Father's Day, Indecision, And The Curse Of Hope

I wanted to write some stuff on Father's Day, but life intervened. I know it's a few days later, but it's not too late to say that I hate Father's Day.

I've never gotten along with my dad, but the last few years have been worse than usual, and I've had enough of him. People asked me what I planned to do for him on the big day, and most were surprised and dismayed when I replied, "nothing". I have better things to do with my time than interact with my dad, so I didn't even call him. That's not what makes me depressed. What saddens me is the people I know who get along with their fathers. I get jealous and depressed when friends talk about spending time with their dads. I wonder what it's like to have a dad who isn't selfish, verbally abusive and actually wants to be around his offspring.

I also feel uncomfortable on Father's Day, getting a gift and a card from my daughter. She made a really nice card this year, made out to "the world's greatest dad". I am not comfortable with that description. I know, I know, I'm the best in her eyes, but I cannot help but feel that I am unworthy of such praise. She's a smart girl, and one of these days, she's going to figure out that I am not really the greatest. It saddens me. I do the best I can, but I worry, constantly, that it's not good enough.

My indecision depresses me, too. When faced with a choice or an opportunity, I rarely make up my mind until I am forced to. I have an opportunity to purchase one of three different crappy used cars, and I've spent weeks humming and hawing and consulting friends, and I still cannot make up my mind. It's fear, of course. I'm always afraid that whatever decision I make will be the wrong one. That applies to every decision I make, whether it be about jobs, relationships, or even something simple like shopping for clothes (which I hate). In this case, I do have a good reason to be hesitant - the last three choices I made concerning cars were all bad ones. One car was a money pit, and the other two had their engines blow up. So I worry that whatever car I end up buying will explode, spewing fluids all over the road. But my inability to decide depresses me.

I wish I could be more cynical. I wish that I were truly without hope, that I could simply accept that nothing I do will turn out right. But faced with unexpected opportunities, I find myself full of hope that maybe this time, things will turn out right. Sometimes they do, but usually, they don't, and I end up hating myself for getting my hopes up again, only to see them dashed. Sometimes, I think hope is a curse.

Of course, I have been truly hopeless before, and it led to crushing despair and thoughts of suicide. I don't want to go down that road again, so it's possible hope is not a bad thing. I struggle to do the Zen thing and accept things as they are, but it's hard, struggling against my dark, dark heart. It's hard.

Idiocy

Sunday I took my daughter down to Spencer Smith Park in Burlington. It's a nice park by the lake. It should be nice, after all the money Burlington spent on it. We were down at the tiny beach area, and Hannah was running back and forth, laughing and dodging the incoming waves. It was a beautiful moment.

Not far away, two women were on the beach while their toddler played at the edge of the water. The girl looked about 18 months old, maybe 2 years. She wandered over to a point where she was closer to me than to the two women (I assumed one of them was her mother). I was mostly watching my daughter, but this small girl was in my peripheral vision most of the time.

The girl tripped and fell into the water face first. The waves were not big, but they were big enough that she couldn't stand back up. She was only face-down in the water and struggling for a few moments before her mother ran over and fished her out. The little girl was fine. She coughed a bit, but hadn't seemed to inhale any water. She was a little scared, but minutes later, she was playing and laughing again. It was a scary moment, but it ended well.

Why am I telling you this? Because I saw it all happen, and STOOD THERE LIKE AN IDIOT! I could have jumped in and picked the girl up myself - I was no more than six feet from her, and closer than her mother was. Instead, like a fucking stunned monkey, I just stood there and watched. I DON'T KNOW WHY! One would think I would have acted when someone's kid fell in the fucking lake, but no. I just stood there, and I assume I had a dopey, semi-retarded look on my face.

What's the point of this humiliating story? I hate myself, that's the point. I had a chance to jump in and help someone, and instead, I just stood there. Since then, all I can think about is what happened, and how, if the two women hadn't been paying attention, something horrible might have happened right in front of me.

This is apparently what I do. Opportunities come by, and I just stand there while someone else acts. Opportunities to meet women, to get a different job, to get a car, to do things, come along, and I just let them pass by, and spend days or weeks regretting my inaction. Life passes me by while I just STAND AROUND AND WATCH IT FUCKING HAPPEN! God forbid I should ever come across someone seriously injured or trapped in a burning car! I'll probably stare at them stupidly while they bleed or burn to death!

Life is full of opportunities, and I sit in a dark room with the curtains drawn, staring into the abyss that is my blackened soul. Hell is a life not lived.