Lesson 009 ~Man, Kind~

Hey Lu,
I came to a realization today, well it’s not something I didn’t already know, not something that doesn’t come with an asterisk, hell I might change my mind about saying it considering how this goes. Now if you’ll allow me to get my Bill on… Kill Bill let me say first off there was this wrestler back in the day because I rarely watch wrestling now known as Mick Foley or his in-ring persona Mankind.

“Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He’s weak… he’s unsure of himself… he’s a coward. Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole human race.” Bill

If you asked me Lady Lu to describe a man I wouldn’t know where to begin, I’d have an easier time describing you but how “skeevy” of me so I will not indulge. Now what about this wrestler I remember, Mankind, he was crazy, damn near suicidal, but always left with “Have A Nice Day”. The thing is, this man was larger than life, an icon and sure it was all for entertainment purposes but how did he do it, first with the mask and then he didn’t need it.

“Don’t try to be a great man. Just be a man, and let history make its own judgments.” Zefram Cochrane

Luna this is what I’m trying, honestly, now you know the dreams I have and the things I want to do in my life but if I could just, make it through the day like any normal individual… So if I can’t be a man, what am I, no not going in that direction, what I mean is that I’m not growing up and that’s what I was thinking about last night. If I told you everything I haven’t done, things that I absolutely refuse to do, I would call myself a bad man indeed.

Now I mean that in two different ways the first being, my anger, every day it’s the same thing, things I’m mad about today, didn’t finish editing my latest chapter in my novel, my neighbor’s dog went missing, and of course work tomorrow, hoping for indifference. On the other side of the coin is the things any man is supposed to be able to do, you could call me a spoiled upper-middle-class rich kid, or how about all the writing I have been doing lately?

A man wouldn’t let some stupid words from a person faze him, go on about my day and continue business per usual, a symptom of my anxiety though. Now this isn’t the realization I had but I’m starting to think of my anxiety as a true illness, of course, it’s an illness but I was thinking more physical for once.

“How? How can I do what is needed, when all I feel is… hate.” – The Mask of Zorro (1998)

So I hide behind a mask and it’s like every day which one will it be, currently I’m letting my medication decide that for me because I was truly getting sick of making the effort. For a while, it has been all my anger, what’s wrong with hate, just like love, or freedom there are wrong ways to go about it, which is why for the most part I focus on myself. Fear is the other, and as much as I want to say there is something missing chemical, some earth shattering moment, an ideology that I could embrace, to put it simply there is some little boy that a long time ago was told nothing but to shut up.

“How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death.” Blind Prisoner – The Dark Knight Rises

That’s why it feels so herculean even to get out of bed because I feel like a little boy being constantly forced to move through this universe when he was told, that’s not for you, you’ll never be ready and the like. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t fear death for my sake, there is a little four-legged ball of fluff that depends on me and that’s why I do the things I do. Only the anxiety is never going anywhere, you know I got the sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t physically growing because my body knew I couldn’t afford to have that happen.

I grow, I need money, I work which means more people, I leave my crappy job, my anxiety, more fear, more panic, new job more anxiety, it just goes on and on just like that. It could be something as dumb as seeing a weed in the yard so having to cut the whole thing and then screwing that up so hiding in the house.

Here Luna, in writing I don’t feel that need to hide, that anxiety, or so I thought and then the thing happened and I’ve been writing and I’m sure one day I will be more honest I hope. Anxiety makes me the monster of my own nightmares, I don’t know if that was deep or not but it sounded that way in my head really?

Anxiety will never make me that man, you know the man I have always dreamed of being, the man that I probably already should be. Anxiety is a regressive disease, taking me all the way back to the moment I was… I don’t know what but kids are brave, resilient and I only know fear.

Anxiety will never make me her man, now I could go so far “BDSM’ is as much as you’ll get from me today but I’m talking about the regular Joe, the man that can look after a woman and a family. Stupid thought I had last night was the idea of you know who talking about her stupid, crazy ex-husband and I was thinking I could never be like that, no I’m so much worse.

Anxiety will never make me just a man at all, and that’s who I’m mad at most of all and then again why can’t mankind be, you know, kind? I told a friend the other day that if there is anything mankind excels at, it’s the service of death, is it any wonder that life is such a difficult concept.

So what about my realization, you might already be able to guess but to spell it out… I’m no kind of man, at least not the kind anybody wants around. I’m sorry this came out plenty whinier than I intended but that’s what kids do right whine so what do men do, Man, kind, not.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make the mistake of calling what’s inside me worry. Good men worry. Men like me take care of the problem.”
― Kit Rocha, Beyond Temptation (2014)