There was no hiding from myself.
This was it.
There was no way I could deny who I was or what I did. The sound around me was the humming of overhead fluorescent lighting. I could hear some of the drunks howling and retching their dry heaves and vomiting sounds into the mouth of the stainless steel commode, which is a stainless steel toilet in the back, left hand corner of their little holding cell; no seat to lift or shut, and statues up to a small basin with a drinking fountain for water at its top. The lighting was dim. The aroma was damp and reeking of body odor, bathroom function, and cleaning solvent. The place stunk from regret. Then again, so did I.
Note to self: (or to anyone else that relates)
We all have very main and basic needs. We need food and water. We need air to breathe. We need warmth and we need rest. These needs are physical. But we also have the need to be safe, which means to have shelter and security. Next are the needs of intimacy. We need a sense of belongingness. We need to have purpose. We need love. We need interaction and we need intimacy, which comes in different forms aside from just the obvious and the physical.
Before going forward, I will openly expose me to explain why I behaved the way I did to gain a better understanding, which may seem obvious, but who knows, maybe this will help someone gain a new perspective.
When I was young, I believed since there was nothing interesting about my life, I chose to create a new identity to make myself seem more appealing.
We are moving closer to the warmer season now. I think of the marinas and the fishing boats. I think of the breakers and the waves, the beach, the need to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.
I think of the docks, I think about the vessel of my dreams, my boat, and the way it looks in my fantasy. I think of the pilothouse, or the wheelhouse as we call it. I imagine the moments before sunrise at first light and the sound of my diesels as they hum like an anxious pony just aching to leave her stable.
I know it’s been a while since my last letter. A lot has gone on. Good things happened. Bad things too. I swear, life is hard to keep up with sometimes. But I keep swinging. I keep moving and I’ keep trying to find my way. I won’t stop either. I promise.
Of all things you should never have to do, you should never have to do things to prove yourself. Least of all, you should never have to do things to prove you to yourself. You should never have to prove who you are for the obvious reason that you already are who you are. You could never be anyone else. No matter what you do or how hard you try to be anyone else; you will always be you. So make the best of it.
I think of things like little feetie-pajamas.
I think of things like what little kids say
when they’re still young enough to believe in wonderful things,
like the power of a special blanket
or a stuffed animal.
I think about the way a little girl laughs at silly jokes by her Dad,
like, say, “Hey Punky, do you think fish ever get thirsty?”
And then I think of a little girl’s laugh
as she responded, “Silly daddy!”
morning, this morning. I had the chance to do a phone interview with a client
about to face an intense challenge.
I think about the way we interview for a better position or a brand new job. I think about the two sides of the table. I think about the interviewer and the one being interviewed. People tend to forget that interviews work both ways. The employer is looking for their best candidate. The candidate is looking for their best employment opportunity, which basically puts both sides on an even playing field. Put simply; the goal here is to maintain a mutually beneficial relationship. I advised this during a focus on confidence coaching.
I would like to share what Sunday morning looks like to me. I wake early before the sun and I head into the kitchen. I move slowly, tired but yet, I’m awake.
I go over to my trusty friend the coffee machine. I proceed to the cabinet where I fetch my cup and place the cup beneath the little spout, which is where the coffee gods deliver their nectar.
I push a little blue light, which creates a quick electrical sound that follows with the dribble of water falling into the echo of my empty coffee cup.
I like this sound by the way. I love the smell of my coffee being brewed.
We were all kids at the time. We were just a bunch of kids living in a small town, no better or worse than anyplace else. We were the middle class.We were the average (at best.) We thought we knew what we were talking about. We thought we knew what we were doing. Then again, so does every kid.