Ever get tired of being "the first"? Being the go to guy? Just having to fight damn near everybody, and everything, all the time?
I mean, by all accounts, I've lived a priviledged life. My parents have been together for 21 years (And I just turned 22, which makes for an untold story in and of itself.) Things were rugged for nearly the first half of my life, with my folks going in and out of rehab for alcoholism and nicotine addiction, but they got their shit together, worked hard, and provided for me and the younger two.
I'm the oldest; the firstborn child. I'm my father's namesake. I'm the oldest male out of my grandmother's 15 grandchildren (my family's motto: May not have a job, a place to live, or food to eat, but goddamnit we can FUCK!). I've the opportunity to be the first in my family with a college education. I was the first since my grandfather to try military service.
So its fallen to me to be the one that succeeds... Or atleast the one that succeeds first. My father drank himself out of a track scholarship, then my grandparents and aunt and uncle couldn't afford to keep him in school. He becomes irrationally angry whenever I speak of anything that doesn't involve graduating. Through me he can accomplish what he threw away with alcohol, and when I was born.
I've always taken care of everthing. My brother sticks his hand in an exercise bike, I'm the one that takes it a part and ices his broken fingers until the paramedics come, all the while keeping him calm (Me age 11). My sister gets hit by a car, I call 911, emergency call my parents home from work, and bandage her head while she's bleeding in the middle of the street calling for my mother (Me age 14). Cousin gets beat-up by her boyfriend; I handle it. Father begins questioning if she stay with my mother; I handle it. Math homework; I handle it. Rent money; I handle it. Car breaks down; I handle it. I either can handle it, know how you can handle it, or know a guy who knows a guy that can get things taken care of. (Me age 16-present)
But, people start to get older. They don't need things taken care of quite so much anymore. So you start to try and take care of yourself...
Then the wheels fall off.
Get hurt and have to leave the Air Force Academy; nobody knows how to take care of that. Fall into random bouts of depression, thereby screwing over your grades, relationships with friends, family, and love life; no one knows how to handle that. Start to recover, but have to work two jobs to fund school, fix your car, and help your parents and siblings with their financial troubles; everbody's to busy to help with that. Parents file for bankruptcy, think about getting split up, and curse you out for leaving your job so that you can focus purely on school because you had no clue just how bad off they were; Damn, sucks to be you. Now you're slightly in debt, scrambling for work while trying to maintain a GPA, all the while trying to get the fuck away from everybody; Well... atleast you still have your health?
Oh, did I mention that my hairline is starting to retreat and I'm starting to get a little pudgy because of stress, poor eating habits, and near-inability to properly excercise?
Recently, I can't shake the feeling of being a pseudo-intellectual. A charlatan Strongman. I know things, but I don't seem to know enough. I have an opinion, but it doesn't seem as well informed as everyone elses. I look strong, but I don't feel as strong as I look.
The only solution I can think of is to get away.
But I can't leave; They all need me. They need me more than they hate needing me. I can see it in their eyes.
My father wants me to succeed. Needs me to. And that fact eats at him; makes him bitter and sullen. He came up in a time and a place where sometimes all a black man had was his pride. At times, its all that drives him, makes him get up in the morning. He can't ignore it; can't swallow it; and can never suffer any damage to it. I am the source of his greatest joys, and his greatest injuries, when most of the time I don't feel like being neither. I love the old man more than I want him to just leave me alone, so I endure.
My mother needs me to listen to her, because I'm the only one that does. She needs to feel like there's some substance to what she's accomplished, because there is, more than even she may realize.
My sister and brother need someone to talk to, because they don't know how to talk to anyone else. They yearn to surpass the things that I've done, not knowing they've gifts beyond anything I've ever accomplished. They feel cheated that I was able to benefit from our family's "golden age", and they have to toil, although they were to young to remember me going to school on a -20 degree winter day in nothing but a bunch of sweaters because I gave them my winter clothes. They sometimes take it out on me, because I understand the hormones, and the rage, and the feelings of helplessness and that no one else understands.
Are you still confident if you're only confident in situations that don't involve yourself? I've lead a squadron of 125 in a ceremonial march past 4000 of my peers, and another 1000 or so of some of the most powerful men and women in the known world. I've had meetings with the Honorable Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sen. Jesse Jackson Jr., the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, Lt. Gen. John. D. Hopper Jr. (Highest Ranking African American General) and never broken a sweat.
But I can become downright paralysed when attempting to attract a woman. I know I can write pretty well, or atleast I use to, but for some reason I stopped because I didn't think it was good enough. What happens to rob someone of their personal confidence? And how does it become replaced with a sort of "Leadership" confidence, or even bravado?
In looking back on what I've typed, I haven't the slightest idea why I even began this. Its not in my nature to feel sorry for myself; there's many more worthy causes to feel sorry for. As much as I may want to be helped, I can't really accept it, because that's a part of who I am.
Think I've changed tenses a bunch of times. Misspelled words, used some incorrectly, and generally made this whole thing illegible.
But what's wrote is wrote. To edit anything I've said here would be to fall back into the same rutt, and I don't need that right now.
Suppose everyone needs a release every now and then. Here's my attempt at mine.
