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500 Horse Power...

I was born with this.  Like everyone else (or most everyone else) is born with 200 horsepower.  But me, I have these extra 300 fucking horses that I barely know what to do with.  They cause me so much angst and heartbreak and cost but there is nothing I can do about it.  My life is just drawn by all this fucking horse power and the fact that I want to slow down and walk or sleep or what the fuck ever, is just not possible with all this extra horse power I have all the time.


All this extra I was born with or created to cope with life, I am never really sure which it is...causes me to be so hard charging in everything I do:  working, friendshiping, parenting, loving, exercising, eating.  I just seem to do everything at a pace and rate that exceeds normal human limitations.  I push, and drive and push and drive some more.  Resting is something designed for other people without this extra 300 horse power.


I know I am not the only one.  I know there are others who have this hard charging, amped up power.  I see you fuckers, and I can relate.  Often times though, we can’t hang out because you are equally busy running yourself, your kids and your life ragged.


Most of the time I like all this extra horse power I have.  I love horses and so having so many is a usually a good thing.  But more and more as I age, I am less and less excited that every day when I wake up, I am literally dragged along on my day, frequently feeling the need to stop and rest and not being able to because there is this internal motor that spurs me on and forward.


It has been my life’s work to find a way to live with all this extra drive and push and force and metal.  So far, so good I guess because I have accomplished a great number of things...and I am still here to write about it.


While I find very little to love about getting older, I do see that my fucking horses are aging too.  They are not all young stallion maverick mustangs anymore.  They too have aged and are slowing down...not quite quickly enough for my liking all the time, but they are, in fact, losing power.  I mean there are still 500 of them, but they do not run at full clip anymore...which is fucking vital because if they did, surely they would run me down and over.


Things are hard in life right now.  Another love affair exploding rather spectacularly all over the fucking place.  I mean, I saw it coming.  I saw the possibility of the shitshow.  I usually do.  And yet, I still jump in the ring anyway.  I both love and hate this about myself.  The fact that I can see all the very good reasons to not get involved or re-involved but there is this crazy, desperate hope that perhaps, just maybe, this time it will be different.  And it never fucking is...but fuck if I don’t keep that particular flame alive.


This ability to see the good in others, to believe and give chances when most others wouldn’t is one of my greatest assets, and one of my largest liabilities.  The fact I still have a relationship with my son bears testament to my sticktoitiveness.  I didn’t give up.  Well, that is wrong, I gave up a lot but my ability to stay given up faltered.  And today we have a pretty decent and evolving relationship.  And that is in no small way due to this great hope within me that seems to grow back while I sleep when all others have left the building long ago and perhaps rightly decided for themselves that that particular person, cause or endeavor is just not worth the mental and emotional effort required anymore.


But not me.  I am the giver of second chances, and thirds and millionth.  It is just how I am.  I vacillate between the large extremes of stark reality based observation and thinking and completely delusional hope for a different outcome.  All the time, with everyone.  


I guess what I am learning better, not perfectly, but better...is that while I perhaps may not be able to change this about myself, I am able to perhaps develop an increased understanding of what is driving and fueling this need and attendant ability to work so hard to create so much hope for causes that are really long lost.


And to some degree I blame the horses.  They are ever evolving creatures that are hard driving and somewhat relentless.  And in turn, so am I. I didn’t install this extra horse power in myself or life.  So I am not really sure I have the ability to rid myself of it.  I can only continue to be willing to learn to curb it, reign it in and sometimes just let it unfurl, unbridled and in a fully open dead run.  Sometimes, even though it seems that it is going to be my undoing and end.


One of the hardest things I have ever attempted to mediate was myself and all this horse power bestowed upon me.  It has been a lot of fucking work, with marginal success.  Acceptance does help but it doesn’t really provide the relief I need on days like today where my life requires me to harness up this bitch and ride like a motherfucker.  Me, I am not really up for that today.  I would like to completely opt out of all of life’s activities for today, go back to sleep, wake and sit in bed all day and feel sorry for myself, while binge watching Netflix and eating ice cream.  But that is not something one can do with 50 horses writhing beneath your skin...propelling you up and forward and onward...fonward really (fucking onward, for those of you who don't know).


So I lash myself to them for this new day dawning and submit to their power and wisdom.  I mean what choice do I really have?  Have you ever attempted to sit idle on a horse that is freaking the fuck out or ready to fucking GO?  Impossible. 


And so for today, I will be grateful for all the power that propels me forward and onward.  I will rise and move through the day with harnessed beasts and call it good.  I mean what else can one really do when one is not completely in charge of any of this?  I am just here, doing the deal, attempting to curb my own enthusiasm for life and love and living, while being driven, quite literally by the power of 500 hard driving horses that no one can see or feel but me.


Again.


Still.




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