Friday, July 31, 2020

Discovering Scars & Chasing Racecars

I can't sleep. It's 4AM. Par for the course for me lately.
I saw my Dad for the first time in a year and a half yesterday. It felt good, I'm happy to see he's doing better. Mom's death obviously put a strain on our relationship, but still it wasn't like I meant for that much time to pass, it just did. I couldn't afford a road trip, then all hell broke loose around the world. I became convinced we'd be living out Mad Max by now and it just kinda happened. I was nervous about the visit, however. Probably because I'm at a pretty major crossroads in life.

Since about May or so I've gained the level of self awareness that many were annoyed I hadn't reached years ago. I've also been told it's nearing time that I should find my own place. I'll admit, I've been a pretty horrid roommate. I'm hard to understand, and harder to live with. I'm not mad about it, but I've been brought to the realization that I brought way too much pain with me upon moving here, and put way too much faith in the idea that it would all melt away as I began my life.
Truth be told, the opposite has happened. I've found myself often overwhelmed, consumed by a burning desire to rise above the trauma and reach even a third of my potential. Or at least the potential that others claim they see in me.
It forces me to neglect responsibility and instead cocoon myself in a pair of headphones and hope I find whatever I'm burning for in my 6,000th listen to Kanye West's "Runaway." Of course, that never happens.

My career in auto racing more or less legitimately began in May, and it's just about all that motivates me currently. I won't begin to lie and say that what I do is what I ever imagined myself doing, but I am more than proud to have weekly paystubs with the NHRA's name on them. In more ways than I can count, the feeling of working for them replicates that of my wrestling days when I was with Empire. The work is brutal, the pay won't make me rich, but I am reminded every day I enter the gates that I am in this exclusively for the love of the sport. If I couldn't hack it as a journalist, then by God I am willing to break my body and sacrifice my sanity to prove I belong somewhere in this industry, and that I love it with all my heart. My confidence, though. It just isn't there. I'm constantly job scared for no reason, and all the time doubting myself and whether I'll ever get where I want to be.

So yeah. About sacrificing my sanity. I spend a lot of time wishing I could makeup for my lack of kindness in the time after Mom died. I lie awake and quietly cry what is now becoming multiple times a week wishing I could reach out, often to 2 people in particular, and explain what I've since learned about how to treat others, and express my sorrow. But they're gone, and all I have now are the people in my life today.
And I don't believe I've been all that great to them either.

You're seeing a pattern here; My confidence is still just as wrecked as it was the day I woke up hungover 3 years ago and said I needed to change.

So yeah. I'm at a crossroads. I know that I'm on the right track (pun intended) towards making a career for myself in auto racing. However, if I'm ever going to reach that aforementioned potential, professional or personal, it is imperative I work more on healing my heart and soul than before. Because what I've been doing ain't working.

I have faith that things will improve. And I'm more than thankful that my love for what I do, and the incredible people in my life today are carrying me though a strange time.  I promise, I'll heal my heart and get things right soon enough.

Til then, I guess it's time to get some sleep.

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