The Wish is Father to the Fear

"The wish is father to the fear," my therapist tells me.

I look at him quizzically knowing he'll wait patiently for me to ask outright, "What does that mean."

"That what you fear you secretly wish." he answers.

"So if I'm afraid of dying then I'm secretly wishing I'd die?" I ask, opting for the most extreme example, hoping to stump his little theory.

"Part of you, yes." He answers, flexing his unstumable brain.

"Interesting."

"Let's ally it to your example that you're afraid you'll get fired from your job. You repeatedly talk about not wanting to get fired, yet you keep getting in trouble. And if behavior reveals what a person really wants, then it stands to reason that deep down, your intention is to get fired."

"You don't seriously believe that I'm trying to get fired, do you?" I ask.

"Not consciously, no. But it's important to reiterate that 90% of all decisions are made on an unconscious level, and if that's true, then unconsciously yes, you want to get fired."

"But I don't want to get fired." I say.

"I disagree." He says.

"Dude, I'm telling you, I-don't-want-to-get-fired."

"I hear what your saying, but it's incongruent with how you act, and not wanting something to happen is different than being afraid it will happen. The wish is father to the fear."

"Stop saying that!"

"You want me to stop speaking the truth?"

"No, of course not, but...see...I'm afraid but...god damn it...you got me all fucked up." I bark.

"I'm quite sure I didn't fuck you up, someone did, but it wasn't me." he says.

"Smug prick." I mumble.

He smiles.

"OK, so I wish they'd fire me." I lie.

"Keep going." he says.

"Then I can be poor, lose my insurance, be thrown out on the street, and be a homeless loser."

"I think we've stumbled on something here." he interrupts.

"Wha?" I ask, slack jawed.

"That last part." he answers.

"Homeless loser?"

"That very last part." he says.

"Loser." I whisper.

"If you didn't unconsciously think you were a loser..." he's goading me to finish.

"Then I wouldn't wish to get fired."

He marinates me in his self righteous stare. I wonder if he can hear me berating him with every swear combination I know, and a few new ones.

MultiPlease

Please.

You could call it a prayer, but I'm not sure I believe in God.

You could call it a request, but it fails to telegraph the desperation.

You could call it politeness, but I'm beyond that.

Please.

It rolls around inside my head every time I dream of the possibilities. It preambles the mantra that there will be no harder worker, no more determined promoter, no more enthusiastic a marketer.

Please.

But it's also a plea to the universe for redemption. An affirmative answer allows me to transcend, like Phoenix, into the unknown. It permits me to sigh years of baited breath.

It gives me a chance to let go.

But there are times that defiance creeps in. Please is demanding, like I'm owed.

Please, I am owed.

And should the universe deny me, please is my excuse to refuse plan B, to give up on writing. Please is the anvil that collapses the parachute of gratitude, plunging me into self pity.

Then please will be the answer to looking on the bright side, Maybe it's all for the best...

Please.

For now, I'll use it to hush the myriad of thoughts, good and bad, that hurl at me everyday. I've never been this close...I'm almost there...But what if it doesn't work...What if they hate it...I'll be stuck in purgatory forever...

Please!

Bryan The Great?

I read presidential biographies hoping they'll reveal what makes men great.  

I go to church and watch men of faith profess God's greatness, but they all seem to ignore the fact that understanding greatness on God's level can only lead to an unabashedly prime example of how far we are from achieving it.

Yet I wonder what legacy I'll leave behind, if anyone will consider me a great man.

I guess it all depends on the yardstick. Measuring greatness depends on the scale. Great can be simply doing the right thing. So in that sense I've fallen short.

One could say I'm a great survivor. But surviving is merely the ability to wait out a struggle. Although overcoming adversity doesn't render one great, falling and getting back up does.

Sometimes I measure greatness by way of accomplishment, accumulation, and status, but using this scale leaves room for scoundrels.

Maybe it lies in simplicity, peace of mind, or morality. Not necessarily in a religious sense, but an ideological one. Perhaps greatness is merely self-actualization leading to an unshakable foundation of belief in oneself that leads others to admiration. Maybe it's being a husband, model employee, or responsible citizen.

Or maybe the genesis of greatness begins with the question; just like neither the chicken nor the egg could have preceded the idea of such, maybe defining greatness will help me achieve it.

So here goes...greatness is---

Trying to be better than I was yesterday.