Letting Go

I am not good at letting go. It is a problem. I don’t let go of most things very easily. Mistakes, hurts, real or otherwise all stay with me. It is part of my character and a part that I am not real happy about.

It is why I remember the guy that tried to sleep with my girlfriend in 1988 and I still think about punching him in the mouth. Ok, that guy was a jackass who had a history of being a jerk to me and my friends that began long before ’88 and he really does deserve a swift kick in the ass.

In case you are curious I have run into him on a number of occasions and never have touched him but then again I don’t even acknowledge him and the truth of the matter is that unless there is some reason to think about him, I don’t. That incident irked me, but I can’t really say that it still bothers me.

Life experience has taught me how to get beyond it and I have, but there are some other wounds that never healed as well as they could have. What I am saying folks is that I have a little baggage and that sometimes it floats to the surface.

The past two weeks have been rough. Some of those suitcases have fallen out of the attic and are banging around the living room. I made a foolish mistake today. It was bush league and just dumb, but it is one of those things that you have to put behind you. I did, but it took me a long time, much longer than normal.

I am feeling a little beat up. I am not as tough mentally as I want to be and right now I am seeing the impact and effect. I’ll get beyond this because that is what I do. Ultimately I am a crusty old curmudgeon and a street fighter. I get over the humps in life because that is what I want to do and how I live.

It might be easier if I didn’t feel like I was getting pelted with small rocks and didn’t keep tripping and rolling down the bumpy incline. My knees are skinned, my pride is wounded and my confidence is shaken but not stirred. I’ll recover because sometimes there is no choice.

But more than anything else, the look that I recieve from my children reminds me that there are people who think that I am superman and for them I can take the bullet and make it bounce off of my chest.

Life is tough, but I am tougher. All I need to do to really start cooking again is to just let go.

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