A discussion of worth (an honest assessment)
Sorry I haven't written much lately. I've been doing hot-girl shit. What is hot-girl shit? I'm glad you asked. Because I also have no idea. I think it might be how someone takes care of a horse: they comb the hair and bathe it, paying special attention to the hooves (nails?) and teeth. Maybe hot girls are like horses because horses don't do jack all day but stand around and look pretty and maybe make faces at other horses. Yeah, I'm definitely not doing that. What are dumb old donkeys doing? Trudging up a mountain with a heavy pack on their back while someone kicks them for being slow and careful and trying not to fall off the edge? I'm probably doing that. Anyway. I wrote some stuff. It may or may not be important. Okay, it isn't. It may or may not be jocular. It may or may not be an exaggeration. And I may or may not care what you think either way. Expect another post in a day or two. Or not. Whatever.
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Sometimes we are confronted by uncomfortable truths, and sometimes about ourselves. That's what this post is about. I know this isn't a fun read, but this blog is for me and things I need to work through. So, don't read it if you don't want to. This isn't about me being a victim. It's me being honest about myself. I know, it sounds like fun. So skip if you want. I won't hold it against you. Or maybe I will. You SOB.
As an early aside, I read this recently: "For the benefit of this discussion, let’s divide the brain into two parts: analytical (the manual, slow part of the brain) and emotional (the automatic, fast part of our brain). Research shows that most of our thinking is done with our emotional mind. Based on our current understanding of how we think, all decisions are made emotionally and justified intellectually (analytically). Unless there is a brain anomaly, we can’t turn off or ignore our emotions; therefore, all at-a-glance communication must focus on emotional engagement first and then provide the supporting information." I'm supposed to believe all my voluminous thinking is me simply trying to back up how I feel? That's a bit condescending. And insulting. I disagree. Regardless, let's get on with this emotional farce.
I decided to stop chronicling most of my journey. The reasons for that are embedded in this blog. I learned my lesson and was deeply and utterly humbled (err, humiliated) by mistakes on display here. I won't utter what my future holds anymore because, well, I have no idea. I have plans. (What, plan W now?) If God will bless them, they will come to fruition. That's all I know. Sometimes we have to recoup, regroup, retreat, and live to fight another day. Retreat is a noble thing when you expect to return in better condition and win. Otherwise, it's just defeat. Maybe I'm fooling myself. But that is better than being fooled by someone else. (I even contacted two women recently in an attempt to start a relationship — with both initially agreeable — and both fizzling out soon after. I literally cannot start a fire in a veritable forest of matches. Why two women? Trying to increase my odds, man, which clearly didn't work. My personality must be worse than I thought. I literally cannot buy myself love.) And, frankly, what I think or plan or do does not matter. If my next plan fails, I will probably throw in the towel. Don't worry; I'll let y'all know before I shuffle off. I know how to do a proper goodbye. Or, I can schedule a post for after I'm gone. Whatever. Just imagine me in heaven like this guy.
Did I do anything about my numerous physical ailments? No, that would be like fixing your car after you went into hospice. Honey, you ain't using that car much longer, if at all. Let things be broken. Just let go. Life is too short, and we make it entirely too hard.
Sometimes you have to look in the mirror, and if you don't have a good mirror, sometimes people flat out tell you what's up. That is what this post is about: fessing up. As Mike Ness said in the Social Distortion song I Was Wrong, well, "I was wrong, yeah. I was wrong." Haha, I was definitely wrong about myself. I tried to be a good person my whole life. I tried to make the right decisions. Turns out, I'm just a shithead. There you have it. Oh, but I'm not done yet. I'm just getting started. Hey, I don't want to misrepresent another human being, though it seems I'm alone in that sentiment. So maybe others aren't misrepresenting me at all. Say it with me: Joshua is a shithead.
Another thought: I am an odd duck. Most people have never and will never encounter another person like me. On the spectrum of what they know, I don't show up, which infuriates them. They make hasty decisions (which saves time and cognitive energy) and place me somewhere comfortable for them. That perhaps says more about them than about me. Or perhaps I'm just a shithead.
People treat you how they see you. Sometimes we don't see ourselves as others do; and who is to say who is wrong or right? Maybe everyone was right about me. I figured out some stuff the last few years. For instance, I am never good enough. That is my baseline and sums up my present reality, childhood, relationships, etc. Think about it. As the youngest child, no one gives a shit what you do or say. It's already been done and said, and done and said better by someone else. Adults don't care. They're adults. They do everything well. How is a little kid going to impress them? They were impressed by your siblings long before you came along and did the same crap. Your older siblings don't give a shit. They run circles around you all day. Some idiot kid is only good for making fun of and punishing when he occasionally threatens their superiority. The only way you can stand out is if you — by chance — do something wildly different from or better than one of them. To this day, no one gives a shit. And, think about it; in most families, who is the basket case? Usually the youngest because they didn't get the love and affection the others did. Genetically, they are weaker, as well. Take a look around, you'll see it everywhere.
