brb.

Every time I pick myself back up on my feet this year someone else tackles me. They don't even wait for the snap to begin another dogpile. I just needed time to heal. I was borderline manic at the beginning of this month because a single punch was finally pulled. I was too caught up in missing the right hook that I didn't see the uppercut coming. Then the stressors of this month came out with the lead pipes to keep me on the concrete. People took all my goodwill and ran but I would have given it to them anyways. I have emotional maturity. I'm an adult; I'm not an animal. I can set my self-interest aside and recognize my wants aren't always what's right. I didn't have to be robbed and abandoned. That may sound like a victim complex and maybe it is but I would never treat a human being how I have been.

I tried to overcompensate with accomplishments. I was treated so worthlessly I thought if I could do things I didn't think possible of myself then I could be worth something. I couldn't prove it to myself let alone anyone else. It's desperate and sad. "Look, Dad! Are you proud of me?" I threw myself head first into writing this book, going harder than I ever have before, and didn't leave myself with the capacity for another calamity. I was naive enough to think the clouds had parted and life could go back to its boring self.  I thought I was finally being given the peace of mind to make such a commitment. Again, I was wrong.

So, for once this year, I'm just going to take the L with some semblance of grace. There's no time for a comeback this season. I've been shut out. I've got crutches under each arm; I don't even have a best foot to put forward anymore. I've been disfigured to the point where I'm no longer presentable. I'm going to accept that if I'm going to finish the marathon of this book, I need to be patient with myself. I need to let the fractures heal. I need to get the heck off the field and train harder than I ever have before so that next season I'll be ready. Right now, though, I need to accept that there's no gap for me to pass through. I'm not being given the opportunity to succeed. I'm not being given the opportunity to be happy or carefree. I've been trying to get off the bench all year but they simply won't have me on the field. (There are, like, 10 mixed football metaphors in this rant. Sorry.) After all the damage I've accumulated, I'm now walking around like I've been concussed. The only opportunity I'm being given is to get hurt even more. I'm not wanted here. I'm not needed. I need rest and recovery and I can get back to work when the time is right.