Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Fear & Loathing

I had a conversation last night with someone about Fear, and it came to a point where I could no longer verbalize what I felt.  That never happens to me.  So I thought I would try to put it down here, in long-hand, to try and get that out.

I am afraid.  Sometimes it gets overwhelming, and I need to pull away, breathe, and get myself back under control.  Fear is a phantasm; it is not real.  It is a product of your own mind, a combination of negative thoughts and anxiety.  I do my best to not let fear control me.  It is extremely difficult much of the time.  I know that I have to just laugh and press on anyway through the fear.  I know that when I follow my heart when choosing my actions, the end result will be something *of* my heart, and will be a good result. 

Sometimes, the fear gets in the way.  Sometimes doubts and anxiety cloud my vision of awesomeness, and cause me to misstep.  I am afraid of that happening, which causes a paradox.  I sometimes become afraid of the fear causing me to fail.  I become afraid of Fear Itself.  (Fuck you, FDR!)  Entering a given situation, if I go in unconcerned about the final outcome, the situation resolves itself with good results.  If I enter a situation where I have a desire for a specific outcome, the Fear latches on to the occasion, like a tick gripping a flap of arm fat, burrowing its monstrous little head into your body causing mind bending pain and insisting that you Deal With It, instead of anything else going on.  The alternative to this is to not give a fuck about anything, which is not really a solution, but a cop out.  That lifestyle is only maintainable so long as you have very little regard for yourself.

Many times, I am afraid of myself.  Nothing in this world, no outside influences frighten me more than my own ability to destroy.  I am aware of my own capabilities of destruction.  If I dwell on it for any length of time, it terrifies me right down to the bone.  I know what I can do.  Knowing what I can do is the only thing that keeps me from doing those things.  I do not consider myself particularly strong, just strong enough.  If a task needs completed, I can be strong enough to complete that task.  No question about it, I can be just exactly that strong, for as long as is needed to complete the task.  The toll afterwards is usually enormous, whether it is mentally or physically, but it is paid.  Is this a good quality?  Some might say absolutely, Yes, it is.  I just know that it is a terrible understanding of oneself.  I understand that there are very few tasks that can be put in front of me that I cannot accomplish.  Think about that.  When someone says that, you usually have visions of things like the Olympics.  Athletes reaching for the stars.  Steve Jobs.  Martin Luther King.  Mother Theresa, Mary Lou Retton, Nelson Mandella, Fucking Oprah Winfrey.  All amazingly talented and compassionate people, changing the world with their vision.  But, still just simple humans, like you and I.  Now consider the convex: Ed Gein's mutilations and experiments.  John Wayne Gacy.  Jerry Sandusky.  Jeffrey Dahmer.  Jack the Ripper.  The guy who just shot up the elementary school.  These are also people with Vision.  Visions of terror and destruction, but still... just simple humans. I understand my own capability to visualize and attack.  My ability to Identify and Resolve.  We all are born with equal parts good and evil within us.  The path taken in the course of your life depends entirely on which seed you water. 

Those are, of course, extreme examples.  I am no Hitler, any more than I am Ghandi.  But, I am aware of how my actions affect others.  Constantly, painfully aware of this fact.  I have 2 boys.  Having children is an instructional course in abject terror.  These boys' only influences from the world around them are the ones that I put in place.  Their entire world view is shaped by me and the things that I put in front of them.  Sometimes I feel that any influence I can give them, other than mine, is a positive influence.  How can I possibly allow my sweet children to become infected by the poison that saturates my being, seeps through my pores, weeps constantly from my soul?  I have a strong understanding of the depths and depravity possible by man... and while it may be a source of strength for me, I do not wish such an understanding on anyone.  I protect my children from the dangers present in the world, and I also protect them from Myself, as I represent those dangers as much as anything else.  More so, because I am their parent. 

I have influence over 2 more children, for the 2 years that I lived with them, and more.  I love these children with all of my heart, as I love my 2 boys.  These 2 love and respect me as well, as they have not had a male role model in their lives.  I will not pass judgement on their mother, but just say that these 2 have had a tougher time with life and parental influences than my children.  I was moved at times to do what I could to protect them from their mothers influence, as I had stumbled across someone who was decidedly more poisonous and damaged than I had ever really encountered before.  I did what I could here for the sake of the children, not seeing the damage that I was doing to the mother.  My own good will and intentions, for the sake of the children, added to the rift between the children and their mother.  I had fallen in love with the children, and not their mother, who also KNEW THIS FACT, but kept quiet about it for the sake of her kids.  My decisions, my actions, had caused this woman to suffer as she watched her kids drift further away from her, and on to me.  I was suffering because of the inability to communicate with this woman.  Meanwhile, my own children suffered from my misery, seeing me pushing so hard against something that I could not possibly move.  After two years plus, things finally came to a head, and everything exploded. 

Now, I am not jackass enough to believe that everything revolves around me.  It wasn't my fault that she was fucked up.  She was fucked up when I got there.  I took a chance on someone, and was blinded by all of the early warning signs, because BOOBS.  But, the fear is there.  The fear is that a situation like this spun completely out of my control, and people were hurt.  Not just people, but highly impressionable children were hurt.  Not only mine, which I can take responsibility for, but I voluntarily ordered up a plate of hurt for someone else's children as well.  Did I do some good?  Sure.  I am the dad to these kids that they never had.  I am their De De.  But now, I am not there any more.  I am not there to take care of them, to hold them when they cry, to snatch them up with they step out of line, yet they have been given the impression that I would be there for these things.  Like a De De should.  And, now I am not. 

Do I regret the whole situation? Absolutely not.  To do so would throw away everything that we have had.  To do so would piss all over the memories and the positive influence that I know I had over those 2 wonderful children.  But, the fear is there.  The fear is there, because I did crush them, with my actions.  Who else will I do this to in my lifetime?  The road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions.  What other 'good intentions' will crop up in my selfish quest for companionship?  Should I just give up?  Have no more relationships with anyone except for the few people that I must retain relationships with, for the rest of my life?

No.  I will not do that.  I will not let the terrorists fear win.  To do so, would be to give up the human experience.  What example would I be setting for my children, for all of the children that I have influence over, that giving up is ok?  The fear will not rule me.  It may influence me on occasion.  That tick is still gnawing on the back of my arm... but I am just going to slap it and press on. 


Oh, and because the profanity in this article is disastrously low:  Fuckery Shitball Cuntsicle Lollipop Ass Raped Bunghole Poop Shower.  You are welcome!


The Angry Man