Days pass, emotions pass, struggles pass: everything eventually passes. A bit harsh, but true. And I am here in the midst of this passing, a little worried about passing itself, a little worried about time. I introspect, I look inside, I seek for an answer even though I know perfectly that there is no none. Everything eventually passes, echoes in my mind. So why bothering with anything? Why worrying? Why making effort? Why feeling challenges to do X or Y? Why wanting to start a company? Why wanting to write a book? Why wanting to develop great software? Why wanting? Why bothering?
But even the lack of wanting passes, even asking oneself why bothering passes. The grunt, it passes. Yeah, it passes. And with time I find myself wanting again, bothering again, seeking for an answer that I know will not come. Hoping for a resolution that I know was never planned.
Really is that it? A perpetual circle of seeking and giving up? Is that it? Is this my Sisyphus-like existence with not much more to it? Is that it? Some philosophising here and there to brush aways the struggles? It passes, the struggle, it passes the philosophising.
I try to write as fast as I can to bypass the censoring filter of my mind, but I cannot bypass my feelings, they are the at the bottom of my being shouting at me. They are there and they are asking me to express them. It passes, the struggle. They passes, the feelings, but they still want to be heard, they still want to be shouted, so here I am asking what seems to be a simple question but, if you stare at it long it, it actually reveals itself to be a window into the abyss of another words: how am I?
How am I, you ask? I am rushed, by my own being. I am rushed because I see people showcasing their triumphs, celebrating their achievements and the culminations that they set forth. But what’s behind those posts, what’s behind those pictures? How do I feel when I see someone celebrating and achieving? How do I really feel? I feel, mmh, excluded. I feel their celebration wants to say something like: “hey, look at me, yes at me, at me here, I have done something great, I have done something noteworthy, give me your attention, give me your respect, give me your awe”. I feel this so strongly when I look at LinkedIn. I know that other people may not have this intention at all. Most of the time people post things for very particular and practical reasons, they want someone to know that they have done X or they want to get feedback from their customers or they want to keep trying things and sticking their neck out in search for meaningful connections, sales and follow ups.
But still, I see all these people posting and I think it reveals something about me. It reveals an itch that have. My itch has nothing to do with them or with their post, but seeing them triggers something, it awakens a feeling, it awakens something that wants to be shouted. What is that, you ask? That is the flimsy little trust I have in myself. The voice the shouts is the voices that says: “I want to trust you more! I want to trust the world more! Give me that trust. Give me that momentum. Give me that confidence”. In the posts and the picture of others I see that trust, I see that confidence, and I crave it. Even if I know it may not be there, even if I know that i may be pretended, I crave it. I want it. Give me that trust. Give me that confidence.
So why don’t I have the trust? Why don’t I have the confidence? Well, one reason why I think it may be the case is because earning my trust it not at all easy. At the bottom of my being there are many parts and emotions and some of them are quite difficult to deal with. There is one part that grow up rather spoiled, in a word that was booming, in a family that was booming, with a booming bank account so that this part believes it is a prince. It wants great things. It wants impactful projects. I want flashy. I wants it all. It thinks of itself as the hero and is only waiting for its epic moment. You can see, probably better than me, how hard it can be to earn the trust of such a part. How can I demonstrably show this part that I am capable of meetings its desires when its desires are so grandiose and feeling. Also, paradoxically, this creates a trust-diminishing vicious circle because my executive function, the part in change of addressing these needs and satisfying them, doesn’t trust the needs of this prince-like part in the first place. It knows they are demanding and it has a hard time trusting that they are genuinely achievable requests.
I don’t want to rush into actions and solutions, but maybe I could. I could tell this part that it is okay for it to be a prince but that there are substantial limits to what we can achieve and that we would all feel better if we collaborated and found a way to trust each other, no matter the differences and the difficulties between one another. I could tell this part that it is totally okay of him to be wanting things and imagining the impossible, but it may be more empowering for everyone here if he celebrated and cheered up achieving the impossible in our little garden, in our day to day. He can be a prince of my desk. He can be a prince of my house. A prince of a great piece of code. A prince of a great post. A prince that owns the little actions. A price that has interiorised that big is the brother of chance, and small is the necessary step. A price that cherishes that small necessary step and leaves big to the chance, to the Chaos. That’s the prince we want to reign in this house. A prince that trusts, support and cherish its courts because it has kept delivering despite of its limits.