It’s Actually Me Who Controls My Feelings
Teaching Myself To Be Fearless
You know what? I’m not going to take this sitting down. Well, hang on, I am sitting down to write this, but I’m still not going to take it.
Over the last few days, I’ve allowed all the things happening in this crazy f*cked up world of ours to drive me almost bat-sh*t insane, and I’m tired of the way I’ve been feeling lately.
I’m tired of feeling helpless, of suffering a permanent brain freeze, afraid to even think about creating something simply because of all the scary things going on in my tiny part of the world.
Screw that. I’m done.
I’m the one who controls how I feel from second to second. Not some crazed microbiological assassin that even now, is roaming the planet looking to score a couple of million victims. Not some insane politician who worries more about his money, his golf courses or his status, and could give a rat’s *ss about how many of us give up the ghost.
Not hordes of panic-induced, mindless #mefirst bozos who make things even worse than they are, if that’s even possible, with all of their doomsday predictions and prognostications.
Dear Zombies — if the apocalypse does happen, will you please eat them first?
It’s quite clear to see they aren’t using the brains God/Goddess gave them. All of you walking dead may as well chow down. But I warn you ghoulies in advance, these idiots probably have brains about the size of a chickpea.
Think appetizers, not entrées.
I’m sick and tired of allowing other people or happenstances control how I feel about myself, my writing, and what I think. I’m dead*ssed tired of feeling bad about myself because I can’t get published in a publication, find an agent or score writing work.
I control my emotions and how I feel, and I need to start feeling fearless again.
Now having said that, I also understand I hold sway over mashing my stupid button. Fearless doesn’t mean risking maximum exposure to that microbiological nightmare out there by not following basic commonsense rules.
Rules like staying at home and washing my d*mned hands a lot and a minimum of twenty seconds each time. Rules like social distancing myself from work, my one friend, and my family.
Which with my wife and I is pretty easy because we’re freaking hermits anyway. Socializing for us means knocking back a few glasses of wine and talking nonsense until it gets late.
Like eight-thirty late and then we go to bed.
Rules like shopping for only what we need, and when stores don’t have things in stock like paper towels, hand sanitizer, toilet paper (still) and chili sauce, and hot dog buns, we learn to improvise.
Yes, chili sauce and hot dog buns. Whoever is panic buying all the f*cking chili sauce and hot dog buns will you just put on the f*cking breaks for a minute?
Oh, and Cadbury Eggs. Never get caught in an apocalypse without those suckers, folks.
The point to all this ranting is that some time a couple of weeks ago, I allowed all the bad things happening in this world and a sociopath *sshole at my work to flip my control switch to the off position. I let those unpleasant, terribly uncomfortable things control me, dictate how I feel.
Ah, but not anymore. Today, I’m teaching myself to be fearless again.
Today, by God/Goddess, I’m flipping that son of a b*tch control switch back on. There’s only so much I can take of letting other things or other people control how I feel.
Sure, things may get a lot worse for us all before they get better, but I cannot, nor will I, let anyone or anything control how I feel about myself as I did for the last few weeks.
From here on and going forward, whether or not I allow outside influences of any kind to change the way I feel about myself is my bad, totally my bad.
Although I let it happen a lot longer than I should have, there’s only so much I can take before I rise up against it and fight back.
Even though I’m still sitting down doesn’t mean I ain’t fighting.
Thanks So Much For Reading
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