, or anyone else's. It really didn't MATTER what the Free Agent did. I figured I'd slip through the cracks and not be counted in the end anyway, so what was the use? Really? Things just HAPPEN.

They just happen.

Wait-

No, that's not right.

I thought the state of the world was 'powerlessness in the face of overwhelming chaos' and I was a genius for being the only one who knew. For being on the inside. Only much later did I realize how untrue that was--but part of the damage had been done. And it's still there. "If the world is unpredictable chaos, then I'm going to hang back and rely on things I can DO. Places where I can still express some remote agency. I'll gather together a handful of comforts and be satisfied with them until someone discovers my hiding spot."

UGH. Just...ew.

I don't know how many others have felt this way, but it's really not fun. You end up disliking alot of people and rolling your eyes at the world. You cross your arms and stamp your feet, whining about how the NORMIES don't realize how messed up the world REALLY is. You complain about how nobody seems to truly grip their insignificance, and your prize is the most brittle sense of invincibility one can manage. Yes, hiding was a deep survival instinct for me. It was necessary. With the kidnapping, my upbringing had a brand of danger that some other folks haven't experienced. It's unfortunate that it took place at such a formative time for me...but like other folks my age, I'm now in a place where I can look at the why aspect of who I am. And hopefully while I'm at it, I can do some good.

So, to anyone who has felt the way I do--I encourage you to give the world another chance. If you think you KNOW something, dig deeper. Think harder. Get up. See who you are NOW, because that changes every single instant. Experience beats assumption EVERY TIME. Why not try some experiments? I guarantee you, your limits have only expanded. You're a wealth of life, don't wait for permission to express that. Allow yourself to accept your own good. Obsessing over your failures will make you repeat them. Being authentic will make you fly. Accept the well of power that you have.

Why?

Because it's fucking unlimited.

Much love--and I've got your back,

Dak

OH SNAP, WE GOT SOME BULLET POINTS?

•  Just...just do yourself a favor and read this. I love discussions that folks aren't normally willing to have. Especially conversations about my favorite subject.
• DmC. The new Devil May Cry game? Okay, so it's totally polarizing fans. I have to write about this sometime.
•  WALKING DEAD WALKING DEAD WALKING DEEEAAARRRGGGGHHHHH