The next time you hear someone say things will get better, run for it.
My dad raised me to believe things never magically get better. In this life, you have to work for the things you want. Life's a struggle, a fight we face every day. You will lose some battles. You will inevitably fall. Hardship will be felt, and how we deal with the negatives will ultimately define who we are. It's easy being there when the good times are rolling. But when things get rough, we find out what kind of men we really are. And as long as we keep plugging away, things will turn around. It's always darkest before dawn.
He's old school, that father of mine. Blue collar. Much wiser than I give him credit for. Hell, there are times I think he can see the future.
And I'm starting to think he's dead wrong on this one.
When life knocks you down, you get right back up, get yourself together and keep moving forward. But what if the hits keep coming? What if things keep piling up and every single day is just a little worse than the one before?
At what point do we give up? When do we accept things aren't getting better? Are we allowed to accept failure and turn our minds to damage control?
I'm assuming you've figured out things aren't going so well at this point. I'm not getting into specifics here. Suffice it to say that I've been receiving some bad news. As in, every single day, ever since I got here. This trend has been completely in line with what happened to me all of last year and exactly the reason I decided to come to London in the first place.
Normally this wouldn't worry me all that much. I'd freak out for about 10 minutes, send someone a panic-text, get my sh*t together and realise there's always a way out. Just keep plugging away and we'll be alright. If that hasn't worked since 2012, it's only because I haven't been trying hard enough.
Except this time things are different. Things were supposed to be different, but not like this.
Some obstacles are too big to overcome. Sometimes we get knocked down so badly, there's simply no getting up. Sometimes things happen and there is no answer other than admitting defeat and starting over.
Which might prove problematic in this case. I already tried that, and now they won't let me.
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I like metaphors, and I like my classics. Reaching a crossroads and setting a path that might determine the rest of your way, that kind of thing.
I've always been scared of making the wrong choice. Not that that would make me special; I guess we all are at times. A personal favourite of mine has always been to stand on the edge of the pavement and spend eternities contemplating every possible route and all of the consequences my actions might have. I already know there is no back-tracking, which is something I learned the hard way.
And a couple of weeks ago I took a major step forward. I chose a path. If I'm being completely honest, it wasn't the path I wanted to take. But I was no longer fine with just standing still. It wasn't working for me. And after I took a good look at the other directions and saw what they could (and probably would) lead to, I settled on the only direction that made sense.
Taking this step was huge for me. These past few weeks have been a blur, and there's been some good, but it's mainly been bad. And that was okay. It was calculated, anticipated. Keep plugging. Keep moving forward.
But the bad news kept coming, and now it seems there's a good chance it might have been all for naught. Interestingly enough, I might truly be following in my father's footsteps this way.
I spent years standing at those crossroads before finally settling on a path. There is no going back. I can't, and not just because some bridges have been burned. I just can't do all of that again.
For more than a year I put up a half-smile and told everyone we all have bad spells. While friends were dying, relatives were struggling and people were leaving I shrugged it off and told myself it's just a part of life. I was dying inside, but there was no point in burdening others with whatever I was going through. Even in my darkest hours I kept looking ahead. Things will get better. We just keep moving forward.
Right now it's all falling apart. The one thing that kept driving me, the one thing I had to look forward to. Everything else is already gone, and now it feels like I'm losing my fresh start. And there is something very, very wrong.
I should be panicking, frightened, scared out of my mind. At the very least I should be worried, and knowing myself (25 years of experience on the subject) I should be an emotional wreck. And I'm not. It's just empty. There's nothing there. No sadness, no panic. Maybe it's because I haven't slept in days. Maybe it's just acceptance. A defeatist attitude perhaps, except I'm not sad about it. Not even a little bit.
I'm fine with all of this, and I shouldn't be. A lifetime of observation tells me this should worry me. I'm fine with all of this, ergo I'm not fine.
Things will get better. Except maybe they won't.
Song of the day: Todd Snider- Can't complain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UxYcIBp2W-w
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