Some notes on being humble

Humble pie. I don't think I would have ever called myself humble in my previous life. This new life, however, has shown me my true value. 

My ex-wife once said when we first met I was "so cocky," and you know what? She's right. I was a cocky son of a bitch. I had faced so many ridiculous challenges in my life and overcame them, beat them small; what on earth could get in my way? I had to be cocky. I grew up in a household where I didn't get any respect for any of my God-given talents or any of my hard work. I spit in the face of adversity, rampaged over obstacles, laughed at the devil, and rode hard into the night. I was unstoppable. There is pride in being young and capable and full of energy. Because of my inscrutable misadventures, I've had to jettison many things of little or no worth just to survive. My pride was one of those things.

With 41 years under my belt, I've seen many changes. I've seen the world change, and I've seen myself change. Things that were once true are no longer true. Because I've been so adaptable in so many situations, I've changed so many times and now wonder who I am at age 41. Here's what I found.

I am the humblest I've ever been. "Humble" is a nice catch-all word to describe what I've been through — broken, humiliated, trashed, outright disparaged, neglected, abused, tormented — and let's just say that's enough for now. You get the point.  

Looking at the downhill side of life, and looking at what I've done and what I possess, well, it's hard to have any other reaction but to be humble. God has rescued me out of so many dire situations. I cannot be proud of anything I've done, nor do I want to be. I've learned my lesson. 

I'm not as smart as I once thought. I'm not as fast as I used to be. I'm not big or strong. I'm not as creative as I once was. My talents have mostly degenerated or are no longer needed in this world. My sex drive has disappeared, and my associated organs have seemingly done the same. My body — a weak conveyance for my soul and spirit — has been humbled by illness my entire life, but now shows signs of permanent wastage. I once thought I was good in relationships, but now know the truth. Love, or whatever I thought love was, has bent me back upon myself, breaking me in odd places. I thought I could be a good dad, but I've failed at that as well. I've found defects in myself that send shudders through my core. I will never, ever, ever look at myself the same way again. Time will tell if that's a good thing. 

These changes I've seen are largely out of my control. Call it circumstances, or call it God, but I've been humbled. The best way to be humble is to do it yourself because if God does it, it's brutal. That may be the only thing I've learned in all of this. The good news is that once one becomes humble, then God can exalt you, so to speak, but it has to be under His terms. You no longer fly your own banner.  

All of this may seem like more notes from Downerville, but the truth is, I'm not nearly as sad as I used to be. I've had the rare chance of a second shot at life, and that alone is humbling. I've spent much of my life being suicidal, but I have no suicidal thoughts anymore. That in itself is cause for celebration.  

If I can liken this struggle to anything, it's to that of a mountain climber. Great care is placed all along the way to ensure not falling, of course, but the focus is on the next step and the next, and so on. The big picture is lost. When the climber has climbed to a safe spot and can take in the beauty and wonder of the view, then the hard work disappears from memory. I'm hoping this journey is like that. I'm hoping it's more than just eternal struggling. I'm hoping there's a big vista awaiting me at the top of this Sisyphean mountain.