The Written Addiction

Pulling a Trick – Entry Nine

October 21, 2024 7:09 am

I never knew the answers to the question regarding the when, where or why we seek approval.
I’m not so sure why this is so important to us.
Why do we care about what other people think?
Why do we take so much to heart and, more to the point, why do we personalize the insults from someone who is unnecessary or essentially unimportant?
I think these are great questions.
Why we do we take on the sins of the world, or blame ourselves for the crazy out-of-control fiascos which we see on a daily basis?

On another note, why do we focus on irreconcilable differences or talk about the unworthy relationships, as if investing more or trying harder will magically make a person change or turn around and say, “hey, ya know what? I was wrong,” and “I’m really sorry.”
This is not to say that this does not happen. This is not to say that everyone is twisting their mustache, as if to plan some evil plot; however, the idea of “everyone for themselves,” is very real and true.

There are bouts of selfishness which happen when we need to make a decision for ourselves. For our sanity and our best interest, there are times when we have to choose to close the door or walk away.
There are times when we have to make the sad choice to walk away, and worse, there are times when we experience the death of someone who is alive and well.

Yes, there are good people in this world. And yes, there are people who will be by your side. There are people who will care for you, who will stand by you, through thick and thin and, of course, there are good people in this world who will give the shirt of their back.
Of course, there are people who will be there when you need them.
I know this for sure, the same as I know there are people who will be there, even when you don’t need them.
Yes, I believe this is true.
I believe there are fair weathered friends. I believe there are people who can smile to your face while sharpening the knives they hold for your back.
I think this is equally true to say because the same as there are good people, there are bad people too.
We know this.
There will always be wolves in sheep’s clothing.
There will always be someone who looks to take down what takes someone else a lifetime to build.
There will always be someone eager to point out your flaws. From my perspective, there is always someone out there who loves to point out the typos and errors, but such is the life of a somewhat aspiring writer, hopeful and dreamy, but still—I digress.

There is no magic here, but there is a trick.
The trick is to stay alive and keep sane to the best of our ability, which means when people show you who they are, believe them.
When you tell someone, “hey, I’m not happy and I need something to change,” but they do nothing, then it’s time to understand that they have different priorities, which is neither good nor bad or right or wrong—it just “is.”

You have to save yourself.
You have to get up, dress up, show up, and play the part, every day, from now until the hour of our death (Amen).

There needn’t be any ultimatums or threats and unheeded warnings, thoughts or feelings. When people do not listen to you, then it’s your turn to realize who you are on their list of priorities.

Do not give in. Do not go back to the places where you struggled to get away from, just to return and find out that you just willingly volunteered for more of the same.

Do not live life in the rearview mirror.
Understand that there is a great life, just waiting to be lived. There is more in store, and understand that the magic show ahead of you is more miraculous than you could possibly imagine.
Well . . .
At least, this is what I tell myself.

Life is hard.

It is not an easy thing to dust yourself off, sometimes. It is not easy to process life, as it is, and there is an unfortunate truth that it is easy to lose oneself to the comments from the critics, or to personalize the unsolicited comments from the passerby who never dared or never knew what you went though in the first place.

I am not finished with my work and just for the record, my trick is still in the planning stages. I am not sure if I will ever have the chance to pull this off and if I will ever reach that next best level.
But I’m trying.
I understand how easy it is to slip into the abyss of what other people think or say. I understand the word codependency and I know all about people-pleasing, all too well.
I know about my insecurity on a first-name basis.
I know about depression and anxiety.
As a matter of fact, I call this me.
At the same time, I have vision.
I have this dream and whether I learn to achieve this or find a way to pull my trick, at least, I know that I’m alive and working on making tomorrow a little better than today.

I’m just moving.
That’s all.
Perhaps I can only move in small increments and maybe my steps are only baby steps, but for the record, at least I didn’t quit.
I still have this place in my head, which is what I like to call my mental studio. This is my lab, so to speak, which is where I do my studies and practice my trick.
This is where I come to calculate the lines between here and tomorrow. This is where I practice my art—good or bad, liked or not—and regardless of pass or fail, at least I can say that I showed up.

No matter what.

Oh, and as for the critics?
Or as for the people who smile as they point at your flaws . . .
Or as for those who look to destroy what other people will sweat and bleed to build or create, there is no magic in their art.
No, I find them to be artless and loveless, bland and unappealing.
There is no art in their skills.
There is only an ill-will and a shaded heart that cannot see the sunrise, or appreciate the sunset, and in the end, all that person will ever know is how they put down the effort of those who tried and died or bled and sweat.

I’m not bleeding today.
I can’t say that I am unscathed and that I’m not hurt.
But I can say this—at least I showed up, hated or not, and I took another swing at this journal.

At least, I showed up to write another passage, or create another entry. Regardless of anyone or anything, I did not quit—even if I wanted to.

To me, I say that’s better than magical.
I say this is a miracle.
And that my friend, is one hell of a trick
(if you ask me).