i’m a runner. not in the sense of i go outside or get on a treadmill and run. i run away from ideas, opportunities, experiences, people, myself. that kind of runner. life has been showing me that running serves me no real purpose other than to create opportunities for regret and disappointment (among other things) later in my sentient experience. but i run anyway.
recently, however, my level of frustration at my years of running have left me wanting to come to a screeching halt a la one frederick j. flinstone.
i’m tired of running. especially since i’m not exactly sure what i’m running from. mediocrity? poverty? another mental meltdown? depression? suicide? success? purpose?
what’s chasing me? why am i afraid of it?
i don’t allow myself to get excited about anything. i don’t allow myself the opportunity to enjoy things either. because at some point, i believe, the other shoe is going to drop, and terribly painful things are going to happen and destroy anything good that just happened. i’m sure this is a common fear among a certain population of people. but i don’t know y’all like that so let me speak for me. because of my upbringing, my brain does not allow me to revisit most things that i’ve experienced. and if i do, the memories are either painful or debilitating. even happy memories are often tainted with some unsavory undertone. i mention this because i’m wondering if my detachment or, in brutally cliche terms, inability to see the bright side of my life is part of the catalyst for my current mediocrity and, let’s face it, low key ingratitude for what i have accomplished.
one of my accountability partners also happens to be a life coach. her IG live today was about procrastination; its causes and ways to recognize and manage it. her talk made me think about how i approach my life and how i tie my shoes up tight to run away from whatever’s chasing me. when i first got this job, i had panic attacks every few days because i didn’t feel i was good enough, a phenomenon commonly referred to as “impostor syndrome”. and although i still sometimes struggle with feeling like i’m “supposed” to be where i am, i think impostor syndrome is a larger issue in the whole of my life. i don’t believe i’m adequate or good enough to do anything. even though there’s a mountain of evidence to the contrary.
and that’s important because i’m tired of running. so at some point in the very near future i have to decide what it is i want from my life. up until a certain point, my list of wants was based on my immediate need to simply make it out of some fucked up situation alive. long term goals weren’t really on my radar. and if they were, they seemed like pie in the sky impossibilities because i never deemed myself worthy of anything. i was taught that i had no worth and that lesson stuck with me. you really do have to be extra careful about how you treat children, folx in general, but children specifically. there are a lot of broken children walking around in adult bodies wondering why their lives are in shambles and their happiness is ever elusive. i am one of them. i have to make several big decisions, all of which will change the trajectory of my life forever, and i’m paralyzed because i have no idea what i want.
i was taught not to want. wanting means i don’t appreciate what god or other people have done for me. wanting means i feel myself better than others. wanting means that i am somehow exercising autonomy. wanting means i believe that i can do it. wanting is a sign of some deep seeded self esteem. wanting is bad. even little things that i want i often deny myself access to because i’ve been trained not to want them. like shoes. or wearing my hair a certain way. or clothing. things like vacations. larger ideas like happiness. or peace of mind. if given the choice i will do the exact opposite of what it will take to bring me the thing i want because i don’t believe myself worthy. who am i to want something different from what i’ve been told i deserve? who am i to say that what i believe to be my portion in life is not enough? what has always intrigued me is when other people tell me what they thought i’d be by now. it’s always something big or spectacular. and it’s intriguing because i have never seen myself as someone capable of “big” things. that fire was extinguished when i was a child. dreaming big was cute until my grandmother decided i had too much ambition and i was too big for my britches. even though i was capable. so in order to “protect me” from a world that would surely devour me, she killed that part of me. now i’m not saying this as a good thing, i’m giving her the benefit of the doubt here.I’m giving you some of the excuses i was given when i asked why she treated me the way she did. i believe it was fear that caused her to crush that part of my spirit. can i take a quick moment to talk to y’all about how you treat your children? can i just say that your job was to be a vessel to get that spirit from one realm to the next. you don’t own that child. it’s not possible. so if you make the attempt to control that child’s destiny or purpose or quell what was placed in that spirit by a power higher than you or i, just be prepared for a special type of hell to befall you before you leave this plane. i’m not telling you what i think, i’m reporting what i witnessed. it ain’t pretty. if you feel life robbed you of your opportunity at greatness, you basically have 2 choices:
1. go get that shit right now, regardless of how “old” you are. if it’s yours, it’s yours. stop trying to impress people or appease folks that can’t spell dream . playing yourself small will kill you.
2. encourage your children to chase their dreams.
i bring her up in this conversation because sometimes progressive negroes like to tell you that it’s not your parents’ fault for how you turn out. i’m not saying that it’s ALL her fault, but what i am saying is, during my formative years, when i wanted to be a scientist or whatever else, the part of me that just loved that thing and wanted to work toward it was crushed and i never recovered. i have yet to feel like i am deserving of a single accolade, and i have plenty of fucking accolades that i don’t know how to be proud of because someone else decided that i needed to be taken down a notch and humbled before i ever knew i was flying. and that’s some bullshit. don’t be a bullshit monger.
i have to figure out what i want. getting to it isn’t hard. i’m a juggernaut when it comes to working toward things. unless those things are what i want and not what someone else told me i should have or deserve. so i guess in figuring how to want, so that i can figure out what i want, i’ll finally stumble upon some self confidence, a piece of self esteem, a portion of self love, and some peace of mind. because that’s what i really want.
