On Fear

I can't escape it. Every week, Monday, 8AM. Begging that my schedule is normal. I take an injection. Every week, I draw the medicine and stare at the needle. Every week, before the tip touches the skin the pain strikes my leg. Every week, I panic. Every week, I melt the panic into resolve. I take the plunge. The pain isn't immense. Compared to the daily back pain. Compared to the pinched nerves. Compared to the weekly migraines... It's a 1. In that moment? I can't handle it. The weekly humility of stabbing myself in a bathroom stall. I'd rather feel something, than avoid the pain. Every week, I start new. Except for the past three weeks. Two Friday calls "We need you to go back." I intended to take a week off of the injections. It seems to help to cycle out and cycle in. I was not expecting to go three weeks. If downhill was a destination, I was stranded there. Three weeks, everything became a little less. Less vibrant, less lovely, less emotional. Last Tuesday, it was gone. Thinking on it now? Terrified, overwhelmed, desperate. It was gone. I could have said no. I could have made my case. I should have. It would have been okay. But, with the "break" I decided to take, I didn't have the courage. I couldn't say no. Courage

It's been said before, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear." Thank you former presidents for words of wisdom. Wednesday, there was no pain. No panic. Nothing. I grabbed the needle. Stared at it, and stabbed. It stung a bit. Mechanical, wooden, I applied pressure and placed a bandage. Within hours, my mood lifted. By the end of the day everything was back. Including the pain. I have to get out. There's options to fix me. I hate the word, but it's the truth. Broken. But those options to fix me are out of my reach. I can't take them. Someone decided I couldn't. Some years before I was born decided that I couldn't heal myself. Because it's dangerous. So are bullets. So are medicines. So are anything without moderation. Regulation without oversight is dangerous. That's why we have a democracy. Right? I have to get out. I have a family. I have loved ones. I have passions, projects, dreams that call for me to work on them. What I don't have, is money. I don't have wealth. I don't have something to fall back on. I don't have the means to give up. I don't have the means to fall down. I don't have the means to collapse and cry. So I'm looking. Technical writing has started picking up, earned some from it. Not enough to call it a career yet. Started my application as a teacher for University of the People. Brilliant for the students. Honorarium for me. If you're uncertain what that means... it's a small stipend for volunteering expertise service. I'd like pay for that service, and offer IT work with an honorarium. That would make more sense to me. A professional skill I have, that I'm not fond of. But, is of immense help to others. That to me deserves sharing with the community. For an honorarium. It's respecting that I have a professional skill that I charge a hefty hourly for. Yet. It's not something I enjoy. In small fact, I hate it. I hate my job. I should clarify. I hate parts of it. I love code. It's writing, with arcane artifice you turn words into commands. Which create programs. Lovely. Engineering? I solve complex problems with complex thought. I struggle through procedural bureaucracy. I flounder in something that I do well at but I have no training in. I've done well with it for years now. I'm done. I'm starting the transition into software development. While teaching. While writing. While learning. I'll be adding another learning. Software development. Technical writing, culinary school, teaching, and software development degree. On Leaving

I'm ready. I want to start a hydroponic garden, and selling the product. I can swing a $40K start. I'll add microgreens, I'll talk to chefs. I'll bond over a love of cooking and quality ingredients. I'll grow the business until I can hire someone. Once it's up, running, and profitable. I'll start a food truck. Another $40K start. This time with a business to back it, and fresh ingredients for my food. I'll manage the hydroponics, and start making headway with other restaurants. I'll have a good reputation at the start, and a good connection. Then I'll grow that too. Hire people to manage. Hire chefs to cook. Buy more food trucks. Expand. There's fear. I choose not to escape it.