Look Up and to The Right

“It is your birthday. You receive a calfskin wallet.”

I have a fear of judgment. 

I suppose everyone does to some extent. 

Everyone has expectations and I often feel like I have to meet every one of those expectations otherwise I’m not good enough. 

I have a deep fear that I am not a good person. I’d like to think of myself as a kind, patient, understanding person; but that’s not what most of my memories are. I feel like I’ve become a mean, impatient, and caustic person.

Not a good father.

Not a good husband.

Not a good son.

Not a good brother.

Not a good nephew.

Not a good teacher.

Not a good man.

Not a good person. 

What terrifies me the most are all the rules that are left unspoken. The rules that everyone around me just seems to know already. Then I come into the situation, I have no idea what I’m doing, and it feels like everyone is watching me. Waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for me to stumble. 

I hate the rules. 

I feel like I have no say in what those rules are.

I have lived my life by following so many rules, and the irony is that most of them are in my head anyway. Most of these rules are actually ones I just made up and I assume that everyone else follows them, or that some other person came up with them. 

One of the most recent rules I discovered came from Krav Maga.

This is the rule that I must follow: Class starts at 5:30. I am not allowed to arrive more than five minutes early to that class, otherwise I’m taking up undue space. Class ends at 7:00, I need to leave within the next five minutes, otherwise I’m taking up undue space. 

I’m not allowed to mingle, I’m not allowed to make friends, I’m not allowed to ask other people’s names or even what their interests are. I am there for Krav Maga and that is it. 

The rule is around the ideal of punctuality. 

But is this rule life affirming? Is this rule making me happy? Is this rule even rational? 

So many of the rules I make myself follow are incredibly oppressive and then I get angry at the world that I believe told me I have to follow them. When in actuality, it’s my own rule. 

I made up that rule.

And it turns out that I am a dictator to myself. 

I put chains around my body and locked them tight and I lament and wail at my imprisonment. 

But the key is in my hand.