It’s a 5am kinda world

I start a new job tomorrow. I haven’t worked a full time job, or any job in over 5 years, except a small attempt of one month in 2014. I am scared. I don’t want to fail and I have to get up at 5am. What is that? Who came up with that hour? I imagine it was a grumpy motherfucker who wanted to make other people miserable.

Oh well. It’s the way the world is right now. It’s a 5am kinda world. Expectations. Unacceptable. Exhausted. Then you die.

Except it doesn’t have to be like that. Life is more than work. Life is also more than being home. I know this. Being sick, disabled, with depression setting in for a long haul, I wished so much to work. I kept waiting to get better. To not hurt so much. To have a better, more clear mind not consumed with anxiety. To not be a afraid anymore.

It never happened. I got sicker. I hurt more now than ever. My mind is raging with anxiety. And I am more scared today than ever.

But I am also strong and courageous. I have overcome so much already. I have climbed many mountains, alone. I have lost family who are still living. I have found out that many who say they are your friends, are not, but there are many good, true people I have stumbled upon and I am thankful for their friendships, their solidarity, their compassion and kindness.

So tomorrow when I get up at 5 am, an ungodly hour if I haven’t already said so, and I hurt like hell, but I put my feet to the floor anyhow, I’m going to push through and do my best. I’ll pull on the strength and support of my community, my friends and family.

 

Perfection isn’t for humans

Do other people sit and think about their flaws? I’m not talking about fleeting thoughts that are then ignored or suppressed. I’m talking about analyzing themselves to figure out what is the root cause of a flaw? Do people make lists of their shortcomings and all the things that must change about themselves to be a better person?

If I were…

One day I’ll be…

I’m still working on…

I know I’m not…

Maybe if I fix this I’ll finally be…

As a child, I was under constant scrutiny from my mother, her trying to fix me, make me better. Less of this, more of that. I don’t have memories as a child where I remember feeling accepted by my mother. There were always improvements to be made. I never felt sure footed or rooted in my own self identity, not until much later in life.

In my adult life I have spent a great amount of energy trying to fix myself, but I haven’t felt finished with the task. Like some rigged carnival game, there is that one proverbial pin that I cannot knock down. I throw, and throw, and each time I almost knock them all down, except for one pin that never topples. It is defiant to the force of my struggle, my energy, and my will.

There is actually more than one stubborn pin, when it comes to counting up all my flaws. I think that’s just the way it’s going to be. I might conquer a flaw here and there, throughout life, but there is no perfect me.

Perfection isn’t for humans anyhow. Grace is. Compassion is. Humility is most definitely for humans. My flaws created the room for grace, compassion, and humility. They have shaped me more than anything else.

I’m not done growing. I have many more mistakes to make.

Original artwork by Harmony Greenwood