OK, so a little door opened just a crack for me yesterday.
And for a moment I was thrilled, my heart filled with elation and I felt something almost akin to hope.
And then of course, my old mucker Fear decided to drop by and poke me in the solar plexus with a witchy gnarled up finger, reminding me just where Hope had gotten me in the past.
Because Hope, my friends, is so much more scary to me than Defeatism.
Defeatism always lives up to one’s expectations. Hope, my dears, guarantees nothing and can take your hearts desire and hand it over to those biatches Failure, Disappointment, Humiliation and Despair who’ll kick it around whooping and jeering, stamp on it, then for their big finale, poo on it from a great height.
Hence I’ve never really allowed myself to want something or someone too much, indeed I usually swiftly dismiss/reject it/them, so then I’m not putting my ass/ego on the line.
Next step up the corporate ladder? “Nah, that would make me ‘one of them'”
Real/main reason? ‘I might get busted and everyone will find out what a fake I am’
Maintaining a sex life? “Can’t be bothered with all that malarky, life is much easier without the hassle of men!”
Real reason? ‘I’m afraid plus I’m too old and don’t think I’m attractive enough to attract anyone anymore’
Handsome eligible man? “Who, him? Not my type, looks too conventional, plus he’s far too up himself”
Real/main reason? ‘He wouldn’t touch me with a bargepole plus if he did he’d only two time and hurt me, so I’ll get in there first, and hopefully bruise his ego. Result!’
Dream cottage in the country? “There is too much going against it, and there are plans for a big factory being built in that area”
Real reason? ‘It’s too much commitment/risk, what if I lose my job as I can’t keep this act up anymore?’ (ha, I was actually right about that one!)
So I’ve pretty much stayed stuck in one place for most of my life thanks for the fear of the worst case scenario, courtesy of the ‘Chicken Licken’ gene that programmes you to believe that disaster is just around the corner. Thanks for that one, Mum.
But I’ve got a choice here; to go for it, or to continue to fester on the sofa until I have a fucking stroke, then die inch by inch in the most appalling way whilst my relatives fight over my belongings and my cats starve <See?! Go away, Chicken Licken!>
It’s not like I don’t know how to fight for something but I only tend to come out punching when threatened and then I go crazy and annihilate people, so not the best use of courage, strength and ambition 😦
So as much as it scares me, and as much as I fear the outcome, I’m going to go for it. Only one person knows about it, so only she will witness my humiliation if it all goes horribly wrong. It’s going to take some work and some serious acting on my part, as this agency wants people who are, and I quote ‘comfortable in their skin’ (hilarious eh!), and physically fit to boot, but I need to get my ass in shape, and Lent starts tomorrow so this is the perfect time to prepare.
I applied for this thing with no hope of even getting a reply so whilst I’m trying not to see it as fate or apply any other meaning to it, it is without doubt an opportunity so I’m going to try and confine my clucky little pal to the freezer to devour on Easter Sunday and give it my best shot.
And if he scrabbles from under the ice cubes and frozen peas, gets out and starts squawking again?
I pray to Got that the Easter Bunny will sally forth to my rescue 🙂
Wish me luck!