Have you ever had your water or electricity cut off?
Why do we have to pay for that shit anyway?
This morning feeling that all too familiar sense of struggle…
that life is just one long struggle for survival.
Ever get that sense?
To suck in just one more day of life.
But what is it that I’m really struggling against?
Forces out there…
or in here?
If I pause and give that some thought, I come up with not so surprisingly self-originating answers…
such as…
Self-Loathing – which for me seems to be the root of my recurring depression and despair.
Self-Destruction – a tendency that often makes life’s struggles annoyingly arduous.
Self-Pity – a party that no ones wants to join in.
Self-ish-ness – and there is never enough to fill that hole up with satisfaction.
Self-Indulgence – as I have stated before…my Creativity Kryptonite.
Self-Centered-ness – that creates the false illusion that I am alone in this struggle.
Hmm, that’s about it.
So self somehow seems set at the senter of my struggle (with “center” miss-spelled intentionally to make me feel good about something…in this case, my relentless capacity to illiter).
At any point in time you’ll find me struggling.
To pay the goddamn bills.
With relationship issues (currently going through my 3rd separation from my current wife…yea, you heard right…3rd!).
With my tendency to self-destruct whenever I am struggling against something (which I mentioned was mostly all the time).
With this all too frequent feeling that I just don’t measure up to the person I really would prefer to be.
And that self-doubt is reinforced by the fact that I struggle to find any one to pay attention.
Hey, just identified another source…
Self-doubt.
Yea, that’s a big one.
Sometimes I just feel like throwing in the towel.
Like Roberto Duran.
I’ve just had about enough of this shit…
I’ll say to my…self.
Then from out of nowhere…like a bolt of proverbial lightning (the best and safest kind)…
inspiration hits.
I get this feeling that even though I struggle…it’s all worth it.
It’s worth fighting against.
And that inspiration is rarely (no…never) about me.
It’s about you.
Despite my limitations.
And defects.
And weaknesses.
And the ugliness that still exists in my life.
Something beautiful has the capacity to emerge.
That my seemingly insignificant life…
really…
isn’t.
That’s true inspiration.
And it gives me a reason to go forward…
one second-minute-hour-day more…
into the darkness of struggle…
sword drawn…
and ready to fight the good fight…
against that demon who looks an awful lot like…
me.
image credit: Josh Sommers via Compfight cc
I would like to tell a little of my personal history, which itself is irrelevant have interest because it is my story, I can only give it the value it deserves and that being my historio only know every argument am she recounts, I can only know what is important and what is not, because it is my life, lIFE that summarize the result of taking every thought, every sentimieento, every moment lived by myself, and that is only relevant for me and not for others, that being what makes it valuable
to understand what my story, first must know where I come from, since knowing my origins is vital to understand, while to understand that just forget my origins has made me what I am
then should know that I am simpelente what I am, I am because the sum of all I’ve been, I said, touched or felt, I am not what should be, but this is not relavte because I am what I am, and understand that just because I am makes me simlemente
buy book