Birthdays Matter

So, it was my birthday yesterday. I used to hate birthdays. It sucks being that kid whose birthday falls near or on a holiday. Nobody has time to really focus on you. Now,  my parents were excellent about making sure I got Christmas and birthday presents independently. It was really kind of them to do that, given they had 8 other kids to worry about. However, not everybody else got the memo. And besides that, who wants to throw a birthday party the same week as Christmas? After a while, I started looking at my birthday as a big hassle. I didn't want to be a bother. I rarely complained other than right around the time. Eventually, I just started to ignore it altogether. Didn't seem like a big deal at the time. I still got presents, people still occasionally remembered to send cards and stuff. And the whole birthday thing just kind of faded out of my list of "gives a crap".

Then I started dating this girl. She acted like I was a big deal. That I mattered, a lot. She made it clear that she thought the world of me. I tried to brush it off, not let it get to me too much. Understand, I appreciated the effort. And I love this girl, to point of marrying her. I just had a problem with thinking much of myself. At the time we started dating, I was of the opinion that I was a failure. I had flunked college, got fired from two jobs and life wasn't going well. I wasn't even trying to be in love with her, because I though I wasn't good boyfriend material. That part got taken out of my hands. I fell for her like I'd stepped out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. So, anyway, two years after we started dating, she decided to throw me a surprise party. For my birthday. I'd let slip how much it sucked to have a birthday around the holidays. And apparently I came across as a bit bitter about it. So she got everyone in my life that could show up to do so. I walked into a room at the church my parents attended without a clue. And proceeded to receive the biggest "Happy Birthday" I've ever heard. Friends, family and just people I knew were there to wish me well and happy. My bitter cold heart towards birthdays melted on the spot. And I've never recovered. It was sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me.

My wife still makes a big out of me, especially about my birthday. And I love it. I don't even pretend to brush it off anymore. I now understand that it's important to have someone tell you that you matter. 

Because you do matter.

Something Good

So,
I realize that the last post was a bit negative.

I mean, that's how I felt. About that one topic. I'm not going to take it back. However, there are a lot of things going on in my life. And I have feelings about all of them. Allow me to share something more positive. 

This past Wednesday night, I passed my EMT class. I'm gonna take a moment to appreciate what that means for me...*Big Sigh of Relief* 
It means I did it. I broke the cycle of failure that has plagued me my entire adult life. I don't have to take crap from my subconscious about what a loser I am, anymore. I DID something that matters. In the process I lost my job and it's been incredibly stressful trying to deal with that and still stay on top of all the other things in my life. There were days I really wanted to give up again. But I didn't. I won, fair and square, against my own broken nature. And I don't even care that there is still a state test I have to take, because I'm gonna nail it. I can feel it.

Damn, that feels good. You know what else feels good? Writing here again. without something terrible happening to prompt it. I'm long overdue getting this writing thing kicked off properly. Now, I feel like I can really do it. Actually, I feel like I can do just about anything. And you know what? I probably can. This feeling will pass and there will almost certainly be dark moments in my life again. That said, I will always have this moment as an objective marker of my ability to persevere and come through. I've never really had anything like this before. It defies even my subconscious' facility for minimizing my accomplishments so it can make me feel like shit.

Cause you see, I have some kind of depression. And when you have depression, your mind screws with you. It lies to you, cheats you and distorts your reality. And when your own mind does that to you, it really helps to have external and objective reminders of reality. And now I have one.

There you go, something good.

Just how I feel

Tonight catches me in a rare moment.

I have decided to try sharing that moment with any of you that happen to read it.

I am a creature of feeling. I prioritize emotion and meaning over rational thought and logic. This is a part of myself that has actually bothered me quite a bit. I mean, much of our society prizes the engineers, scientists and business people over the poets, musicians and artists (celebrities not withstanding). And why not? Every society has to have it's "folk that get stuff done" in order to survive. I mean, let's be honest, us touchy-feely folk aren't gonna do it. We'd try if we had to, but something would eventually get the better of our attention and then everything would go to hell. 

I have the heart of a poet, but the skills of a mechanic or a laborer. And I hate that. I can't seem to focus long enough to develop the skills to actually reflect my nature and heart's desire. I can't draw, can't sing, can't play an instrument and can't write well. Put a broken car or electronic device in front of me and I'll fix it, given the right tools and a chance to study the problem.

But I can't tell you why the sunset makes me weep sometimes. Or why a song just cuts my heart into pieces for no reason. I lack the tools for that job. And it hurts. I feel locked inside myself without outlet. Every time I try to get something out, I can't satisfy myself with it and it gets discarded. I want to inspire people, make them think and feel things they never have before. But all my hands seem to get out is utter rubbish. Don't ask me about my voice. Hate the sound of it.

I don't know how many times I've sat in front of this computer and tried to get words typed up to share. I'm not even sure if I'll make it this time, either. We'll see.

My wife has often encouraged me to blog and write more often. Her insistence is kind and thoughtful, but it makes me feel inadequate when I still can't manage to get something done.

Many times I wish I could just stop having all these worthless feelings that rattle around my head. That I could just become like Spock or Sherlock or even like my wife. I get tired of being distracted by the feelings and never being able to use them for anything productive or even creative. It's a tough spot to be in and I feel like I'm wasting my life trying to be something I'm not. The problem, is that I don't what I am supposed to be. Nor how aspire to it.

There, that's my rare moment. I'm telling you how I feel and not backing out at the last minute. 

Thanks for reading.