I could quote Dickens poorly and say my life right now is both "the best of times" and "the worst of times," but I want to sound neither trite nor melodramatic, and even though my blog is more introspective than the majority of "skeptic" blogs out there, I have about as much respect for histrionic people as I do for pedophiles, so I have no desire to count myself among their ranks. Still, Dickens' oft-used and oft-abused quote does remind me of the current state of my life.
There was a time in my life when I thought I'd be an artist. I experimented with painting, and found in the end that I'd rather staple catfish to my forehead than paint. I was proud of my first few works, interestingly enough, but that muse died harder than an overused Internet meme. When I forced myself to paint one last time, I spent several hours trying to create something of quality: several hours, several strokes of paint on the canvas. I felt like I had to finish, because I had already spent so much time on it. I felt committed, like someone who buys a movie ticket and sits through the whole movie even though he freaking hates it. I was a victim of the Sunk Costs Fallacy, so I kept going.
Still thinking I'd have a future as an "artist" (whatever the hell I thought that meant), I labored on in my endeavor to create my next masterpiece. Eventually I sat back in my chair and had a rather Heideggerian moment in which I realized that, right then, nothing about my painting was the way I wanted it to be. Every damn thing about it was wrong. Ironically, everything was where I wanted it to be (mostly), but everything was off just enough to make me entirely uncomfortable with the whole thing.
I eventually scrapped the whole painting, and admitted that my talents and passions lie elsewhere. I now look at that abandoned painting as a metaphor for my life. Nothing about my life is quite where I think it should be, although a lot of things are damn close; so close, in fact, that I continue to live in a (usually) bearable state of unhappiness.
I love my job at the martial arts academy. Actually, I should say that I love the vocation more than the occupation. The job itself has been incredibly stressful on me for reasons I won't get into here: so stressful that, if this were any other job, I'd have quit long ago. I continue on because, for one, I absolutely love being "Sensei Bud." I love every opportunity I have to teach the kids. Part of my job is to also teach the introductory classes for potential students, which are always private lessons. I love teaching these classes, because I love showing both children and adults the benefits of martial arts training by giving them just a taste of what we offer in our curriculum. This is the first job I've ever had in my adult life that I actually care about in the "I want to do this for the rest of my life" sense.
But, as I said, things have been stressful. There are several factors, including personal issues with which I've been wrestling internally. The academy is amazing. I work alongside wonderful people and exceptional martial artists. I feel honored and humbled to be counted among them. I feel so close to having what I want and need in a job, but, like my old painting, things are off just enough to keep me in a perpetual state of feeling uncomfortable.
As I look at all the paint strokes of my life, those which feel the most off are the ones dealing with women. In fact, most of the problems of my life are due to my romantic endeavors. Had I just stayed away from relationships entirely, I think my life would be a lot less stressful. It's probably more accurate to say marriage rather than relationships, and more accurate still to say that I should have just stayed away from marrying the wrong women. In yet another Heideggerian moment of awareness, I snapped out of a mental grayness that comes with perfunctory routine and habitual daily patterns by a series of thoughts that sliced through my skull: My life isn't going the way I want it to at all.
I'm 36. I've been divorced twice. I have three kids from my first marriage whom I hardly ever get to see because they live three states away with their mom. I make payments on a student loan for a semester of grad school after needing to drop out so that I could support my second wife who got fired from her job due to repeated tardiness, only to find out that she had been having sex with some chump behind my back and wanted to leave me. I call my student loan my "ex-wife loan" because half of it went to supporting her.
I've had lower abdominal pain for well over a year that my doctors can't diagnose. I get the feeling they don't care that much; after all, if I were one of their family members, do you really think they'd have let this go on for over a year? Instead, they kept prescribing pain meds. After being on hydrocodone for over a year, I became addicted. I had to break my pain medication addiction the same way I quit smoking: I stopped taking it, and went through the worst physical hell of my life.
Between paying child support and doctor's bills and my "ex-wife loan" payments, money has constantly been an issue. I just don't make enough yet. There are things I want, and more importantly, things I need, that I just can't buy. I could keep going and sound like one of those "I am the 99%" people; after all, they do have a point. I struggle to get the basic needs for myself, and it's sure as hell not due to lack of effort.
My lower abdomen aside, I've lived with chronic pain since I was 19. Arthritis in my shoulder, severe back pain from an old injury in college, a bad knee from repeated basketball injuries, and a tricky ankle from a work-related accident when I used to unload trucks keep me in constant pain, even with prescription pain meds. Whenever the weather changes, my body becomes a wreck.
Every two years I've lost someone I love. My dad died in 2006; Steve, who was closer than a brother to me, died in 2008. My grandfather - the man who, in these past few years, literally saved my life with the support he gave me - died in 2010. Every two years. I'm not a superstitious man by any means, but that doesn't make me any less leary of 2012 (and not for any silly Mayan Calendar-related reasons). Even the most logical people have to contend with their emotional sides.
I sound like I'm complaining or whining, but all I'm doing is explaining what my life has been like. Where the painting analogy breaks down is that I have no desire to "scrap the project." I can't help but look back and sigh, sometimes wishing things would have worked out differently. There are aspects of my past I absolutely hate. Nothing in my life is quite where I want it to be. My only solution is to keep fighting, continue pressing forward.
This blog entry may not sound like it, but in reality I am a pretty positive person. I believe that I can get myself through all the obstacles in my life and accomplish what I want. I love quotes, especially intelligent and inspiring quotes that exhibit strength and determination. I post the ones I really like on Facebook. I understand why a lot of people disregard those quotes. They say things like, "that's easier said than done," to which I usually reply, "no fucking shit." Of course it's easier said than done. Life is damn hard. It never gets easier. It never lets up on you. It always throws shit at you and expects you to either smile back or give up. This blog entry isn't my complaining about life; it's just an example - my example - that life sucks. The only way to make it not suck is to fight, and keep fighting. Get knocked down, and get the hell back up. Hit your obstacles as hard as they hit you. If you bleed, consider it your reward.
A few days ago, during training, I sparred with Sensei Vince, who is not only one of my co-workers, but an MMA fighter who just turned pro. He reminds me of Darth Vader insofar as "he's more machine now than man." Physically, he's a powerhouse. He's also a fantastic martial artist. In between hitting me in the head several times, he said something to me that really got wedged in my brain. He was taking about sparring/competing, but I think it could also apply to life. He said:
"This is a relationship. You gotta give some and take some. You need to let me know what you want out of this relationship. I'm definitely gonna let you know what I want out of this relationship."
... He said, as he demonstrated precisely what he wanted out of this relationship by hitting me in the head yet again.
I got his message, though. You gotta give some, and you gotta take some. You want to win? You gotta take a few hits... and you gotta keep hitting back. You want to accomplish anything worthwhile in life? You want to find some happiness out there? Same rules apply. The problem is that we have too many whiners and not enough warriors; too many victims and not nearly enough people willing to glove up and get in the fight.
Dead-Logic.com
