her eyes shined

In 2013 I went to Guatemala with my 18 year old daughter. One day we were in a rural area visiting some families that do not speak Spanish, but a dialect that I couldn't understand a word of. While the grownups talked, I went outside to see the kids. None of the kids we visited had fathers and I decided that I was going to completely let go and put in my eyes as much delight and enjoyment as I could possible give them. Actually, it was less like putting and more like letting go. I played with them, swung them around, hung them upside down. Never spoke a word. Looked them in the eye and smiled at them. There was one girl in particular. Seven years old. It took me 30 minutes to coax her out to play with me and her brother. Smiling and waving to show her it was safe. When she joined us we threw a small thing like a hula hoop back and forth for almost an hour. Every time I looked at her I allowed my full heart to show. She had the most beautiful smile. Her eyes shined. She saw in my eyes that she was beautiful. Right now I can feel her in my chest. Little girls see in our eyes that they are lovely and that's how they know they are lovely.

how hard her life was

My father was interested in man things. He was a test-pilot, rode a motorcycle, drove a sports car, drank beer, watched football, collected guns. After he died we had no money. He was living with a woman who fought my mother in court for his estate. Said she was his common-law wife. As a result we had no money. Food was an issue. One day my mother took one of his guns out of her closet. She sat me and my brother on her bed. She tried to kill all three of us. She couldn't follow through, but she tried. Sobbing. She would sometimes tell us about it later. To show how hard her life was.

i'd rather suffer

I really struggle with inconsistency. There are days when I am brilliant. Interesting. But most days I am mediocre. Dull. Stupid. The bad days scare me. They seem more real. I sit in my cubicle by myself and try to use self-talk to remember how to be interesting. It doesn't work. I want to be happy. My family needs me to be happy. But I hate myself so much that nothing moves. I have so many reasons to condemn myself. It's easy. Almost pleasant. Downhill the whole way. The world seems so black and empty in those moments.

I know the answer. It is so simple. Confidence. When I believe that I am special, I am. Confidence is such a mystery to me. The world is full of men that are confident. But they rape and kill and hate. They do harm and feel put out when everyone fails to bow to them. I am a man that cares. For women. For children. For hurting people. Even in my black moments I know this. If only I could use their trick. Tap into confidence and move through the world without doubt and fear. I would be a force for good. But somehow, in a way that seems stupid even to me, I don't trust it. Confidence, deep down, feels like the path to being one of them. It feels like if even if I could stop constantly questioning myself and judging myself I would become an asshole. Another arrogant man that takes and hurts and then leaves. I'd rather suffer.