River on a rock

There is a toxic poison that goes unnoticed by the FDA today.

Technically there are a lot. But this one in particular has destroyed the health and spirits of great men, kept untold thousands bedridden, and, if left untreated, destroys from the inside out. It is gradual; the effects aren’t seen immediately—rather, they slowly mold and form and contort until they determine how best to eliminate their target. It is a river on a rock. 

The poison, of course, is disappointment. To be more explicit, this refers to disappointment and the way by which we respond. 

To begin, everyone in life will face disappointment. It is a common, uniting characteristic of being human. At some point as a child, you will be let down. Your birthday won’t go the way you planned, that kid you like won’t like you back, your parents will do something to upset you and cease to be perfect gods. However it begins, the inevitable start will quickly snowball into larger, and more grand, disappointments.

The worries and issues become more pressing and more intense. The stakes get higher as one grows into adulthood and beyond; resultantly, the feelings and disappointments grow more intense. 

And it works on a person like a poison. If one never fully recovered, or at least processed, the last disappointment, the next one that occurs a day later isn’t going to suddenly restart the count and begin anew.

Instead, the bitterness amplifies and augments to include another heartbreak. Soon, without reckoning with the past, a fully grown man will find that they have so much anger residing within that the idea of another letdown becomes too much to handle. They find they would rather shy away from trying anymore; it’s too much. It seems that anytime they attempt to find happiness or accept that the best possible scenario could occur, reality comes striking down with more bad news. Maybe they weren’t meant to be happy. 

So it goes, a downward cycle of what they consider lost potential. Disappointment strikes and the affected fellow becomes fixedly nostalgic for times when the lucky break did occur. For when life felt easier and more simple, when life was seemingly rational and logical. This, of course, is another fallacy, for life is absurd at its core. Life itself has no plan for us. 

This is when many turn to religion or predestination. It is easier to put one’s trust in something larger than life, something that has a plan laid out for us, rather than try to do things ourselves and face another potential heartache. Life is so much easier when one gives up their “free will” in acceptance of a way of life that determines all will be okay in the end.

The disappointed person becomes institutionalized by this thought process, similar to a prisoner who begins to crave the rigidity of a schedule, the career army man who can’t imagine life without orders. If life is all working out according to a predestined plan, that’s more room to take the foot off the gas and try to enjoy life.

The crazy part is that this oxymoron can actually work in a backhanded way. Once the fear of choice and disappointment is seemingly alleviated, many will feel as though they can relax and enjoy themselves. This allows them to begin to make choices regarding their future again, but this time with the authority of a higher power—if it goes bad, it is just fate or God saying no. That is easier to bear than the thought of failing from your own devices or inadequacies. 

Nothing I’m saying is new, Camus discussed this in The Myth of Sisyphus: “As in all religions, man is freed of the weight of his own life.” While he took his view toward religion, he still recognized and empathized with the need for it. He saw it as a method for man to make decisions without the burden of their self bearing the consequences.

While appealing to a higher power works occasionally, I still feel as though this fear of disappointment can seep through the cracks that religion or predestination so hastily tried to pave over. Until we find ways to process failures and setbacks, we will never be truly happy or courageous, no matter what band-aid solution is used to alleviate the sting. 

I am twenty-seven years old this year. In all honesty, I don’t feel I have much to show for my quarter century on earth. I embed myself in new jobs and industries, hobbies and interests as often as I can to learn new things and become more rounded as an individual—whether I do this out of fear of actually having to commit to something could be debated—but I still feel I don’t have much of a grounded, secure life.

I haven’t found a long-lasting, meaningful career. I haven’t started a family. I don’t even have much money in the bank to show for my wandering ways. Last year, I thought, not a few times, that I finally found my way. Each time, I was let down. The gold in the rough turned out to be more rough. 

I gained confidence in strange ways and lost it in stranger. I felt as though I could do anything for a while but found that most of the things I started up just fizzled out. I give myself credit for trying. I wanted to edit books, so I became an actual, professional editor. I wanted to start a company, so I did. I wanted to be a journalist, so I got a job with a local newspaper. I wanted to be a PM in construction, so I became one. 

Unfortunately, many of those things have come collapsing since inception. I want to give myself more credit for doing it anyway, regardless of result, but I find it actually makes me sad. Here I sit at a coffee shop, a MacBook to my name and a job as a bartender as my only occupation. Close personal relationships let me down a lot last year and it feels as though I have less friends and inspiring people in my life this year than at the exact time last year. 

As a result of how I perceive my current situation, each step becomes harder to take now; how much easier would it be if I played it safe. Remain a semi-broke bartender without insurance and hope that fate would come and rescue me specifically from the clutches of unhappiness.

But how egotistical is that to think that fate would care about me. Nothing predetermined my path and nothing is coming to rescue me. I cannot sit back and say “oh well, whatever happens will happen” because nothing will happen until I myself move it into action. 

At its core, disappointment is a spiritual problem. One that cannot be cured by physical ailments or mechanisms. Some turn to the bottle, some to exercise, some to retail therapy, some to actual talk therapy. No amount of talking, walking or drinking will cure the bitterness and fear inside that results from disappointment. It is an issue reckoned by spiritual movement and resolve. If the decision is never formally made to accept the doubts and fears and proceed regardless, to put aside the past and consider the future, happiness and freedom from anguish shall never be felt. Like sour candy on the tongue, the piquant feeling shall remain perpetually. 

Bitterness from disappointment is river onto a rock, eroding any sense of self-worth or self-confidence. With each passing heartbreak, the torrent grows stronger and faster. It cuts further into land and becomes harder to stop. Soon, one may find their entire inner selves dictated by the current of the water rather than the foundation they used to stand on. Bitterness begets more bitterness, the water flows stronger. 

Until a dam is erected to stand against the stream of hatred, no progress will ever be accomplished. Body and spirit must be in accordance if there is any hope to build the structure. The water will always be there, the disappointments will never stop. What we choose to do with the water is what determines our future. We can allow it to flow harder each day, accepting the futility of life and dreams. We can sacrifice and resign ourselves to a lesser fate than the one that is deserved. We can believe things are predestined and give up on making independent decisions entirely. We can skate by without ever truly attempting something again, better to live safe than get our hopes up and have them let down again. 

Or a spiritual dam can be built.

The thought of making decisions, while scary, can still be put to good use and eventually lead to a better future. We can put aside the bitterness of the past mistakes and grievances to try something new. Humans, throughout history, have always been dreamers. Our society has come this far because every generation has those who refuse to acknowledge disappointment and, instead, dream of better, finding ways to substantiate their ideas and keep the ball rolling. Until the fear of disappointment is alleviated, nothing will be accomplished. But once it has been handled, anything is possible. 

And, admittedly, the fear is never truly gone. What determines character is the movement beyond fear and the perseverance of spirit. So long as that is held tight, life becomes a litany of possibilities.