Self Counselling

People can get fucked. It's the conclusion I have drawn since my last self counselling session. In it I waffle and cry about my ego, people not being proud of me and a lack of focus. I potentially attribute it to a past life experience that may or may not have happened. What kind of shite is that?

What the hell do my failings have to do with anyone else? They may be disappointed in me, they may have expected more, but maybe I feel the sting of their scorn because I am disappointed in myself. Maybe I am well fucking aware that I should be achieving more than what I have.

Is this my ego telling me that I am better than what I actually am? That I deserve more than the next person? That things should be easy, because I am me and I am special? Fuck no.

This is me realising that I grew up with a severe case of chest nut syndrome. For those that don't know what that is, let me explain. At some point in a boys life his nuts drop from his near his stomach into his scrotum. This is a sign of maturity, a coming of age so to speak, a transition into being a man. For some, as they age and the stresses of life get to them, they beging to put on weight, they complain about everthing and blame anyone and everyone around them for their current life and shitty emotions. This is a sign that their nuts have regressed back up inside their body, they have chest nut syndrome and simply can not deal with what is happening around them.

For others, like me, their nuts never drop. They are wrapped in cotton wool by mothers and protected from the horrors of the word. They are told they are special and will achieve great things, but are never shown how to work hard to make these predictions come true. They cruise through life thinking that everything will be easy, bad things never happen and they are destined for greatness becuase they were told so from young. As they drift in to obscurity during high school and life becomes tough, they hide behind parties, women and drugs. As their looks start to disappear and the women drift away they spiral in to a hole of self pity unaware that the reason they are where they are is because their nuts never dropped. They never truly became men, they have lived their whole lives with undiagnosed chest nut syndrome.

This is where I was. Drowning in alcohol, drugs and whoever would take me to bed. I got married to an older woman and thought that made me a man. But I was just a lost little boy. At 40 I have trully woken up to this fact and now it's all about curing my affliction. To do so I think it's good to let the little lost boy talk at times. I need to give him the time to let loose about things that have bothered him over the years, but I can not and will not let him take over.

What are my next steps? I am not sure, but as the great Jocko Willink said I have to start walking. There is no point standing around complaining about my predicament. There is no point worring about being lost in the trees with no idea which is the right way home. I need to pick a direction and move. If I move I might find a path. That path might lead to a stream, the stream might lead to a river and the river should lead to an ocean, all of which can take you anywhere in the world. I just need to start walking.