i’ve been gorging on books lately. this is only because i’ve felt deprived in the last six or so months. plus, reading helps mitigate those feelings of “missing out.”

my latest page turner is about mountain climbing. in particular, it’s about the people who embark on these fantastic, life-altering (e.g. death) adventures. i’m fascinated. i suppose it is a sport of some sort, but the meaning i place on sport doesn’t seem to fit this activity of climbing over 20,000 feet of vertical ground. i don’t understand it, maybe that’s why i continue reading trying to figure out what possesses these men and women to challenge reasoning and put their lives in the hands of a mountain.

i finished a book about a woman who lost part of her jaw when she was very young because of cancer. her story told about the evolution of her relationships with herself (her face), with the world, and with the definitions of love, beauty and ugliness. all these relationships discovered and developed in a broken shell. she stated that cancer was not the great hardship of her life but it was looking different from everyone else.

i’m always drawn to books that speak about the hardships of life. how the hardships changed and molded the person. this particular book was intriguing because i felt that i could relate to her story in some ways, and i wondered how she felt as she lived her life with the constant reminder that she was ugly. obviously, what made me different from others was not as severe; but it is the feeling “different”, particularly when it comes to the face, that seems to draw the same traumatic conclusions.

even to this day i cannot bring myself to say it. i despise the word. as much as it seems hidden from my current life, it is still very much a part of my makeup. i couldn’t talk about it without losing my composure. i still can’t. i felt like such the victim. why did this have to happen to me? why me? i felt like this for over 10 years. each year that passed was another year i chronicled as life with this disease. i remember never wanting to leave my home. how terribly alone i felt especially during the days when the sun was out and i knew everyone was enjoying life. was this where the feeling of “missing out” originated? and, there were the constant disappointments…i tried every solution that touted the remedy to my problem only to find out that the end of one rigorous regimen was the beginning of another.

back to the book. the afterword mentioned how the author was cited as not particularly interested in “battle stories.” i felt rather disappointed in reading that. the moments that helped me along the way were the rare occasions when i found a listener who i could talk freely to about my problem. i was not alone and someone else felt the same “paranoia.” during those very, very few moments I did not feel so different.

i need to jot down some recent observations, particularly in my current work situation.

i generally bounce from project to project. many times i don’t have the particular expertise called for in the work, but that doesn’t seem to matter very much. so, i think about my reaction to being thrust into something new with barely any guidance from my “supervisor” (i truly use this term loosely) and having no real working knowledge of my own. not so long ago such situations would scare the bejesus out of me. now, these situations don’t nearly elicit the same internal intensity that has been a struggle to control and tame.

i questioned my ability to accomplish the work, and with it, came the battle to stifle the overwhelming feelings of dread and worry that i would be “found out.” “found out” in the sense that they would finally know that i didn’t know everything; their perceptions of my abilities were way off and exaggerated. this was my big, bad secret, and i felt like such a fraud. i wasn’t worthy of holding my position or even my job. pretty harsh.

these fears don’t haunt me anymore (or, at least, not so much. i wouldn’t be myself without my safety worries).

what helps? it’s the realization that no one knows everything, even the so-called project managers on the job. you think, if they really don’t know what’s going on and they’re perfectly fine with managing the job, your secret isn’t so bad. my point is: it’s not the end of the world if you find yourself in a new situation with absolutely no knowledge or experience. chances are the next guy (above you) is in the same boat who knows even less. but, the really important part is that you can’t let it stop you. an honest approach in what you know and don’t know is key -- put trust in the things that you don’t know and even more trust in the things that you do. many times the people who need your help are looking for someone with common sense, a good attitude and dedication to the task. these qualities go a long way and can overcome any inexperience. in fact, in a couple of very short weeks, you’d be surprised how much you do know.

i go through periods where i can’t write and/or i don’t want to write. i try to examine the times that i feel this way – what is going on? how am i feeling? ultimately, what is causing me to be silent. i’ve noticed when i feel less depressed, or as a friend puts it: partly cloudy, i find that i don’t mull over the tribulations of life. i just live it rather than journalize the stagnated feelings associated with depression. and, then there are the times i just don’t feel like sharing, not even on my blackboard. my thoughts turn and turn in my head without any release. i can’t bring myself to type out the words to ease the mental discomforts.

although i have much to say, the words escape me. as if they know my fears and do not want to help.

i picked up a book that i’ve put down for some time now. i didn’t know where i left off. with only the bookmark’s lead, i started on a paragraph that was unfamiliar to my memory but felt it was the best place to start. this is what i read:

man’s life, as required by his nature, is not the life of a mindless brute, of a looting thug or a mooching mystic, but the life of a thinking being – not life by means of force or fraud, but life by means of achievement – not survival at any price, since there’s only one price that pays for man’s survival: reason.

man’s life is the standard of morality, but your own life is its purpose. if existence on earth is your goal, you must choose actions and values by the standard of that which is proper to man – for the purpose of preserving, fulfilling and enjoying the irreplaceable value which is your life.

and something else that moved me (from another book):

her own eyes were filling with water, tears that would never fall but hovered there, only inches from my own.

suddenly my perception of the world shifted. i wasn’t the only person in the world who suffered….my sense of space and self lengthened and transformed, extended itself out the door and down the corridor, while at the same time staying present with me, with my mother, who, to my profound discovery, was suffering not just because of, but also for, me.