All romantic relationships were similar. My marriage consisted of me following a bunch of guys who already had their way with her. Sexually, I was number seven in her book (she was my first and still my only). She cheated on me physically and emotionally over the years we were together. It was constant. There was always someone she was infatuated with or in love with or otherwise smitten with. Many times when I got home tired and hungry after work, she was sitting alone with some male friend in our house. Every single relationship I've ever been in or attempted was like this. I WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH. I choose relationships like this because of my childhood, which constantly reinforced the sentiment of not being good enough. When I chose to pursue the girl I was in love with a few years ago, I knew she was beyond my level. I think it's fine to try to be with someone better than yourself because we should all aspire to something better. Unfortunately, there is a danger you will be found unworthy, which I was. Fortunately, it didn't happen right away so I was allowed a brief glimpse of what life is like for those lofty folks. I'm grateful for what I learned.
Why does this matter now? Because I keep picking the same kind of woman. God forbid I find a nice girl who will simply accept me as I am. I am what I am (and I am, apparently, Popeye). I want to feel safe with a woman. I want to feel being myself is okay. The reasons I chose a solitary life are more apparent now than ever: when I am alone, I am 100% safe and I can count on myself. When I am with someone else, I am not safe, nor can I count on them. For this reason, I will likely never again be with a woman. That dream died on this blog. You saw it happen.
Is it clear why this blog is so important to me? First: I'm alone. Second: my thoughts and feelings matter (at least, that's what I tell myself). I started writing in notebooks when I was in high school for the same reasons. No one cared when I was growing up, and no one cares now. To whom am I going to tell any of this? To people who hate me? To people who won't listen to me anyway? To people who already blame me for everything? Sure, go ahead and blame me for my shitty life while you treat me like shit. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you don't get to blame me for what you did to me.
The exit from my marriage was supposed to be like my Exodus story. Here I was, finally going to the promised land! No more heartbreak! No more pain at the hands of a woman! Haha, how did that work out? How about more heartbreak. Another woman rejected me during my separation! And numerous times after that (my fault, I admit). Not only that, but she rejected me a million years ago when I thought I would marry her. Clearly, I should not have tried anything with her because my track record is abysmal. Then I tried online dating/international dating. It all reinforced the lesson of my childhood. After divorce, envy and bitterness grew. Look, but don't touch. I was in a museum of women, and all were off-limits. One even told me my manhood wasn't up to snuff. I'm literally average (I looked it up). When I was younger, I was more virile and could produce (ta da!) a better specimen, but not so today: I am middle-of-the-road over-the-hill guy. I shrank in ways and ballooned in others. I never said I was a snack. Here's a tip, ladies. Want a guy to remember you forever? Tell him his manhood isn't enough. There is no way on God's green earth he will ever forget. Even if he found a beautiful model (perhaps named Elizabeth Turner, if we are pulling names out of a hat) who wants to bear him many children and confided he was the love of her life and his body was ridiculously sexy to her (she may be slightly myopic), he will still carry you in the back of his head. Forever. I can't argue with any of that. I am what I am, which is not enough. And now I understand why my ex cheated on me so voraciously. Considering how much I was absent in my marriage (I worked a lot of odd hours), I don't blame her for seeking someone else, just as I don't blame anyone else for rejecting me. It just sucks. Moving on.
Further, imagine what went on in my head when the woman I loved told me she wanted to return to a domestic abuser/serial cheater instead of going forward with me. Imagine waiting for that woman to change her mind — for years — to no avail. (Did I wait because of sunk-cost bias? No, I was in love.) That placed me pretty low on the proverbial totem pole. It took me some time to see her wanting that for what it was. I mean, that is love — and love at all costs — which is what I've been missing. I want that. None of us are really good enough, but we need someone to love us regardless. I had the wrong attitude about that but now simply wish them the best. She is a wonderful woman who wants to keep loving the same man. I pray God blesses that desire and hope to find the same for myself. It is truly a rare thing.
When I saw her last, it was reaffirmed I must let go. She lamented her daughter left some trash in the backseat area of her vehicle, which led me to internally question who sits in the front passenger seat if her daughter is sitting in the back. My conclusion: two adults in front, two kids in the back. Can you guess who the other adult is? It was time to let go. Given all her misgivings about me, the only respectful thing left to do is pray for God's blessings in her life and leave her the hell alone. (If someone needs that much coaxing, they clearly don't want — or need — what you offer.) So, that's what I will do. I'm sure she got a better deal than what I could have given her. Though I was sad it wasn't me in her life all those years ago, I get it. I see the kind of man she wants and needs and know that isn't me. He is the better man.
