"A man can be destroyed, but not defeated." -- Ernest Hemingway
That seems a little convoluted at first read. Destroyed and defeated are similes right? Dig deeper though, and it sums up the last 15 months of my life.
In every way other than physically, I was blown up, I was destroyed. The pieces were all over the place, and at times it didn't look like they'd ever get put back together. My demons destroyed me, the outside world destroyed me on the inside, but at the end, the game was never over -- I was never defeated and I'm far from it now.
You can't go very far without seeing the parallels in everything. Drug addicts who get clean don't allow defeat; alcoholics who stop drinking fend off defeat. All the way down to something as trivial as sports. I think about the Detroit Tigers...just like I do in most life situations -- I draw the parallel with my Tigers.
In 2003 they were God awful. One of the three worst teams in the history of baseball. They were right there, ready for infamy in the final week of the season. With six games left, even if the Tigers went four and two, they would have hit the record books as the worst team in baseball history. Three of those final six games were against the playoff-bound Minnesota Twins...they were screwed. But it didn't happen. A team of nobodies, historically awful, dug in and won five of their final six to stay clear of the ultimate record for futility. They got destroyed all season long, but they weren't defeated.
Hemingway's quote comes from The Old Man and the Sea. If you know much about the book, it's typical Hemingway. Bleak and dark with moments of shining hope. Santiago, a weathered old fisherman who went out to sea for 84 straight days without ever catching a bite, never gave up despite seeing and living through what most of us would consider hell.
Everyone in town thinks Santiago is a hopeless bum...a joke. He survives the driest of dry spells by recalling the plight of others, and drawing inspiration from their battles, their perseverance, and their eventual mini-triumphs. Santiago thinks of the pain of his heroes, specifically Joe Dimaggio (see, Hemingway deferred to sports too!) and the pain he played in late in his career. Still, Dimaggio's mental toughness carried him through the darkest, most painful days. He was destroyed at times -- by the media, by his own body -- but he kept playing, much like Santiago, who kept fishing. They were never defeated.
In the end, the desire and drive to not be defeated cannot come from anywhere else but inside of you. There is nobody else who can fight for you. Hemingway hits the core of something I deal with every day of my life. The days where I cry, still, but don't tell anybody. Days that could easily erode very quickly. Man cannot be defeated, but I think the caveat is -- if he doesn't let it happen. That's life, and I think that's the key to figuring out this whole giant mess. Never being defeated means always finding hope in the rubble. It means healing depite being broken apart.
That's why I need to leave Florida, and never come back unless it's to Tampa, Orlando, the beach, or anywhere but Lakeland. It's a mess down here (and it has nothing to do with Lakeland or it's people...I actually LOVE the people down here). A man who I have always looked up to as my strength and my rock is letting defeat wash over him.
Your brain is a muscle that, like every other muscle, needs to be used every day, and needs exercise. If you turn the power over to someone else to think for you, and allow yourself to be a passenger while someone else makes all of your life decisions for you, down to the simplest things imaginable...then you're planting the seeds of ultimate defeat.
I did what I needed to do for me while I was away from home. My sabbatical of a year has awakened me a lot to things. I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable in my own skin. I respect myself more, I like myself more, and I've gotten in touch with something inside of me -- a soul I never knew existed before my destruction. I can't control how other people choose to live and conduct themselves. It hurts like hell to sit by as a passenger sometimes while loves ones just seemed resigned to defeat, but, to be happy I CANNOT LET IT GET TO ME. The freshest of fresh starts is happening in a little bit less than a month, and that's such a beautiful gift that so many people never, ever receive.
That plane takes off next week, and an icredible weight comes off of my shoulders. A weight that has been off of a lot of other people's shoulders for a while now. I'm the last person hanging onto the ring, but, I'm letting go of it too.
In every way other than physically, I was blown up, I was destroyed. The pieces were all over the place, and at times it didn't look like they'd ever get put back together. My demons destroyed me, the outside world destroyed me on the inside, but at the end, the game was never over -- I was never defeated and I'm far from it now.
You can't go very far without seeing the parallels in everything. Drug addicts who get clean don't allow defeat; alcoholics who stop drinking fend off defeat. All the way down to something as trivial as sports. I think about the Detroit Tigers...just like I do in most life situations -- I draw the parallel with my Tigers.
In 2003 they were God awful. One of the three worst teams in the history of baseball. They were right there, ready for infamy in the final week of the season. With six games left, even if the Tigers went four and two, they would have hit the record books as the worst team in baseball history. Three of those final six games were against the playoff-bound Minnesota Twins...they were screwed. But it didn't happen. A team of nobodies, historically awful, dug in and won five of their final six to stay clear of the ultimate record for futility. They got destroyed all season long, but they weren't defeated.
Hemingway's quote comes from The Old Man and the Sea. If you know much about the book, it's typical Hemingway. Bleak and dark with moments of shining hope. Santiago, a weathered old fisherman who went out to sea for 84 straight days without ever catching a bite, never gave up despite seeing and living through what most of us would consider hell.
Everyone in town thinks Santiago is a hopeless bum...a joke. He survives the driest of dry spells by recalling the plight of others, and drawing inspiration from their battles, their perseverance, and their eventual mini-triumphs. Santiago thinks of the pain of his heroes, specifically Joe Dimaggio (see, Hemingway deferred to sports too!) and the pain he played in late in his career. Still, Dimaggio's mental toughness carried him through the darkest, most painful days. He was destroyed at times -- by the media, by his own body -- but he kept playing, much like Santiago, who kept fishing. They were never defeated.
In the end, the desire and drive to not be defeated cannot come from anywhere else but inside of you. There is nobody else who can fight for you. Hemingway hits the core of something I deal with every day of my life. The days where I cry, still, but don't tell anybody. Days that could easily erode very quickly. Man cannot be defeated, but I think the caveat is -- if he doesn't let it happen. That's life, and I think that's the key to figuring out this whole giant mess. Never being defeated means always finding hope in the rubble. It means healing depite being broken apart.
That's why I need to leave Florida, and never come back unless it's to Tampa, Orlando, the beach, or anywhere but Lakeland. It's a mess down here (and it has nothing to do with Lakeland or it's people...I actually LOVE the people down here). A man who I have always looked up to as my strength and my rock is letting defeat wash over him.
Your brain is a muscle that, like every other muscle, needs to be used every day, and needs exercise. If you turn the power over to someone else to think for you, and allow yourself to be a passenger while someone else makes all of your life decisions for you, down to the simplest things imaginable...then you're planting the seeds of ultimate defeat.
I did what I needed to do for me while I was away from home. My sabbatical of a year has awakened me a lot to things. I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable in my own skin. I respect myself more, I like myself more, and I've gotten in touch with something inside of me -- a soul I never knew existed before my destruction. I can't control how other people choose to live and conduct themselves. It hurts like hell to sit by as a passenger sometimes while loves ones just seemed resigned to defeat, but, to be happy I CANNOT LET IT GET TO ME. The freshest of fresh starts is happening in a little bit less than a month, and that's such a beautiful gift that so many people never, ever receive.
That plane takes off next week, and an icredible weight comes off of my shoulders. A weight that has been off of a lot of other people's shoulders for a while now. I'm the last person hanging onto the ring, but, I'm letting go of it too.
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