It’s been another week. Another week of not being able to do what I set out to do. Another week of falling short of expectations that I set for yourself. Another week that tells me that there are more such weeks to come, and the weeks will clump into months, which will then solidify into years.
Yet, if I were to note the things that I was able to do, the skills that I was able to hone, the art that I was able to craft, the plans that was able to make, I would know that I didn’t do that bad. But I didn’t, I don’t, and I won’t. I have masterfully orchestrated the positive feedback loop (strange that this is one of few things that can be described as positive in my life) in which the feeling of disappointment and dissatisfaction with myself sets me up for the glorious streak of weeks, months, and years that I’m in.
As I write this, my search for a performance coach, which is in its third week, feels like yet another weak, uncommitted attempt at fixing things that may never be fixed. It is tantamount to transferring responsibilities of taking care of things that you ought to have taken care of yourself in the first place.
“You used to be good at mastering things and bringing them to the finishing line; that’s a skill that you have that we can work with”,
tells the second of four coaches in the obligatory free session. The conversation was quite pleasant and smooth. I felt comfortable sharing what I was seeking. There were no uncomfortable silences. There was a mutual convergence, probably because the coach was a musician and had goals that were similar to mind.
The meeting itself was rather unplanned. The coach had gotten in touch with me over email and text messages, requesting me to suggest a good time to meet. I was out riding all weekend. So when I respond around 3 pm IST on Sunday, I wasn’t expecting a call on my phone by 6.30 pm, which would then be followed by at one-hour conversation starting at 8 pm.
In between, I familiarize myself with his website. In the messaging on the site, I see patterns that indicate potential incompatibilities in the approaches and philosophies employed if we were to work together.
Yet, I prepare my story, keeping in mind the need for not wasting the coach’s time. I’m constantly reminded that they are all professionals and that they use the money these coaching sessions bring to make ends meet. The problem is that most of them charge more than I could ever afford. To admit this fact is painful and insulting. Makes me wonder why I started my search in the first place.
The two that I have met so far have assured me that they won’t let the cost barrier be the reason why I can’t work with them. I’m still not sure what that means in terms of their fees, but it does make me feel like I’m spending money to buy band-aids to cover up my wounds, instead of admitting that I require something else. Something that may not even be real.
When I read this article on The Atlantic, I was expecting to be feeling slightly more at peace with myself for being in the state of dissatisfaction/disappointment. Of course, I haven’t tried what the article suggests one try, but being aware of the possibility of a way out must help, no? It hasn’t.
Maybe it is because I ended up doing something that I said I’d do less of. Maybe it is because I haven’t been able to write for the past few days. Maybe it is because I just heard from my partner that my ex has had some unkind things to say about me. Maybe it is because my partner did not let me know about this until after I sent to my ex a note with an article that I read on The Marginalian about long-distance relationships. And then, in an unpleasant conversation with my partner, I was told that I sound like someone that I don’t want to sound like. Someone who, until recently, I thought I could help to not sound like how they sound like.
I haven’t been in touch with most people who I used to care about for the last two years. This includes my ex. My partner, who tries to be a messenger between me and the ones that I have left behind, tried the same with my ex. When he saw a sliver of light in the dark skies that have been looming over me, he tried to nudge me to get in touch with the ex. Of course I said I don’t want to. Of course I said I feel it would be better not to care about others until I have gotten myself back together. Of course I still think this is the truth.
The real question is this: will I ever get myself back together?
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