I used to believe that eventually, a day would come, where purpose would be revealed and while I wouldn't be celebrated for my quiet dedication and loyalty, I would be rewarded for it. I believed that there was a purpose to all of the writing over all the years, a purpose to the depths of exploration of film and music, a purpose for the focus and dedication to acquiring audio hardware and software. I believed that upon reaching the end of the path, that it would all fit together, even if it didn't make absolute sense to me. I held a trust beyond my mind that sometimes things have to be done in unorthodox ways, and the more you can tolerate, the more helpful you are being because not everyone is willing to go to such lengths. But it was all a lie, from the beginning. I should have trusted my mind rather than suppressing it over and over for years upon lost years.
I wasn't on missions from God; I was going to random places and doing random things, dictated by something within my own psyche. When I would speak, I wasn't speaking from an unusual perspective - just another idiot running my mouth. When I thought I was achieving by refusing to take credit for the good things I did, I was robbing myself AND MY FAMILY of the benefits of those positive actions. Where I thought I was doing so out of love and generosity, the only measurable thing I achieved was stealing those earned rewards from myself and my family. And I thought GOD was telling me to do it. I thought I was living generously and being helpful. If something good happens for the company and I don't take credit for my part, someone else gets to buy braces for his daughter, or so I saw it. I denied myself time after time until I find myself here. With my little close family with me, but the remainder of the world zipping by us, not noticing that we are not moving, not noticing that we are not zipping around too accomplishing things. I did not stand up for my opinion on so many occasions because even though I thought I understood better, I didn't want to interfere. What I was backing out of i(n order to help) was creating my own life. I believed that money was something that one is better off without. I am horrified with disappointment when I see how wrong that is, and how I took away from my family by not negotiating, by not requesting payment, by not learning the craft of business. I wanted to believe what I was told to believe. I was going to be the one who, quietly, would show anyone who would listen that being a good person without being mixed up in greed, a giving person who TRULY has the heart to help others was possible and that by doing that, by being that, I would help people so much and even have a chance at helping humanity itself by not only doing a small positive thing, but showing people they, too, could be positive, and start a domino affect, and at the start of that would be - not me. Nobody. I would take no credit because I was not doing it for myself. I was doing it for other people. In fact I understood I was doing it at my own cost in some ways to some unknown degree. I did not realize it would be everything, down to selling my simple cared-for possessions in an effort to pay to keep a place to live and electricity. I don't even own my car.
I was going to do difficult things and I was going to write about them and that was supposed to have some value: value equal to what normal people can put into a house, cars, riding lessons, voice lessons, savings, insurance, taxes, food, clothing, a future that my children can look forward to once they get a bit older and look ahead to college or other opportunities I refuse to rob from them. I believed - and even understood the apparent naiivety in doing so, though I knew better - that all of these things would just fall into place for me. But they haven't. I never was given silent favor assigned by the powers that be in our mutual understanding. I eat because of the generous gifts of welfare and food stamps from the Great State of Ohio. I have a house and a car to use because of family financial generosities. My house is a mess, but why bother cleaning it up? I can't teach my kids the value of keeping things tidy, I can't achieve that so much myself, and I certainly can't pay anyone to help. Morale is so low, it's hard to put any effort into something other than feeding the kids or helping with homework and providing tech support.
I'd kill myself again, but that wouldn't do anything to help anyone but me, and I have a problem with that. The only other thing I can do with all of this is share it here. I'm terrified of rejection, so this puts me far outside my comfort zone, but if I end up (somehow) gaining anything at all, even indirectly, as a result of this writing, it is worth the fear and the pain of hanging my insides out to be examined by the cruel world.. I don't know what the next step is. I don't know where to go from here.