everything is disappointing...
Recently, I’ve had the desire to crawl out of my skin, and let my muscle and bones roam the street. Guilt, shame, embarrassment, and disappointment circle the inner workings of my psyche.
I learned at an early age to not get my hopes up—even before I did not get a Wii for Christmas. As a kid, I cried when I was disappointed. Tears of frustration, mixed with regret. Asking questions along the lines of why did I even get my hopes up? I’d call myself stupid, for ever thinking I was deserving of something I was promised. Maybe it was on the steps, waiting for my Dad to appear and whisk me away from my dying mother. Maybe it was losing every writing contest in Elementary school. Maybe it was the wrestle with mortality, and losing. A coping mechanism used to defend myself from disappointing adults in my life which has in turn become a crutch preventing me from living my life.
The Therapist, and I sat on Zoom, staring at each other, as I came down from practicing Exposure Response Prevention. As I rode the wave of anxiety, I mentioned being back on Hinge, the infamous dating application that brought me to question my self-concept. I then told him I wasn’t getting my hopes up. Expecting a laugh, he sat there, pensive and he asked, “Why not?” And what flew out of my mouth happens to be the thesis of this essay, “I don’t want to be disappointed.” The deadpan nature in which I said this solidified it’s truth within the Sean-canon. I felt see through. The vulnerability burned my skin and skeleton away leaving my deepest most inner feeling—fear of disappointment.
I’m locked in a room of my own creation and I’m both miserable, and lacking in experience of life. The Therapist continued pushing me. “What’s a life without disappointment?” Unfortunately, he’s right—I had prevented myself from trying and feeling. Apparently life is about trial and error.
The smile I gave back to him was uncomfortable, and stretched across my face as I dodged the question. He got me good. And I wanted to shoot lasers out my eyes, and through my screen. Peel off my skin and ascend.
How do I begin to live a life of disappointment?
—S