Am I a Good Person?
Am I a Good Person?
I try to be. I really do. I really care about who and what I am. I’m constantly comparing myself to people who I admire. Moral people, with beautiful smiling children. I want to be them; or more specifically just ‘him’. I have thoughts that I allow myself to think about that I know are wrong. I feel like I’m betraying my wife because she doesn’t have these thoughts. Occasionally, I act on these thoughts and do something that makes my heart experience physical numbness that borders on pain.
More than anything, I feel so deeply frustrated at my inability to stop myself from doing these things. I’m 45 now... I worry about growing old without having figured this out. I imagine myself at 70, looking back on a wasted life because these feelings often overtake me and leave me without dignity.
Am I a victim? Sometimes it feels like it. I deeply despise my actions, yet I lack the strength to stop myself. Is it possible that my genetic makeup has left me without this ability that those I admire possess? It sounds crazy, but is it possible? I like to think that I can shape who I am or who I can be tomorrow through influencing my mind with good things, wholesome things. Have I really truly given this a fair try? Have I submerged myself in good things? It’s not easy to do, it takes so much consistent discipline.
My powers of determination and willpower crest and fall in my life. Right now, it’s cresting. I’m instinctively driven to devise new resolutions when I find myself in a state of despair. It creates hope and alleviates the suffering. But one can only believe yourself so many times before you cannot help, if you are sincere, to identify the pattern and lose the ability to resolve and recover. Is this the simple plight of men like myself? Should I simply resign to this impossible quest for self dignity. Perhaps it’s not even my choice. Our bodies perform incredible biochemical feats to keep us alive when our life is threatened. Unconscious reactions designed to preserve our life. We cannot tell our bodies to not do it. This is much the same, only it’s observable. Despite becoming painfully transparent, destined to bring me full circle I embark on the impossible journey with optimism. The irony is overwhelming and this realization deathly sobering.