An Outlet

It's easy to be optimistic when everything is going your way. It's no problem at all to say "hang in there, it will get better." To dream incredible dreams, and to smile despite the rain. It's easy as hell when everything is going your way.

But, when you lose that job unexpectedly, when your kids don't want to be around you anymore, when your spouse leaves you, when you owe so much debt, the only salvation is hoping you can get away with a bank heist, then what? Then, do you look at the skies, and think to yourself "Oh, what a beautiful life this is! Oh, how lucky I am to be alive, even though sometimes bad things happen!" Do you still feel optimistic when the crushing reality of jail time over unpaid bills is staring you in the face? When the IRS wants to just speak with you about some questions they had about your last few returns? When you see the woman who used to be yours, out happier with another man than she ever was with you? What then, I ask you? How easy it then?

Most of these things aren't in my life (at the moment), and for that I am thankful. I am guilty of being someone who seems to let everything roll right off my tail feathers, who's always "looking on the bright side". I've been called "Mr. Zen", "Silver Lining", and a few others, but there is something people don't realize about folks like you and me. Sometimes, we collapse for no real good reason.

We spend all of our time smiling, searching out optimism, and then, one lone thought, one sideways look, and we spiral off into the deep end.

Right now, in my life, I am working toward, and mostly succeeding at, a few things that make me happy. I am a healthy male in one of the most powerful countries in the world, who can read, write, eat and sleep in peace. I own two cars, and I have a comfortable home. I have lots of cool stuff, a beautiful wife, two great kids, and talent in some fields. I am truly lucky, and I know it. Even if you pick just two of those things I just mentioned, you are lucky. Sometimes though, I fail to see that. Sometimes, I get a phone call, or it can even be as small as a missed call from a number I don't want to see, and it's all over. I avoid the call. I focus solely on how terrible the outcome of it is going to be. I think about it for days and tell myself it doesn't matter. The fucked up thing is, it usually doesn't. After a few days of feeling bad about it, feeling defeated, I pick my balls up, and call back. It's usually nothing. It's usually something easily handled. I always feel better afterward. So, why do I get all worked up about it in the first place?

Panic, I suppose. The other day, my bank account went into overdraft by quite a bit, for a .92 charge. Ninety-two cents. I panicked. I didn't have the money until I got paid in a week and a half, and by then, the overdraft fee would be more than my paycheck, and who knows what then. My chest was heavy, I couldn't think straight, I was the shittiest person alive, in my opinion. I mean, who can't keep their fucking bank account balanced? What kind of asshole?

But, what good does that do?

So, I called the bank. I told them it was ninety-two cents, I could cover it easily, and asked them if they would remove the charge, and just like that, they did. Problem solved. I could have just called myself an asshole all day, and been fucked, but instead I took action, and solved the problem.

Still though, not all problems are solved that easily. Sometimes you can't fix shit with a phonecall. Sometimes you will lose. Sometimes you will suffer. Sometimes you need an outlet.

Like music, or art. Or writing.

I feel better all ready.