I mean, by all accounts, I've lived a priviledged life. My parents have been together for 21 years (And I just turned 22, which makes for an untold story in and of itself.) Things were rugged for nearly the first half of my life, with my folks going in and out of rehab for alcoholism and nicotine addiction, but they got their shit together, worked hard, and provided for me and the younger two.
I'm the oldest; the firstborn child. I'm my father's namesake. I'm the oldest male out of my grandmother's 15 grandchildren (my family's motto: May not have a job, a place to live, or food to eat, but goddamnit we can FUCK!). I've the opportunity to be the first in my family with a college education. I was the first since my grandfather to try military service.
So its fallen to me to be the one that succeeds... Or atleast the one that succeeds first. My father drank himself out of a track scholarship, then my grandparents and aunt and uncle couldn't afford to keep him in school. He becomes irrationally angry whenever I speak of anything that doesn't involve graduating. Through me he can accomplish what he threw away with alcohol, and when I was born.
I've always taken care of everthing. My brother sticks his hand in an exercise bike, I'm the one that takes it a part and ices his broken fingers until the paramedics come, all the while keeping him calm (Me age 11). My sister gets hit by a car, I call 911, emergency call my parents home from work, and bandage her head while she's bleeding in the middle of the street calling for my mother (Me age 14). Cousin gets beat-up by her boyfriend; I handle it. Father begins questioning if she stay with my mother; I handle it. Math homework; I handle it. Rent money; I handle it. Car breaks down; I handle it. I either can handle it, know how you can handle it, or know a guy who knows a guy that can get things taken care of. (Me age 16-present)
But, people start to get older. They don't need things taken care of quite so much anymore. So you start to try and take care of yourself...
Then the wheels fall off.
Get hurt and have to leave the Air Force Academy; nobody knows how to take care of that. Fall into random bouts of depression, thereby screwing over your grades, relationships with friends, family, and love life; no one knows how to handle that. Start to recover, but have to work two jobs to fund school, fix your car, and help your parents and siblings with their financial troubles; everbody's to busy to help with that. Parents file for bankruptcy, think about getting split up, and curse you out for leaving your job so that you can focus purely on school because you had no clue just how bad off they were; Damn, sucks to be you. Now you're slightly in debt, scrambling for work while trying to maintain a GPA, all the while trying to get the fuck away from everybody; Well... atleast you still have your health?
Oh, did I mention that my hairline is starting to retreat and I'm starting to get a little pudgy because of stress, poor eating habits, and near-inability to properly excercise?
Recently, I can't shake the feeling of being a pseudo-intellectual. A charlatan Strongman. I know things, but I don't seem to know enough. I have an opinion, but it doesn't seem as well informed as everyone elses. I look strong, but I don't feel as strong as I look.
The only solution I can think of is to get away.
But I can't leave; They all need me. They need me more than they hate needing me. I can see it in their eyes.
My father wants me to succeed. Needs me to. And that fact eats at him; makes him bitter and sullen. He came up in a time and a place where sometimes all a black man had was his pride. At times, its all that drives him, makes him get up in the morning. He can't ignore it; can't swallow it; and can never suffer any damage to it. I am the source of his greatest joys, and his greatest injuries, when most of the time I don't feel like being neither. I love the old man more than I want him to just leave me alone, so I endure.
My mother needs me to listen to her, because I'm the only one that does. She needs to feel like there's some substance to what she's accomplished, because there is, more than even she may realize.
My sister and brother need someone to talk to, because they don't know how to talk to anyone else. They yearn to surpass the things that I've done, not knowing they've gifts beyond anything I've ever accomplished. They feel cheated that I was able to benefit from our family's "golden age", and they have to toil, although they were to young to remember me going to school on a -20 degree winter day in nothing but a bunch of sweaters because I gave them my winter clothes. They sometimes take it out on me, because I understand the hormones, and the rage, and the feelings of helplessness and that no one else understands.
Are you still confident if you're only confident in situations that don't involve yourself? I've lead a squadron of 125 in a ceremonial march past 4000 of my peers, and another 1000 or so of some of the most powerful men and women in the known world. I've had meetings with the Honorable Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sen. Jesse Jackson Jr., the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, Lt. Gen. John. D. Hopper Jr. (Highest Ranking African American General) and never broken a sweat.
But I can become downright paralysed when attempting to attract a woman. I know I can write pretty well, or atleast I use to, but for some reason I stopped because I didn't think it was good enough. What happens to rob someone of their personal confidence? And how does it become replaced with a sort of "Leadership" confidence, or even bravado?
In looking back on what I've typed, I haven't the slightest idea why I even began this. Its not in my nature to feel sorry for myself; there's many more worthy causes to feel sorry for. As much as I may want to be helped, I can't really accept it, because that's a part of who I am.
Think I've changed tenses a bunch of times. Misspelled words, used some incorrectly, and generally made this whole thing illegible.
But what's wrote is wrote. To edit anything I've said here would be to fall back into the same rutt, and I don't need that right now.
Suppose everyone needs a release every now and then. Here's my attempt at mine.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
And no problem with the nerdfest. I'm glad to use my awesome powers for good and not evil. And once I figure out how to use my powers of gaming for evil, rest assured, I will be feeling the pull and tug of that little angel and devil on my shoulder. And I'm sure they'll roll Charisma checks to see who persuades me the most. HA!
Okay, nerd humor is even kind of lame in digital form. Basically, have fun. That's what gamesa are for, after all.