A New Schnikism: Erase Records, Write Histories

You guys are like Butch and Sundance, peering over the edge of a cliff to the bolder-filled rapids 300 feet below thinking you better not jump because you might drown.

C.J. Craig (Via Aaron Sorkin, The West Wing)

Erase Records, Write Histories. I’ve had that phrase in my head for many months, almost 2 years. I bought a t-shirt with those words emblazoned on the front and I’ve been thinking about what those words really mean to me as I take stock of the last forty-three years of my life.

Then I ran across this Douglas Adams Quote which is “it’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop at the end.” Now all deference to both quote thinkers, but it’s really neither that kills you – It’s that moment when your heart, head, limbs, sanity, vanity, morality, immortality, sense of purpose, worth, worthiness, worthlessness, humanity, and humility all come crashing down around you. When you’re standing over the wreckage of your life wondering “how did I get here.”

For me, I can remember the exact moment when the wheels of fate started to turn and for me there became no way out. For me, I can remember the exact moment(s) when my life and its direction and the imprints on my heart caused me to tumble through life like a weed. The wind has been guiding me where I should go, but it’s always been in my face. These winds of change brought people into and swept then out of my life. There have been many people in my life who have affected me in a very positive way. There have been people who have affected my life in a negative way. But the thing is, I’m the only one who seems to keep the records, or the histories of how my life has been changed. I’m the only one who seems to be standing here, holding my bags, suitcases, and the edges of my life together with both hands.

This road has been a long one.

So I keep running back to that phrase in my head: “Erase Records, Write HIStories.” If you’ve known me for any length of time, you know I’m never far from a notebook, a pen, a paper, something. Somewhere along the line, I became a natural born storyteller. And while I’ve been trying to stay positive about things. I think many of you have distanced yourself from me because I’ve been a pretty tough person to handle. And I get that. I have been wearing a shroud of sadness for a long while now and I know it. I have a string of good days, and then something sends me into a tailspin of heartache.

And the reason why is this: I have been blessed in my life to have a few great loves – but the timings never seem to have worked out, and each time one of these loves had crashed and burned, I always had a shoulder, or shoulders to proverbally cry on. This time has been different. I know many of you cannot understand what I’m going through, but it truly is that of a broken heart. A broken heart that cannot seem to heal. A broken heart that cannot seem to move past. A broken heart that keeps breaking. A broken heart that cannot seem to let go of the hope that there’s still a chance for that happy ending where I am going to turn a corner one day and that love will be standing there waiting for me….

….. To be continued.

The relevant moment in The West Wing is captured below.

One Comment Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s