An awkward beginning

Posted By Cassandra Disque on June 16, 2004

No matter what I do there is still a part of me that believes that if I keep running away, I will eventually inadvertently arrive at the destination which provokes all of my fleeing: failure. If I do not try, then I cannot really fail, now can I? If I put in the maximum effort only to receive a return of minimum success, then I have failed upon my own merits.

The fear of failing due to not being personally up to speed in anything is probably what keeps me the most inhibited and leaves me inclined to completely eschew all chance of success by failing by default instead of by unworthy effort.

The recognization of such is no great accomplishment; it is not a conclusion I have reached after years of introspection and self-punishment. No, this is something I have known almost from the start. Knowledge has not prevented it from happening ad nauseum. It is still far easier to admit that I may become a failure than it is to admit that I am trying and failing.

That being said, I am once again trying.

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About the author

Cassandra Disque

Extemporaneous flibbertigibbet with bone lumps growing out of my coccyx. I was born in 1981. I was another case of "too much, too young," or at least I wanted to be. Now I'm leaning toward "too little, too late," as my body conks out on me, and I find I haven't done hardly any of the things I wanted. This is supposed to happen to people twice my age, so you might find my perspective on life to be a little unusual -- as in, I find just about everything to be hysterically funny, because there's little use in worrying when it's all going to go kaput.

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"The Drag of Gimp"

Since 1996, my life has been a long journey of visiting one doctor after another. I look more or less fine, but I'm not. My daily pill count is like playing the dozens with a hospice patient. One doctor will say I'm doomed, and send me to another for treatment, but the treating doctor will find nothing within his or her area of practice that can be treated.

My life is better than a comedy, better than a drama. Anyone who has done this knows what I mean when I say that you have to not only know the rules, but also play the part in order to be allowed in the game. Most people find what we go through in the medical merry-go-round to be unbelievable, which is why I call it "The Drag of Gimp."


About the author

Cassandra Disque

Extemporaneous flibbertigibbet with bone lumps growing out of my coccyx. I was born in 1981. I was another case of "too much, too young," or at least I wanted to be. Now I'm leaning toward "too little, too late," as my body conks out on me, and I find I haven't done hardly any of the things I wanted. This is supposed to happen to people twice my age, so you might find my perspective on life to be a little unusual -- as in, I find just about everything to be hysterically funny, because there's little use in worrying when it's all going to go kaput.