Quaking

What to remember when nothing seems to be going the way it’s supposed to.

Fuck.

I just don’t know. But I do know. But I don’t. What the fuck is happening here?

Ever have those moments when you sit alone and feel nothing but utter confusion? When you are so certain of something that it makes you so completely unsure of everything? Ever just sit and want to say “fuck it” but know surrendering is the absolute worst thing you can do?

Yeah, that’s where I am. I’m swirling in a stew of mental shit. Nothing I say or write or think seems to make sense. Nothing I want is jiving with what I think I deserve. As a man who trusts his instincts, the earthquakes come the moment the line between lies of my brain blur the truth of my gut. It just, frankly, sucks.

I’ve certainly been here before. Many times in fact, but I hate fucking quaking in my own skin. I hate being unsure of others, and the fact that my doubt in them matters. I hate being owned by misconception, but most of all I hate when I can’t tell the difference between misconception and reality. I want truth motherfucker, period.

So what is the truth?

The truth is that I am a badass, and I don’t need to quake. I can look myself right in the eye and say “stop it, asshole.” Then, even if the quakes continue, my badass self becomes the rock on which I can anchor everything.

The truth is that even when things don’t work out my way, they do. I’ve been through a lot of shit in my day but nothing, and I mean nothing, has kept me down. Through the litany of nonsense I’ve lived through one thing is for certain, stuff has always worked out in my favor. It may not have worked out as quickly as I would have liked, but work out it did.

The truth is that I am entitled to my fears. I’ve earned them. I’ve earned every single fucking voice in my head, and I’ve earned ever single scar on my heart. I don’t need to act brave, I need to be brave. I don’t need to act strong, I need to be strong. An act (noun) is nothing more than a lie, while being (verb) is a monumental task of our fundamental truth.

The truth is that I am entitled to being so fucked up that the badass, courageous me takes a moment to struggle in my uncertainty. After all, how can a warrior exist if there is nothing to overcome? I allow my quaking self to exist just long enough to give the warrior in me something to do.

Few things are better than when the quaking stops because I make it stop. At the moment when “fuck it” ceases to be a white flag of surrender, it becomes a battle cry. It’s the moment when the warrior unsheathes his sword to end the nonsense he has created within himself.

Survive, dude. Then live

We all quake. We all shiver in the warmth of our own mental piss. We all fall and we all seek the easy way. It’s as natural as a heartbeat. However, what is also natural is the desire to survive. Survival, for me, has never been enough. What survival has been is the first step toward living.

By “living” I don’t mean the act of breathing. Anyone can breathe. What I mean by “living” is actually making your survival mean something. For me, I want to frolic, to play, and to do meaningful work. I want to stare at the stars, make love under the Moon, fuck under the Sun, and run wild where only the beasts dare go. I want to leave my footprints in the mud and my sweat as part of the earth. Mostly, though, I want the motherfucking truth in all its forms and entanglements.

Each person’s definition of “living” is different. The question of what “living” means is a worthwhile question to explore and, once that answer is found, don’t just survive. Live.

In the end, the most important part of whatever is etched into our tombstones isn’t the date of our birth or the date of our death. The most important part is the dash that separates them. That simple line is the unalienable truth of how we spent that short, finite time blessed to us. It’s the symbol of how we lived.

And now…

The quaking seems over. I looked the beast in the eye and dared it to fuck with me more. It backed down, likely remembering other times when I kicked its ass. I know he’ll be back, however. He always comes back. I must be ready.