RESPONSIBILITIES WRITING AND FUCKS
I was talking to one of my very best friends yesterday and he asked if this blog made me happy or if I was over analyzing it (read: ruining it) for any of a number of reasons. Drum roll please.....I told him I was actually very proud of it and had realized a lot about how I write. I know. I’ll give you a moment to let the dust settle or for you to wipe up the coffee you just spit out. I’ll say it again. On the day of our Lord, January second, two thousand twenty, Pat Fellows outwardly said he was proud of something besides his wife and kids AND had positive examples of why.
Apparently, pigs do fly.
For those of you new to this little show, I beleaguer and battle an intense sense of dissatisfaction with most things I do. While I know it’s not attainable, I seem to get little joy out of anything but executing extremely difficult things, or tend to diminish the things I do accomplish as achieving those as my expectation. It’s ridiculous and exhausting and I know this. It doesn’t change how I handle things one iota.
If I pull off a feat, or achieve something but through last minute scrambling and poor planning, I don’t allow that to count because I could have worked better leading up to it, making it less stressful on me and others. If I do Ironman or similar, I write it off as not going fast enough, or “just part of what I do.” When our team pulls of a great event, I am the first to diminish my role, not just because it’s a team effort, but again because that’s just what we do. All of the above actions suck the marrow out of life and fun and achievement and can leave me wondering, “Well, what’s even worth doing then?”
The good news is I realize there’s a lot worth doing. I truly do find happiness in helping others reach their goals, and help them fight off the same dissatisfaction that can creep. I am taking an active role in questioning how, what, and especially WHY I want to race and trying to pick things I think will give me satisfaction when completed (PR’ing the 5k at 48, swimming the English Channel in 2021).
I subscribe to very few things that I actually read, but one of them is the Mark Manson MFM (Motherfucking Monday). newsletter I’ve been told that he and I are very much alike from a content standpoint. He and I both dealing in a straight ahead, no bullshit format. I can see it, for sure, but even with the straight ahead, he’s much more thought out and planned than I am. Maybe he wasn’t when he started, but that’s what I see. Anyhow, in one recent post he said something to the affect of “We help others to avoid the RESPONSIBILITY of helping ourselves.” Like those of you reading this who have said I must be in your thoughts, I now know that feeling. THIS IS HOW I FEEL.
The responsibility to help ourselves is a true mother fucker. Fixing someone else or giving them advice is super easy, and for the most part is a one way transaction. You say “I’m not sure I can do that.” I say, “You’re full of shit, of course you can, you just DON’T WANT TO yet.” You say “Wow, you’re right.” then go do the thing as I head back to wonder if I’m a fraud and have more coffee. Fixing me, well apparently I HAVEN’T DECIDED or DON’T WANT TO badly enough yet.
The CAPS above are shouting. Because that’s the fucking truth none of us want to see, say, or do. Because it’s fucking hard and it makes you question if you’re good enough, and makes you wonder if you ever will be. NOTE: THIS IS MOSTLY THROUGH YOUR EYES.
So yes, My friend asked if I was proud or happy with how this writing thing was going, complimented me on how awesome it was that I had kept writing for a year, and instead of saying “Well, I’m no fucking Stephen King,” I said, “I am proud of it.” Don’t get me wrong, I did tell him I’d shit the bed on some posts and that some of it was total garbage, but for 90% of it, I was pretty stoked. If you know anything about grades, 90 is an A, of which I received precious few of in college (3 maybe?)
I have in the past months looked back at my writing and compared it to others, as well as looked at novels and wondered if I should try to write that way. I shouldn’t. I should write like this. Slightly disjointed at times with a need of editing and punctuation, but just like this. Filled with fucks, and honesty, and transparency, and half baked ideas, and poorly supported arguments, and CAPS WHERE I FUCKING CHOOSE. So I do.
12,000 different people arrived here from 50+ countries last year, so no, I don’t need to write the next Pet Cemetery or even the next Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck (Mark Manson’s book). I need to show up as often as I can, help anyone I can through sharing an idea, be proud, and move the fuck along to the next thing.
I’ll work on the responsibility to fix myself, a little at a time.
#hugsandhi5s
