My first real hobby was gaming.
Not games in any organized sense of the word; not roleplaying games and not even video games.
I collected junk, things that other people deemed useless. Bits of machinery, discarded packaging and smatters of my own toys and trinkets. With nothing more then my imagination I created and destroyed worlds, empires and entire races even. Over time I devloped a rudimentary roleplaying system, long before I ever picked up dice for Dungeons and Dragons.
As I got older my systems became more and more sophisticated, I would roleplay with my friends are recess and share my worlds with them. It was in those years; those humble beginnings that I found both my confidence and skill as a storyteller. I learned how effective patiomine was; and how to use hooks to draw people into a story. I reached a point around 6th grade where I could not improve upon my skills any longer. I didn't have room to grow, I didn't have teachers who understood well enough to instruct me. So I took my focus from a storyteller and shifted to studying the mind.
Psychology was for me... a hallway that lead to infinite possibilities. It was like opening pandora's box and realizing it's too late to cram the lid back on. I followed my curiosity into the darkest reaches of the human psyche, into the unrelenting light of the human soul and farther then the child who built worlds could've ever dreamed.
My gift all along was in people. It was in understanding them, giving them sympathy and knowing when to be tough. I took a very roundabount way to discover my gift. Going from a shy nerd to a charismatic man... I took great pains to cultivate that skill and hone it into a fine point.
In the wake of my illness and the unfortunate events following it I locked myself into isolation. turned my back on humanity and my gift. And we all know if you don't use it you lose it.
This week was the first time in years that I have seriously considered walking away from my life. Taking a few key possessions and beating a path out of town. It isn't that I hate the people that are in my life, or that I hate where I live or the things that surround me. It's that for the first time in as back as I can remember I have no idea what to do. My health is poor at best, I have incurred medical debts, I have no way to afford school because the work that I am good at literally makes me sick.
I'm hopelessly stuck right now.
I can't help but think if I leave, go as far away as I can that I can outrun my problems. It has to be a special brand of desperation that I have never felt before. I know intellectually that a reckless exodus to another state would be a deathwish. Without friends and family support I would do far far worse then I am now.
If I could magically cure myself I would have no problem paying off my debts and going back to school.
Years ago, that may even have been possible. I was a different stronger person. I remember once that I sprained my ankle and then proceeded to walk to work in the snow. Work an 8 hour shift and walk 2 miles back home. All before seeing the doctor. I ignored the biting cold and I poured my life into everything that I did... and somehow it didn't matter when I was sick or down because I knew that I was strong and had confidence in myself... and my abilities.
It seems like my default now is weak, sick. Anemic. I loathe it, perhaps thats what I want to escape.
But I need something to change this; either from within myself or a deus ex machina that shifts the entire balance my life is built on. I look at my abilities and think "how amazing if I could utilize them properly". They are uncut diamonds, imperfect but with the amazing unseen potential. How do I do it? How do I use my talents with people if I cannot be in bright light or near loud noises?
If you think of a job that requires people skills and takes place in a quiet dark enviroment please let me know. And if it's a bookstore don't bother I've already checked two dozen of them.
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1 comment:
dawn. i want you to be okay.
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