I’d love to be able to create a bike naturally, and would even be willing to go to term with it inside a womb if need be. (I would need to get a womb first, of course).
But it ain’t gonna happen.
And like a lot in life, being able to give birth to bicycles is just one of the many things that don’t turn out how I want them to be.
Expectations are never kind, particularly so when they are unfulfilled. I guess I have failed to meet expectations of me, and am even guiltier of expecting more of others.
I’m fighting with myself almost constantly over coming to acceptance with the idea of life not being as I expected.
Sometimes, I can accept that things aren’t gonna turn out how I want them to, so I need to adjust, and I can adjust myself, or do something to change the situation, which is pretty infrequently considering how powerless I am.
I’m in an uncomfortable situation at the moment where I have to accept that I am no longer a front line worker, which deflates my ego and lowers my already low self-esteem and warped sense of self-worth, which is polarized between either complete meekness or swagger.
Each day is bringing a new humiliation. The easy answer would be, of course, to change jobs, except that is a humiliating experience in itself as the workforce reminds me that people of my age and skillset are pretty much worthless.
I’m trying to adapt by reminding myself that I need to learn how to age properly. I don’t know what it means, really. I am flying by the seat of my pants.
In the meantime, I will keep riding and hoping that something will work out. Experience suggests that something will, indeed, work out. I just wish it worked out in a way that brought less discomfort and uneasiness.
