Skip to main content

EXISTENTIAL FEAR

Everyone is afraid of something. What is it that you are afraid of? Not spiders, or heights or water. I don’t mean things like that [although I do fear heights and water]. Think more deeply. What is it that truly and fundamentally terrifies you?

For me, I fear being a coward.

To be faced with a challenge in life and not measure up, that’s what terrifies me.

I fear that I might fail to protect my wife, though even at my age and state of decrepitness, my thirty-eight years of martial arts training might stand me in good stead, for a short time, at least. I figure about ninety seconds.

But my cowardice could manifest as me being immobilized by self-pity over some crisis or other when I should wish to remain strong for my family, a rock of strength for them.

Simple, daily life can be more arduous than we care to credit. The mundane can drive a man around the bend or even to his end. A man must deal with the frustration of earning a living, not getting that promotion, not making enough money, always kowtowing to the company for fear of losing that income and the illusion of security that comes with it.

The continual grind, the Sisyphus-like existence forced upon us, most of us anyway, is exhausting! It certainly requires a form of courage to face that soul-sucking, life-numbing task of going to work everyday to a job that is nothing more than a paycheque, a means to an end.

At my age, it is this drone existence that I fear may well wear me down to the point where I wish to throw in the towel. No, not to die, nothing that dramatic! I mean simply to give up my responsibilities to my family, to quit my job.


I say “man,” not to diminish the female or to lend some greater importance to the male role in our society but rather as a male, it is the perspective from which I view things in the world, it is the social construct that was instilled in me growing up and as such nothing is unmanlier than being a coward.

And as a man, I shouldn’t wish to be thought of as being unintelligent, lacking in compassion for others, brutish, or violent. That is to me a type of cowardice; a failure in one’s character to act in a compassionate and reasoned manner for fear it does not convey strength.

Nor would I wish, as a man, from a man’s perspective, to be thought of as indecisive, incompetent, or incapable of reaching for what it is I desire. That is to me another form of cowardice, the fear to live one’s life as one’s own.

Ego drives us all. From a male perspective, much of what we do as males seems to be ego driven. I would not wish to be egotistical for ego run rampant can cause bad decisions. But nor would I want to be ignored, psychologically invisible, or have decisions made for me by my wife; for I do have an ego and my ego is that delicate.

I am married to a strong and intelligent woman. I would have it no other way. And ego drives her equally as it does me. I claim responsibility for my own decisions and I know my wife does the same. I would not presume to make a decision for her. She is responsible for her destiny as I am to mine.

As far as the issue of cowardice is concerned, failing to meet life’s challenges with aplomb and competence or worse, shirking one’s responsibilities altogether, is what I fear most.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

21st CENTURY QUIXOTIC MAN

Maybe I'm old, but I find it increasingly more difficult to gather legitimate informative news articles. Sources are questionable, I fact check, but then the integrity of the fact checkers is called into question. I have a job, a family, and other interests. I am busy trying to live my life. When I'm on the net, especially Facebook, it is in between tasks and I'm on the move. I am not writing a doctoral dissertation, merely commenting on something that catches my eye. Yes, I get caught up in defending my opinion. And it is hard to admit that it is only opinion; I have no access to state information, I have no poli-sci degree, I'm just commenting about what I read. If I had expertise or knowledge no one else had I would get myself into a position where I could employ my specific set of skills and knowledge to effect change. I wouldn't spend hours on Facebook telling everyone they were being duped. I'm just a blue collar worker close to retirement, tir...

My Mother

My mother has died. That somber fact has me processing thoughts of guilt, love, and my own mortality. I am officially an orphan. My mother was one of the “Railway Children,” those Liverpool kids sent to the countryside to escape the bombing during World War II. She and her sister were sent to Wales and were bounced from household to household, relative to relative, and finally to an orphanage. Dad moved to Canada in 1960 to forge a better a life for us. Before my mum took my sister and I to join him, the family held an “American wake,” a mournful goodbye, as if a loved one had died. Mum left everything and everybody she ever knew to join her husband in the new world. My mother and father worked hard to give us a good life. There were tough times, money was scarce, and there was tension between my parents. Hell, let me be honest, my father hit my mother, I saw it. My mum was sixty when she left my dad. She just walked out with the clothes on her back. That was my mum. Tough. W...

On Being Heard

Is it me or does anyone else think they are not being heard? Doesn't it seem that these days folks don't  listen to what you are saying and instead they prepare a response even while you are still speaking?  I don't know about you but I find this frustrating. This behaviour is sometimes accompanied by the person you are talking with editorializing every few sentences you make which causes you to lose your train of thought. And of course, with the ubiquitous mobile phone, it is hard to tell if the person you are talking with is even listening, they are too busy checking something on FaceBook. But that is not so much an issue of a difference in linguistic styles as it is more about plain bad manners. My linguistic style can be passionate and animated especially if I am talking about something important to me. I don't know if it's my age or if I am not as mentally strong as I should be, but constant editorializing greatly distracts me. I also think that when I am i...