Breaking Point

Overextension is only felt when the staff of patience and tolerance is nearing a point of breakage.

By the time you realize it, the stick is already broken, and can no longer uphold the burden. Now, there is no such method or form of magic that can restore it to its days of glory and strength. Mending it back to its once true and seamless form is a fictitious tale, one that we keep telling ourselves; thinking that one day it will either heal or simply help us ignore our shrouded wounds.

We know there are talented humans out there who are just too good at deceiving others. Some truly have this innate talent of effortlessly swindling others, but the practice and thought of deception always start within ourselves, in our own damn noggins.

As humans, we have this bright idea, where we keep telling ourselves that everything is alright, a bunch of "white lies", repeated again and again until the day comes, when we understand everything is not quite alright, and the damage dealt is beyond repair.

To that I say, that sometimes you should just allow it, and say, yes, everything is quite fucked up!

Afterward, it's either "Everything is a mess, but it could be worse. So, let's all be optimistic about this situation" or "Yes, shit has hit the fan, the mess is quite big, there's no denying it, but now, how do we solve it?"

Which seems to be the better approach here?

As life keeps testing me and my patience, the more I understand that the approach should always be the latter. Sometimes you just have to man up and tell yourself that things aren't alright, and now, let's act quickly, and start with amends.

Here I am, after a 7-day grind. With a bloody nose early in the morning, red eyes, big dark bags under the eyes, a sore back, and the absence of sleep. For three days we barely had any proper supply of water to drink, no gas to cook, and barely a proper supply of electricity.

Yet, here we are...

Fortunately, all is well now, and we're still alive, right? "Look at the bright side", as they say...

No, we didn't get lost in a jungle, it was just a streak of bad luck. We had just moved to a new apartment, and it has been quite an unlucky few days for us. Nothing was going as planned or on time. On top of that, having to deal with work, and the multiple mental tasks all at once; was a challenge for sure. Yet, no task was left undone.

Juggling through all these abrupt complications, family responsibilities, and work, I'm just tired at this point, and I barely have much optimism juice left inside of me. Yet, it is still not enough to bleed out all the hope and shake off that can-do attitude, that resides inside of my mind and body. There's still a droplet or two left somewhere in there, the tank isn't completely dry; stubborn and adamant blobs of ambition still remain, which are quite permanently instilled inside of me.

As the quote goes...

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

And, things could always be worse; yet, I believe I have already reached my breaking point. If it does get worse from here and now, then I'll probably end up doing some damage; not to anyone else, but to myself.