To live the lie,

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain. ~Frank Herbert

For all the brave faces and bravado, the bluff and brashness, it simply has become impossible to ignore. I am a liar, my whole life has been a perpetual lie and the reason is that of this crippling fear. Work and relationships, in particular, have intensified this fear and these aspects of my life have suffered accordingly. Usually I am left to gather up the meager remains of my sorry existence, accept the responsibility for my situation and try to move forward whilst all the time falling further, sliding deeper into the abyss, by justifying the doubts and fears and letting them punish me for trying.

I just keep running in place on the treadmill, because I am accustomed to the isolation, the one person that gets me, the victim and instigator of the sorry crime that is the story of my life. Caught in the constant recurring loop of crawling slowly forward, sliding further back, you become accustomed, after all it is your reality, the hope and strive to be better and be..something, the fear of scrutiny and failure should you achieve it. Growing accustomed is acceptance, surrender and total failure, the lack of belief in yourself and the belief, however wrongly that it is also the view of others.

Only one thing recently has given me reason to change, the stimuli, the chance, the dream to step out from the ruts and footprints of my circle of surrender. A guiding light, a beacon, the solid rock that I can cling to, a person that although, insecure, afraid and broken as well, SHE has the power, the beauty and the ability to anchor me, to accept me and rescue me. I know she is far from perfect, but she is perfect for me. Perhaps it’s I recognise scars and wounds she carries that match my own, perhaps it is the resilience she isn’t aware of, the strength she possesses but ignores or the inner beauty to still trust in love although she has no reason to.

I am absolutely in awe of her, and completely in love with her, she thinks it unhealthy, she thinks its a symptom of both our own particular neuroses, because of her past, she can’t trust me and because of myself, I give her reason. She has seen the best and worst of me, and I of her and I know at my best I am more than adequate of being the man she needs, even at her worst, she is better than anything I have experienced, but this isn’t about her.

This is about me, the scared, apologetic liar. This is my mission to evolve, to cure and to heal. To show that I can actually be the honest, reliable and loving man she knows. To exorcise the Jekyll and Hyde existence of reach and recoil, to earn her trust. To be her rock and give her the much needed stability she requires, because in finding me, I give her the opportunity to be the woman she has not allowed herself to be for too damned long.

If you are reading this, if you see anything in it of yourself, if you recognise yourself in the words and sentiments I have offered, this is my quest, my mission and I accept it, to investigate, instigate and grow. To become complete, by integrating the two separate entities and merge them into one. To realise that those fears are going to be there but in challenging them I find the tools to defeat them. That in refusing to surrender to my fear of failure, I indeed have a chance to succeed and even if I don’t, in trying I grow, evolve and learn. I hope I can inspire, educate or help you, offer insights to other ways to exist, to inspire change and grow.

Life is not a fairy tale, there is no guaranteed happy ending, there is absolutely no guarantee I win the princess and live happily ever after, but in growing and learning and accepting change, I realise that like Don Quixote, I have chosen this quest far too late and the demons and dragons I slay are entirely my own. Wishes and hope won’t fill my bank balance and words wont change her heart, the proof of the pudding after all is in the taste, and I have so much work to do before I can even buy the ingredients.

The Fool