Some days my subconscious whispers of doubt change pitch into a screeching chorus making it impossible to deny their existence. What makes it that much worse is that these doubts do not take a solid form which I can reason my way through. No, these doubts are just an internal uncertainty about something "perhaps" gone wrong.
It is that "perhaps" that makes the entire affair so maddening. "Perhaps" this is all just in my mind and everything is fine. "Perhaps" there is a calamity of my own making lying in wait just around the corner. "Perhaps" I am too harsh on people. "Perhaps" I am too trusting. I am uncertain whether or not I am right or wrong, whether or not my future is bright or bleak.
Life moves forward even though I am unsure of the correct path to take. I fear that some morning, in the indistinct future, I will remember back to this exact moment and recognize it as the point where it all went wrong. So what is the right decision to make? My instinct is to stop and get my bearings. On days like today I just want to stay still. Yet my mental protest for a breather, a time out, just a minute to catch up is futile in the onward march of life. Life is relentless; it waits for no man. And yet what is the alternative?
Eventually life’s march ceases and at that moment, universally, we all desperately want it to go forward regardless the outcome, regardless of whether or not we are ready for it. I know many whose clocks have stopped moving forward. It is this fear of realizing that when my clock has been stilled that I will have wasted time and opportunities of which I should have known better. Yet it is that contradiction which makes me waste time and opportunities. Irony is a cruel concept.
I am a coward in that I cannot put on a brave face and meet whatever fate deals. Instead I plan and plot alternatives and worst case scenarios. Planners don’t live life; they fear it. I look back at the decision tree that is my past and recognize the nodes where I should have done differently.
The cruelest irony is that I am reasonably happy where I am, but I fear that I may make a decision which will push me off this path. However, this lucky path is the result of so many poorly considered decisions made on mornings just like this one. So far I can only claim that it is dumb luck that has gotten me here. Will this luck continue? Will today’s stupid decision yield a happiness I could have never envisioned?
In my childhood days, I cursed the luck that placed me in my family. I cursed my broken home, my father’s philandering ways, my mother’s paranoid delusions, and my family’s limited means. More than the material goods of my better off friends, I envied the apparent emotional stability of those homes. I grew up finding fault with my surroundings and determined to do better. With decades now to review, I realize that my upbringing, while not ideal, was good enough.
So the crux of my petrified inactivity this morning is to wonder if I am still doing "good enough." The cruelty is that I won’t find out for many years to come. So I have no defense against the screaming chorus of today. I can only strike forward and hope I have done that which will lead to some indeterminate happiness.
In the end I revile myself for succumbing to a malaise which cannot be solved. I blame myself for taking timid steps forward into uncertainty where I see others boldly leaping into the void.
A little bit of Mischief... 