When Doubt Came To Visit

Doubt made an unscheduled visit last week.

He/she/it didn’t knock or ask for permission to stop by they just barged in.

I had thought I had locked the doors, barred the windows and engaged the sort of security system that couldn’t be overcome as easily as this one was, but I was wrong.

Maybe they snuck by while my focus was elsewhere or maybe they used one of my favorite tricks and hid in plain sight.

I probably shouldn’t complain about that because I have done it many times.

Hell I have stood across a room from people who said they would always know if I was around and they were clueless so maybe I ought to give myself a break.

Truth is I feel like I have been juggling, knives, chainsaws and dynamite while trying to avoid the bowling balls that keep being launched at my feet.

It would make sense not to expect to be able to see all that is around or coming at me, especially when I jumped off of the cliff not knowing if the flight suit works or not.


Hiding In Plain Sight

Someone once asked me why I would be interested in spending time with people who couldn’t see me.

I told them I thought there was a difference between willful blindness and couldn’t.

The question wasn’t whether they could or could not, but why they chose not to.

What was more important to me was identifying what and who I was willfully blind to or about.

When they asked me why I said I could blast All By Myself on the radio and wonder how long it would take  for people to ask if I needed help.

Or alternatively I could just keep working on whatever it was I had to work on and not worry about them.

“That is dumb. Why don’t you just ask for help?”

I like John Lennon’s response but I don’t completely agree with it.


Sure, some people should notice you are drowning and lend a hand.

The important people, those who really know you and say you’re important to them ought to be there to lend a hand.

But sometimes they are caught up in their own lives and they can’t see you floundering so if you don’t ask for help you don’t know if they are blind or willfully blind to your struggle.

Why Did Doubt Come To Visit?

Some people think a little bit and some think a lot.

I got a good laugh a while back because someone told me they were certain I am one of those people who just forgets and moves on.

It is partially true, I am really good at doing it with some things but not with all.

There are moments where something clicked inside my head and I knew right then it wasn’t going to be something I would just forget.

If you believe Stephen King this is a useful tool.

“A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.”

The things I really remember aren’t usually fragments, they are vivid moments in 3-d and Technicolor.

Tell me we are inextricably linked and I’ll remember it.

Ask me to forget certain moments where I failed to get something done the way I thought it should be and yeah, I’ll probably remember it.

The latter is probably what enabled doubt to sneak past the guards.

Somewhere in the midst of juggling those chainsaws and dodging bowling balls I felt myself slip and wondered if I was going to fall down.

Never worried or wondered if I would get back up because I always do because I don’t know how else to be.

But some bruises last longer now than they once did so in some ways I more cautious and aware.

One of the funnier things to me about changes that come with age is that even though I am acutely aware of how fast time moves I am far more patient about some things.

Some stuff cannot be rushed and you have to just do your time.

That little slip triggered a memory and that is why doubt came to visit.

I suppose if I can’t lock doubt out I’ll have to open my arms and hug it close.

Not my favorite guest but when provide fodder for writing I suppose you offer some value.


(Visited 22 times, 1 visits today)


Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please enter an e-mail address

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

You may also like