What do you want from me? To see me on my knees, defeated, surrendered all my muscles in pain. Do you want my head to be overloaded by thousands of choices, problems and distractions? Like a little monkey playing with the dishes ever faster, until the sound breaks your ability to think straight and you just want to tape your ears and go.
Do you want me to become something else? Maybe that something you see me being: a productive machine. If I get unwell, I go to the doctor, the doctor fixes me, then I come back, again ready to be manipulated and abused.
You said I need to believe you.
I need to follow the circumstances, to consider the priorities, and solving one problem after another I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.
You don’t want to see any single thing that makes me human. When I don’t feel well I have my break to get more energy, but for how long? Will it be enough for the time I need to produce and make you rich?
When I cry out for stress the psychologist of the helpline can help me, or maybe bothering some friends or family members with my blues will do.
For how long? Months? Years? A lifetime?
I know, you will give me a retirement party and everyone will congratulate with me for my excellent job, will smile in front of me, giving me the same polite clap you do in front of a monkey playing with the dishes.
Who do you exactly think I am?
You are the first one who knows this circus of efficient multitasking system of priorities is just an alternative, polite way to say “crap”. So do you really expect I can instead believe it is true?
Yes, I need to believe. I need to say to myself the coming day will be fine. I need to be smiling, and positive, otherwise it is a bad impression, an annoying inconvenient: I am an annoying inconvenient.
I must prostitute myself for your convenience, smiling when I don’t feel like it and pretending everything is fine when it’s clearly falling into pieces.
Cool, this is a requirement they don’t mention in the job description.
Two things save me though: I am aware to be in the flow and I know my priorities. I have my life to protect, many good things that can wait for me around the corner.
I am not going to deny any single feeling, even in the moments I would like to run away miles; I am going to welcome them instead, to get to know them and listen what they really mean in their cryptic language.
Finally, I will be able to reverse that knife; it will become my weapon until nothing else will be able to hurt me at all.
This is what I do: I get to know the enemy and I steal his blades. Therefore, that negative moment will not become my mantra, my destiny. I am still the one who writes my destiny.
Sending you love.