May 19, 2003 | 10:10 AM Central Time
Insecurities

I am slowly coming to terms with the last few days. It�s a slow process, a story that probably doesn�t really bear being told. But to help me remember, help me cope, that is what I do. Moment by moment, I sit quietly and recount exactly when it was that it all became too much.

For a couple years, my �prime years,� I was able to project this overwhelming security, the self-assurance that let everyone know that I knew who I was, where I was going, and exactly what path to take to get there. And years later, as I sit in a room, loudly cracking jokes, the insecurity that has always been cowering, snaking through my veins, occasionally pops its head out to reappear, at the worst possible moments.

It�s difficult to keep from resenting people who, by all accounts, have never tried. Those who amble through, never making an attempt to improve the world around them, themselves, no smile to a stranger, no drive for self-improvement. Holding others to one standard is wrong, and I realized this long ago. But somehow, the knowledge that no one cares, and still succeeds beyond my wildest dreams, got left out of my lexicon. And it makes me resent.

I try to explain away my insecurities, saying that somehow, what I do will be worth it in the long run. That someday, the forces that be would realize the impact I dreamed of making, the eternal struggle that wakes me up every morning before the alarm goes off, that it would give me a hand. I�ve never liked asking for help� I am the bearer of advice, not the recipient. But realizing that so much of what I struggle for is determined by dumb luck, charm, connections� I wonder why I bother.

And seeing things that I dream of fall into the lap of people who don�t even try, and who never appreciate or care about what they have� it catches me in a web of frustration and insecurity. That I don�t really have it together as much as I pretend, that it�s part of an elaborate fa�ade, and that beyond this thing computer monitor, few would bother to listen. From my vantage point, in dark nights of Decatur, I struggle with the conclusion that it may be time to give it up, and resign myself to never making an impact. To growing old alone. I lack the charm, the smile, the laid-back approach that everyone determines as �success,� the coy grin that makes guys swoon and employers respect. The unspoken quality that creates Donald Trumps and Joe Millionaires. And quietly, the security falls away, and I am left bare, trying to remember what it was I was trying to accomplish in the first place.

I think I am going psycho.

before | after

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Goodbye... and EFF YOU! - January 14, 2004
This... sucks. - November 30, 2003
High on Life... and hyper as hell. - November 28, 2003
Happy Thanksgiving, not so happy. - November 27, 2003... Thanksgiving Day
100 exciting things about me... hehe,.. not. - November 25, 2003