hats off to you

Alright. While I don't necessarily believe in retractions, in print or in LIFE unless you are truly and deeply remorseful, I would perhaps like to make an amendment to an earlier discouraging statement I made about bad shoes. (See this entry for details.)

Rock-bottom is more like a branded baseball cap. A brimmed accessory (and now mandatory uniform requirement) to further confirm that yes, this is my real life, yes, I do still have the job of a high school student and the resume to prove it, and yes, facing your nine-hour work day just got monumentally more difficult over the inclusion of a mere head adornment, a physical and embarrassing reminder of the fact that you aren't exactly going anywhere fast.

I know, I know. As I discussed with a dear co-worker the other day, perhaps it isn't the worst thing in the world, or the end of it. But don't let anyone guilt you out of the sore points in your life. No, I'm not saying it would be better if we all dwelt on our hardships and pouted in the face of all the things we disliked about living. But the second someone tells you it could be worse, even though they MIGHT BE RIGHT, my favorite comeback is sure, but things could also. be. better.

Even though the hat, may it be damned, symbolizes a whole lot freaking more than what it looks like, there is a point in all situations where we face a choice. In my particular instance, I was faced with three (yes, three) options, all of which were, pardon my dictation, total shit. No option promised me any reward, any compensation for what has been endured, and all I wanted was some confirmed sense of gratification, whether now or soon coming.

Well, tough, said the world, tucking the cap snug onto my head, not an easy task considering the mane of hair which I daily wrestle into submission. Tough and tougher.

Even though the heart of me, the piece of my being that keeps this whole thing going, beats RUN:RUN:RUN, over and over again, and even though of all options before me escaping seemed like the most doable one, the one I had the best chance of surviving, the one I could see the instant benefit to, my feet, somehow momentarily separate from the rest of me, were planted firm where they stood.

Why stay, I wanted to ask them. What for?

Well, certainly not for monetary compensation, the rest of me concluded. Sure, a paycheck is a paycheck is a paycheck, but it's not as if I'm making millions in order to counteract the flaws in this siren-clad system. Decency? Surely not that, I scoffed. I mean, look at me, I could say, pointing in any direction to my uniform resembling a Catholic school boy, this apron of awkward length, and of course, this newest addition to my humiliation, the hat. Not for the experience, not for the reward of learning, right? If this isn't going to assist me in getting where I want to go, if it isn't going to push me in the right direction, or perhaps any direction at all, WHY STAY, I demanded of myself. Why stay.

Okay, okay. While I do believe in a time and a place for all things, and that knowing there is always a point when it is acceptable to stand up and say ENOUGH, the truth is, running away from what we label as "suffering" or "difficulty" isn't the always the answer. At least, not the instant one. Though we all have tolerance of different levels, sometimes what gets us beyond suffering is the way we get through it, not the way we back away from it. For most people, you will know when you have reached your limits, and I was sure I was at the brink of mine, at the very ends of the earth, dangerously close to falling off the edge. Though I don't expect everyone to understand it, it was probably the first time in my life (in my life? really?) that I wasn't on my own side, that I had no faith in my ability to conquer something, to get past an obstacle, to brace myself to walk headfirst through the fire.

The fact is that part of what makes life worth experiencing (even the parts we wish we could skip over) is the fact that it challenges us. It expects us to cave, so we shouldn't. We can be more surprising than that. I would like to be more surprising than that. We should be faking life out, we should be coming back with vengeance, we should be as strong as we claim (and hope) that we are.

I don't know. I don't feel any sense of relief or reward, not yet anyway. In fact, I feel mostly the same. But I am hoping that facing it, this literal and metaphorical fear of mine, is the beginning of something better, if nothing more than a new way of viewing things, or of viewing myself. The second you do the thing you were convinced (and everyone will tell you so) you could not do, the world is wide open again. It can feel pretty good to know you are stronger than you give yourself credit for, even when the situation is staring down at you, snipping at the rope from which you swing. I just remind myself, when I can, when I'm capable: Don't let go yet, don't let go yet.