Added to my heartbreak was the way people decided to see my divorce: I was a shithead who was to blame. I was probably a monster, they told themselves. Who could live with such a horrible man? Everyone treated me this way, except one close friend who endured years of domestic violence and cheating in past relationships. I felt she understood. The fact that everyone wanted me to be the bad guy made me the bad guy. That is how I see myself now. How people treat you becomes you. My divorce was not my exodus. It was a portal to a different world of pain and humiliation. The fantasy of finding a wonderful woman to love after my divorce was just that. I wasn't worthy.
For the longest time, I tried to see things the way Cindy saw them. Finally, I arrived upon the answer: she was right all along. (Thus, the reason I stopped chasing her.) I'm fine knowing she hates me. I am a shithead ... and a sorry one. I'm sorry she will never know how much I love her. And sorry I made such a mess. (And made such a fool out of myself, waiting nearly four years for nothing. I even bought new shoes for our someday wedding. Pathetic.) I always felt she simply wanted me to write nice things about us — or about her — though she didn’t want anything with me. I did that, and would have written volumes more. I would have gladly written about her until I died. For her, I was a chapter; for me, she was the book. Oh, to have a girl as loyal as her.
Can I succinctly paint her portrait? Let me try. "Love is patient and is kind; love doesn’t envy. Love doesn’t brag, is not proud, doesn’t behave itself inappropriately, doesn’t seek its own way, is not provoked, takes no account of evil; doesn’t rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." It is safe to say I will never out-love that girl. I truly met a love more adamant than mine.
Over and over I'm struck by how much that woman loves. My gosh, what a thing to see in the flesh. What compassion. What tenderness. It is beyond my compression. Always will be, just like the love of God. I will never know why those sentiments didn't apply to me. I always seem to be the exception to the rule. Just as I will never know why any of them walked away. I know it doesn't matter anymore. But it still affects how I see myself. A nice girl who loves me could change my whole world.
Let's recap. Childhood abuse. Neglect. Betrayals. Rejection. More rejection. Endless rejection. Divorce. Unwarranted blame. More rejection. (My ex even said no to reconciliation.) That's a whole lotta fun, Joshua. Why didn't you just kill yourself? Good idea. The thought crossed my mind. And never left. I'm joking. Maybe. Not really. How do you even go through life when you don't care about anything? I have no reason to get up in the morning except I don't want the power company to turn off my lights, so at the very minimum, I have to go to work to keep the lights on. Wandering around in the dark sucks. Kind of like a raccoon. I already feel like a raccoon, eating trash and snarling at people. And then running away as a last resort.
My heart wasn't broken by life. It was slaughtered. Something broken can conceivably be put back together, but not me, who was rejected and betrayed countless times by those closest. Every relationship ended the same. Even my family mistreated, abused, and neglected me. There must be something very wrong with me. There is nothing I can do about the past. I'm okay with how everything turned out and let go of everything. Truly, I am free and soon will be freer still.
Listen, I'm not mentally ill. My past affects me, but not as much as my present. My past can be overcome. I didn't choose childhood abuse, which affects me even today, so it seems unfair the effects of childhood abuse would persist. I get furious when considering those who don't have all this baggage and what their lives must be like. Their lives aren't perfect. But what would life be like without all this shit? And to see those same people take for granted all the good things in their lives and act a fool pisses me off. They are so careless with things I would be thrilled to have — even for a day — just to know what it's like. I am eaten up with jealousy and envy. Add all of these things together and you have a recipe for jumping ship. I can't wait to go home. I weep and imagine a way out of this. All I want is to go home and feel safe. (We all need a safe place, and listening to old Stevie Wonder songs from my childhood only gets me so far.) This world is a miserable place. I endured storms. Lost many things. I'm ready to go. Of course, the way things are going in the world, sticking around is a death sentence. Either way, I won't have to worry about my numerous physical ailments much longer (like going blind and the open sores on my legs that don't go away). Sooner or later. And, maybe I'm just tired because I haven't had a break in years and especially from last summer, when I had to start working nights and weekends, too.
Then again, maybe I will witness something like Psalm 56. Just when things seem absolutely impossible, God likes to move because no one will ever question it is God's hand. Before I officially bow out of life (as I have in spirit), I will submit everything to God once more. Perhaps He will bring about a miracle.
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A bit of news: I allowed myself the purchase of a cheap tablet. Why? You know. Tumblr. Bigger is better. *ahem* And, my phone died. I don't need a new phone because no one calls and those who do I avoid. For some reason, people who call are really concerned about the welfare of my vehicle (usually one I no longer own) and want to make sure my warranty is still viable. Bless their hearts!
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