relying on the unreliable

Just for once I wish it was me.

How much more self-defeating can one get?  Wishing to be anyone else except yourself is an invitation for insecurity, for self-doubt, for judgement, for pain, for tears.  Yet undeniably, it resurfaces from time to time.  I think it until I break.  And it is upon breaking that we can learn.  But it seems the choice most often made is not to.

When all goes smoothly, there is nothing to learn.  It is through damage that strength can be found.  At war within, constantly searching out what can't be grasped, trying to find something good that will last.  But happy doesn't last; it's not meant to.  Why seek out the happy when you can have inner joy.  Happiness skims the surface - it is shallow and fleeting and fickle - but joy doesn't have to be taken away.  Haven't we all heard that saying "count it all joy"?  Sounds simple, but the truth of it is hard to grasp.  To count all those emotions, even those that hurt, as joy is counter-intuitive.

We rely so heavily on our emotions - emotions that show themselves over and over again to be unreliable.  Here and gone in an instant - leaving us bereft with lingering doubt, lingering guilt, lingering regret.  Feeling abandoned by something that was never ours to keep.  And the more we fight to get it back, the deeper we seem to sink.

Strength is sought, yet we continue to rely on the unreliable to get us there.  Isn't that the definition of insanity?  I guess it is fitting, as the word itself is thrown around so easily these days.  If a person steps out of the comfort zone, they are called crazy.  But then, we weren't meant to stay sane in the eyes of this world.