Past Pain, Present Learning, Future Growth and Healing

So lately I’ve been nipped by the nostalgia bug and have been re-reading a lot of my old writings, including blog entries.  Long before I started this particular blog, I had a blog for about four years that was essentially just a way to keep family and friends apprised of things going on my life.  Interestingly enough, the blog happened to start at this site (and no, I will not post a link to that garbage here), then it migrated to LiveJournal (now I’m just making myself feel old) and then finally to MySpace, where it just kind of petered out (just like MySpace!).  For various reasons, most of which I can’t seem to remember, I abandoned the blog about three years ago now and hardly thought about it until recently.

This read-through was an incredible experience, far more than just (excuse the horrid cliché) a trip down memory lane.  It was a look at who I used to be, how I thought, felt and communicated.  Those who know me know that while I am exceedingly talkative, I don’t often say much about myself; I am a very private and shy person who prefers talking about almost anything else.  As one might expect, I am in fact far more comfortable putting my thoughts in writing as opposed to speaking them, so starting a blog was a natural outgrowth.  But like so many other bloggers, I didn’t really know what I was doing.  I simply posted about whatever was going on in my life or what I was thinking/feeling.  Because of this, the first thought that popped into my head upon reading these old posts was “Why the hell did I feel a need to keep people apprised of every single thing that happens in my life?”  I mean, who the heck wants to read about every intimate detail of a person’s existence (unless of course, the person in question is a celebrity, which is the entire reason for the existence of the rags known as tabloids)?  Thankfully, I at least knew where the line of “should not be posted on the web. Ever.” was located and I never crossed it; thoughts that fit into that category are reserved purely for my handwritten journal.  But I still posted far more than anybody needed or wanted to know.

In addition to frequently posting too much information, I’ve noticed that many of my posts are almost disturbing in their redundancy.  My brain clearly got stuck, and still does to this day, on certain things for weeks, even months at a time.  Now, for some things, such as severe emotional pain, this is understandable; for example, breaking up with your significant other is something that can take a long time to get over.  While I’ve never had a girlfriend, I have written a great deal about love, especially when the girl who remains the closest thing I’ve ever had to a girlfriend turned me down.  That experience was an incredibly painful thing to deal with, especially when you factor in my nasty inferiority complex.  I found that the only way I could even begin to understand the emotions I was dealing with was to write about them, both in my blog and in my journal.

Although writing most certainly helped with the healing process, it had an unintended side effect that I was too damn blind to see; I couldn’t see how my writing was affecting others.  I don’t mean that people were bored of the redundancy of my posts (although I’m sure that’s true), but the fact that I often spent weeks moaning and groaning about this or that without learning my lesson.  While it’s certainly true that you can only learn the lesson or move on from the pain when you’re ready, my old posts clearly illustrate an idiotic, naïve boy who almost seemed to delight in dragging things out.  I honestly wonder what in the hell I was thinking at times, acting like such a sniveling child. 

Regardless of the motivations behind my behavior, my thought process on it comes to one logical conclusion, and that is that I owe my friends and family both an apology and a debt of gratitude.  I’m not going to sit here and beg forgiveness for my sins with some bullshit rationalization and/or proclaim that I’ve seen the error of my ways (anyone who has read those old blogs knows that I often claimed to have done so, almost always erroneously); I am simply going to say that I am eternally grateful for those who have stuck by me no matter how much I acted like a complete, total and utter ass.  I didn’t deserved to have such good, caring people sticking by my side.  For those that didn’t, you had every right not to, and you have my most heartfelt apologies for any pain I caused you.  While the damage can never be repaired, I sincerely hope that, with time, any wounds I have inflicted can be healed.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking.  It’s only a couple of days until the dawn of a new year and I’m trying to ease my guilty conscience so that I can go into the new year with a clean slate.  I’ll tell you right now that anyone who believes that is a bigger fool than I.  We all walk a hell of a bumpy path, some more than others, and there are things that we will always carry with us, no matter how many years may pass.  I won’t sit here and bitch that I’ve had it harder than others, but my path has certainly not been an easy one.  Re-reading my old posts helped me to see some of the obstacles I have already overcome, yet they also showed me just how far I still have to go.

