Questioning who I am and what I want

I’m always questioning who I am and what I want.  Conversely, I’m always wondering why other people never seem to question who they are and what they want.  Asking who I am and what I want depresses me.  I have no idea who I am and what it is that I really want.

During any given day, my head swirls with questions  such as:

-Am I a bad person when I purposely ignore a member of the bridge club who smells like piss and rolls his eyes around like he’s having an epileptic fit?

-Do my grandkids find me disgusting when I distract them from their video games while attempting to get them to say ‘hello’?

-Am I going straight to hell when I die because I always pick on my 88 year-old mother?  (Just to fill you in about our relationship, I should mention that she’s lived with me for two years because several years ago, she told me she lost the will to live and needed to move in with me in order to be able to go on with her life.  I should also mention that she spends ten hours a day watching the Catholic Television Station, EWTN, at full blast volume because she’s so deaf.)

-Am I an uncaring, insensitive husband because I can’t help but get mad at my wife when she insists on going to the 99 cent store every time we go out to eat or to a movie or to visit the kids or to the bank or to Starbucks or to anywhere else that doesn’t actually require some really cheap shit from the 99 cent store in order to enjoy the primary event?

-Am I a horrible human being because I get really pissed off at all the mentally challenged homeless people who scream obscenities at me while taking my daily walk through the park, the wetlands, or along the beach, the spots where they hang out all day long waiting for people to walk by so they can stare at them and yell at them and tell them they’re going to starve to death if they don’t give them any money?

Questioning who I am and what I want makes me feel like I’m doomed by my deficiencies.  At the end of the day, I usually find myself craving a couple of beers or several glasses of wine.  I never find a need to drink early in the day, but by the end of the day, I’m dying for some alcohol.  Alcohol allows me to love myself and everybody else.  Alcohol allows me to think that everybody, including myself, is just fine.

Oh shit!  Am I an alcoholic?

Who cares!  After drinking a couple of beers, I feel amazing.





4 thoughts on “Questioning who I am and what I want

  1. Strangely, as a 30-year-old-woman equally interested in who I am and what I want, I find your stories inspiring. Is that the right word? Maybe more like appealing. Yes, I find your writing appealing because you’ve lived a life vastly different than mine ( and perhaps vastly longer! 😉 ) and I like nothing more than learning what’s behind the curtain of people’s lives. I found you on blog, another soul-seeker.

    Are you an alcoholic? Maybe my post, written at age 30, will help you think about this:


  2. This may sound crazy, but I don’t know who I am. Weirdly enough, I know exactly who I am not. For instance, I think of myself as not young rather than believing that I’m old. Call it delusional because it is totally delusional and who the hell can survive without delusion? I mean, does anyone actually want to walk around all day thinking they’re old or functionally alcoholic or have a limp dick or any other deficiency that gives other people ammunition to give them a lot of shit? Nonetheless, despite my delusional state of mind, I still keep questioning who I am and who I am not and the more I do it, the more it pisses me off that most people don’t spend any time doing this. Most people just seem to lock in this opinion of who they are and who everybody else is and go about their day playing out their total misinterpretation of life as they misinterpret it. So, yeah, I just have one question before we move this discussion forward? Are you really interested in this stupid blog or are you more interested in me reading your blog? As an unimportant man, who used to be important, I can’t help but ask you this very annoying question even though it makes me feel like shit to ask it. Oh yeah, and no matter what your answer, I do plan to read your blog because you’re the first person to take the time to respond to my bullshit and it makes me feel a little bit less unimportant that you have shown an interest in me no matter what your motivation, and for that, I thank you.


  3. The question is: Are am I really interested in this stupid blog or am I more interested in you reading my blog?

    Obviously a little of both. But if the last-mentioned outweighed the other, the question becomes: Why would I be so interested in such an unimportant man reading my blog?

    Keep telling your story, I think you’ll learn who you are through writing. As will I.

    Any pointers?


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