Can’t Reach That Shelf


After looking at how all of the words were either misspelled or just didn’t make sense, I’m embarrassed to write many days.  I just don’t know how many more of these I have within me.  Seeing the decline hurts.  Knowing that words that used to fly out are now sitting on a shelf in a jar marked “Do Not Touch”.  There’s something I want to get out and hopefully it means something to someone.  Really anyone?

Like the Queen song “And bad mistakes, I’ve made a few”.  For a long time I have kept a tight grip on my guilt.  It’s like a second skin I wear underneath my clothes.  Forgiveness isn’t going to come.  Not from the only person it truly matters, myself.  As this stupid cancer is making things harder, I can’t keep from clinging to the idea it has always been my fault and my punishment.

If it were any other person, I would tell them they needed to stop.  Stop thinking that way, make sure to get help and find a way to live with their life.

It’s absolutely impossible for me to hear my own words.  They get drowned out by the other voices.

Guilt is a horrible thing.  It is good to feel, but not to make it who you are and what you show the world.

Having someone leave me a note that said “I am always sorry I can’t give you more, that I cannot do more” brings me to tears.  They’ve given me so much and for them to think they aren’t enough, it’s just wrong.  It has always been about my inability to fix myself, not the daily kindness they show me.

At some point I’ll no longer be able to fix a cup of tea let alone fix the world’s problems.

I wish I had never let someone get inside my head.  Now when I want to reach out to people I can’t.  But I still long for that feeling when someone just grips my hand and gives it a squeeze.

What’s is my point?  Learn to forgive yourself for whatever you may carry on your shoulders.  The people who love you, care about you, they’ll help if you let them.


Am I Enough? My reply to the Daily Post

If you didn’t read the original posting, take the time to do it otherwise this might seem disjointed.  or maybe it’s just the nice selection of Pharmaceutical Grade painkillers they gave me to help me get some rest?

So far this evening I’ve had a parade of people come in a try to tell me that everything is going to be fine.  That when this is over sometime tomorrow afternoon that we will have corrected the problem of this stupid tumor in my head.  Of course had things gone according to plan, we’d be past this particular hurdle.  I do sometimes wonder if I have heard enough of the off-color jokes to complete my own compendium.  One of these nurses should either go out on tour or possibly have a long talk with the Human Resources Department about workplace etiquette.

Are we ever really enough for others?  Can someone reach a point where they feel that their best just doesn’t measure up or even get some consideration?  I guess it all becomes a matter of personal value and self-worth.  Two things currently lacking in my personal life.  I’d hoped by now to be more than a cliche, a guy whose value is determined by the level of workplace success he has.  But doubt is a fun thing to deal with.

When I’m writing there are times when it comes out just as my mind is forming it.  As if the reader were in the room and we conversed.  Other times I hold back because the reader isn’t quite the target of the comments, but they are like a third wheel getting to watch the evolution of a relationship, or the disintegration of a relationship.  That’s always the fun seat to be in.  Driving from one place to another, trapped with a couple fighting.  Been there, don’t care for it!

Today when I named Abigail for the public to recognize; at a time when I worry about the next round of something medical robbing me of some precious moment, I wanted the world to have a record of her.  Proof beyond a bright spot in my life that she existed.  Never long enough for me, but that was beyond my abilities.  That sounds odd, but no one in my family talks about her with me.  My mom tries, but she just see the hurt in my eyes and stops.  Putting her name out there makes her real for everyone, not just Lary’s daughter, but a person with value beyond a story line.

And that’s what is important, letting someone know they have value.  Even the youngest of child can have the biggest impact on a life.  Her deeds don’t go beyond family, they never needed to.  Like I told the former Mrs. Lary, I was never prouder than when she tried anything.  Succeed, Fail, something in-between?  It was about not letting doubt win.

Wish I had taken that advice when I let her mother win by placing such doubt in my mind that I felt I failed at everything.

Am I enough?  I try to be the best version of who I am, of whom I can be.  While I don’t know how others see me anymore, I do know that I sometimes don’t like what I see in myself.  That’s a battle worth fighting,