Disappointment and Anger Mis-managed

Thus far, by my reckoning, I have failed in all of my resolutions. This begs the question, is it better to dream big and fall short or adjust for a better possibility of success? I would argue the first option is better. Probably since my collegiate experience, which I allowed to further erode my self-confidence, I have tried to pull back, to become "more realistic" in my goals and expectations. This truly was a grave error. However, what other options are we presented with in our society? What behaviors are rewarded? Tenacity can be rewarded in certain circumstances, but it seems only when that tenacity is applied towards expected behaviors (working hard at a job, a project at work, losing weight, etc). I am afraid of failure. I mistakenly shy away from it instead of charging headlong into it's sometimes painful embrace. I overthink myself into inaction and inactivity, trying to figure out the "best" course of action as a feeble attempt at combating failure, while procrastinating action. Oftentimes, "failure" actually translates to unexpected result. We have expectations of how things will look, how they will feel, how they will be manifested, but oftentimes these constructs we have built make us rigid. If I had chosen to stay in California after the relationship I was moving for deteriorated and fell apart, I would not have met my wife, nor would I be a father.

This clumsily moves us into anger mis-management. I feel overly responsible for people and things that are not my responsibility. This can carry over into my work, even when I do not believe it to be important to life at large. I have a reasonably good paying job, with very good health benefits. This puts me a leg up over many other people in this country, which causes contradictory feelings of relief and guilt. My current job is similar to that which I left behind in California. I had told myself I was going to look for something different, yet it fell in my lap, and I accepted it. I now find myself fighting for my time, fighting for time with my family, time for myself, time without phone calls telling me that something needs my attention. I take this anger at myself for my cowardice at settling, at being safe, at not being honest with myself about what I want, and not being honest with others about the same, and take them out on those who care about me. This is not pre-meditated, but it happens nonetheless. As a new father, I feel a weight of reponsibility on my shoulders. It can even be called burdensome. Not only is there physical well-being to be concerned about, but there is also emotional and mental well-being as well. There are many things I feel are important to impart to my daughter, many lessons that I feel ill-equiped to dispense and share. One thing is becoming clear to me. By choosing cowardice, I am teaching her a powerful lesson about living one's life. It is important for me to provide an example of living beliefs instead of simply espousing them or discussing them in safe and non-challenging conversations. I must relinquish my fear of failure. I must begin to believe in myself. However, putting the pressure of "must" on myself tends to ensure that exactly the opposite will happen. I do not know how the worrier became so powerful in myself, I do not know what I am trying to protect myself from. Actually, that is not entirely true. I am afraid of feeling too much. I am afraid of being hurt. I am afraid of losing myself. After experiencing a more serious bout with depression in college, I have become afraid of my own emotions power, seeing how sadness and despair could bring me to my knees, to the point of no return. I instead have tried to take my emotions and logicize them, trying to place them through a filter of reason where I can contain them. Yet invariably, they break loose. Anger, fury, love, joy, sadness all surge through me at different times like an electrical storm. There are times I feel that the only time when my course of action is clear is when I am angry, and the arguing voices within me are silenced by its presence. How can I attain a clear sense of purpose without invoking the high costs of emotional grappling and the draining of energy that can desperately be used elsewhere? I have no answers right now. Perhaps this is my pennance for feeling smug and enlightened over the winter and summer of 2008. I leave this post, like many things, unfinished.