Anyone who has read any blog I have ever posted knows that I was once a boy who was shy, naïve and blind to the future, a boy with little confidence in himself or his abilities; in some ways, I still am this boy.  I carry him inside of me as a reminder of my strength and I still have difficulties with my confidence.  As I walked my path, I found strength I never knew existed simply because my fear of the consequences of failure was too great.  That strength carried me through every obstacle to date.  Over time, the fear faded into the background, but never went away entirely, as it often does.  In the last few years, I have suffered some very painful personal losses and have begun to reexamine my life as I approach my third decade.  Between this examination and re-reading my blogs, the only conclusion I can draw is that the same fear that once drove me back from the gates of Hell, that showed me how great my strength was, has now become my greatest weakness.  My fear has made me complacent, afraid to change things.  As a result, I’ve spent the last few years stuck in a rut, unsure of where to go or what to do.

Now, it’s not as if I’ve made zero progress in recent years.  I’ve gone back to school in order to make a better future for myself, one that is free of dead-end jobs and the depression that comes with them.  I’ve developed a better understanding of myself and of life and I’ve become a better person.  But through re-reading my old posts, I’ve noticed that I am continuing to repeat old cycles and it is this constant repetition that feeds my fear and holds me back.  I can’t keep letting fear and uncertainty guide me, no matter how well they served me in the past.  Instead of actually accomplishing anything, I’ve stayed in my safety zone so that I didn’t have to deal with potential failure.  How the hell can I rely on my strength when I damn myself by acting like a coward?

Frankly, I’m at a point in life that I should have reached ten years ago.  I’m finally starting to build a life for myself, finally able to leave the nest and really get out into the world.  But instead of moving on, I continue making bullshit excuses for myself so that I can stay in my safety zone.  How can I consider myself a man when I still act like a child?  Everything that I have to deal with, good or bad, is a direct result of my own choices.  Yes, the world is a scary place, and yes, the potential for failure is also great, as are the consequences of it; these are things that I above all others know very well.  But there is also great wonder in this world and great potential for success, if I only get off my ass and chase it.

What this really comes down to is that it’s time I stopped observing life and starting living it.  There’s a quote from the Disney movie “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” that sums this up well; Laverne the Gargoyle tells Quasimodo “Life’s not a spectator sport.  If watchin’ is all you’re gonna do, then you’re gonna watch your life go by without ya”.  I have missed out on so much in my life because I preferred to watch rather than participate.  I think that’s also part of why I’ve had so little luck finding love; I stood back to avoid being hurt because I feared that rejection was inevitable due to my lack of a backbone.  Combine that with the fact that I’ve always thought myself to be unattractive and unappealing and you have a recipe for dating disaster.  So how in the hell could I ever expect to find love without actually participating?  It’s not just going to come knocking at my front door. 

Now, while being a pure observationist (I’m not sure that’s even a word, but oh well) can very easily prevent you from experiencing anything, it does have one merit.  I’ve learned a remarkable amount through observing others, and in doing so I have begun to understand certain things a bit better.  But that only nets you half of the knowledge and experience that every person needs.  Observation is no more or less important that participation, and we all need a little of both; without a combination of both, life is bland and unfulfilling.  I mean, all I do is observe without participating and, while I can say I am content with my overall life at the current moment, I am by no means happy.  I feel alone and disconnected from everyone because I removed myself from my own life.   Yes, I’ve never had to deal with the pain of rejection, but isn’t it just as bad to miss out on everything?  Watching from the sidelines causes great jealousy, which can easily lead to just as much pain, if not even more, than flat out rejection.

I’m nearly 28 years old, and it’s time to grow up.  Enough is enough.  No more circuitous logic.  No more cyclic behavior.  No more excuses.  I have a great deal I want to do with my life, and I’m sure as hell not getting any younger.  The only thing standing in my way at this point is me.  My friends and family have always seen great potential in me, even when I couldn’t see it in myself, and it’s high time I started living up to that potential.

I’ve never been one to make New Year’s resolutions, mostly because it’s not like anyone keeps them anyway, but I want to make a resolution this year.  No, I won’t make a New Year’s resolution; I will make a promise.  Although 13 is traditionally viewed as an unlucky number, I know that 2013 is my year.  This is the year I will finally become the man I should have become years ago.  This is the year I will finally stop watching and start living.  This is the year I will start chasing my dreams instead of just dreaming them.  Most of all, this is the year I become a better person, one who treats his friends and family with the respect and gratitude they deserve instead of taking them for granted.

It might not mean a lot, but you have my word on this.  This is my year, and by God, I’m gonna seize it by the horns.