Disappointment. Disappointment frightens me. It stops my foot from taking another step towards the mirror of truth. I quiver in fear, unable to fathom the sight of my own figure.
What if all I see is disappointment?
Understanding oneself is arguably the most treacherous journey in life. The lucky ones start walking without questioning the outcome, without examining the risk. Obliviously, they embark on a path that may leave them in shambles. I envy them.
I wish I had not a brain, but beauty. No, not beauty, but the foolishness, the foolishness that can only be described as satisfaction?
I look down at my feet, still strongly planted on the ground. They need the very thing that the others have. And yet, though I can see them paving through their journey? And although I could hear them talk? I can't quite articulate this thing that they have.
What keeps them from fearing disappointment?
Understanding the source of my disappointment will, perhaps, allow me to begin this journey. Having low expectations seem to be one part of the puzzle. Even though low expectations can ease the process, they do not guarantee satisfaction.
What am I afraid of being disappointed of?
I am afraid that I will be disappointed with the true version of myself. But who is the artist behind this "version of myself"? Who illustrated the true facets of my exterior and interior? Who decided the number of dimensions I would possess?
Policy makers say, I am shaped by the government. Teachers say, I am shaped by my peers. Psychologists say, I am shaped by nature and nurture. Preachers say, God shaped me. Self-help gurus say, I am shaped by myself.
Who am I disappointed in?
Depending on who's talking, I might become disappointed in the government, my friends and family, genetics, God, and myself. At the end of the day, life will disappoint. So how can I make sure that he/she/it doesn't disappoint me?
I look at more oblivion figures walk past me. Some are policy makers, teachers, psychologists, preachers, and self-help gurus. Knowing who will disappoint them, even if it were themselves, does not stop them from taking another step. Now, why is that? What do they have that I don't?
What stops me from making others disappointed?
Let's pretend that this creator can do no wrong: that even his mistakes are nothing but disguised perfection. Perhaps, then, I could happily assume that the disappointment I see is nothing but a temporary lapse in judgment. I misunderstood what he/she/it meant, hence I could not appreciate my true self.
If I trust that my creator, be it something within or beyond me, can do no wrong, I shall be saved from disappointment.
My foot begins to move, strengthening with each step, accelerating as I become increasingly trusting of my creator.
*The featured image is provided by the author