Don’t Even…

…think about it.

I’m tired of setbacks. I really am. Setbacks are the stuff failures are made of. Failures that usually happen on the way to success or yet the ultimate fail. One of those premature kind of failures that prevent even more failures by making its subject quit. “Stop! Can’t take it no more,” that is just one of the conniving thoughts that follow. They bury themselves deep within one’s psyche to torment when the time is right. This type of failure wants to ensure its own success. This type of failure will not take no for an answer… well, it won’t take a yes. It is expecting a no.

Funny how this creeps up, silently reaches around and slaps you across the face when you least expect it. Maybe the different types of failures can communicate with each other?

“Hey, listen up! Subject is experiencing unrelated setback. The time is now. Take it if you can. Strike, do your thing, but you better remember me when the time comes!”

I’m sitting in front of my sewing machine, a massive pile of snuggle flannel on my lap, being poked by stick pins randomly as I move the pile of material around to allow me to continue my work, with the clock running backwards. Yes. Time has actually reversed itself. I am going backwards. What should have been a completed project by now, or close to being done, has literally taken a 90-degree turn for the worse. I am deeply in thought, thoughts required to undo the damage that had been done by failing to read the proper measurement off the pattern chart I had meticulously drawn on my iPad. The road map to finding my way through territory I know almost nothing about. I’m shooting from the hip, learning as I go. I jump every time I prick myself and as I suck on one of my assaulted fingers, I notice that I have tears running down my cheeks and I just feel awful. Depressed would probably be the proper term to use. What the hell? I don’t know what and I don’t know how, but it seems that I am running the risk of dissolving into snot and water. I finally get up, toss the cursed pile of 100% cotton on my desk and have myself a good girl moment.

Another setback. Yeah. Didn’t pay attention, didn’t double-check, and here I am having wasted three hours already, have pricked myself so many times that I gave up on pinning my work altogether; and somehow have realized — through some weird associative moment — that I am maxed out on setbacks. I can’t take them anymore. I want to quit. I really do. I want to quit all this nonsense and not worry about it anymore.

I cannot operate without proper motivation. I haven’t been to the gym in over five months. Ever since I had a cold and felt weak for a few weeks. I hadn’t bothered going back, because subconsciously I knew that the reason for me working out in the first place is pretty stupid.

What the hell was I thinking?!?

I also found something out about myself: Although I despise absolutes, I need definity. Yes, I know it’s not a proper word, but I’m using it anyway. “Definitive” doesn’t fit, even though it can be used as a noun. I like “definity”. Infinity is a word, so why can’t definity? Oh well. It should be pretty clear as to what I’m getting at: I hate doing stuff that’s “just in case” or preparing myself for something that may never happen. I don’t like doing shit for no reason, in other words. That’s why I hate endless drills and training (learned that one in the military: all worked up and nobody to kill and nothing to blow up). That’s why I hate working out. Stepping on a treadmill and running in place for 45 minutes isn’t my idea of a good time, neither does it seem very beneficial (at that moment) and it damn sure is boring as hell. Now give me some focus and I’ll have the thing smokin’ by the time I get off of it. I have lost my focus, because every time it seems that I take a step in the right direction, I’ll end up two steps back.

The question: how do you overcome this dilemma? How do you keep on keeping on, even though you have no clue if it’ll ever pay off in the end, or if you are putting yourself, your family, your wallet, your own sanity through the wringer for it.

How do you tell the person, who tells you that you’ve gone way too far… no, correction: have come way too far to throw in the towel now? How do you tell them that you don’t want to do it anymore. Even though they have sacrificed more than expected or required of their own dream to make yours a reality? How do you quit when you really don’t want to, but believe you have to for your own sanity’s sake? I’ve tried quitting before, and I was told that failure was not an option. That we are a team and I am not quitting, because I don’t really want to. Quitting is the equivalent of not being patient. But it’s more than that. I can’t see how it is even possible.

Maybe I’m asking the wrong question here…

How in the hell do you work through setback after setback and keep on going???

If anybody knows the secret, please let me know. Because, I am freakin’ tired and I can see myself totally doing the proverbial face-plant inches before the proverbial finish line after just having run the proverbial marathon.

What the hell was I thinking?!?

Q: And what are you talking about anyway? WTF?!?
A: I void warranties.

2 Comments on “Don’t Even…”

  1. Don’t think about it and just keep plugging. Or think about it, and keep plugging. Just keep keeping-on. Put your mind in a place of despair, or of joy, or whatever, just keep moving. Hate your life, yourself, or the people around you, or don’t. Do what you must to just keep going. Eventually, you’ll get through it and look back on it and say something like: “I’m glad that’s done with”, or “That wasn’t so bad”. This is the season for depression, and eventually, it will be worth it again. Just get through it.

    • MissBusa says:

      I am. Thank you. 🙂 Even though I was also told that “quitting was not an option”, when actually placed before the choice to give up on racing, I had to realize that I don’t really WANT to quit; that it was just frustration with lack of progress that got to me. (In addition to various other life stresses that seem to culminate in this dreadful of seasons…) Hopefully I’ll remember next time I get fed up.

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