In a casual conversation recently, my father had expressed a sense of guilt over the way he had handled certain things when I was a child. From bits and pieces of the conversation, I was able to extract the idea of being spanked for doing "bad" things - for example, accidentally spilling a drink, or not understanding what he was trying to say to me. I don't clearly remember these things. I don't even know if he is justified in feeling so guilty. I just have to assume a big part of it is an exaggerated, fatherly sense of protection.
If it's true that he really did punish me for common mistakes that every child makes, I don't blame him for anything. I never did. But after thinking about the things he mentioned after all these years, suddenly my life started making a bit more sense.
For as long as I can remember, I've been, in a sense, a perfectionist. Minor flaws upset me. Seemingly insignificant issues get under my skin. I let myself down every time I screw up; every time I don't know something; every time I make a mess; every time I show off my clumsiness to the world. I disappoint myself every time I think of the amazing people out there who have taken one life and done something to help this stunted world... knowing that there is no reason I shouldn't have done the same with my life. One person, no matter their origin, can truly make a difference in this world.
I am an extremely frustrated person. My frustration lies in my disappointment with the world around me. It mostly lies with myself. I feel responsible for each and every heinous aspect of this world. I could have done more to prevent it. I could have stepped up and done something about it. I know it sounds unreasonable, but I feel responsible for the world being as it is today.
This world is a sad place, so I try my hardest to look beyond it to the next. Our future is blurred, then clear, then blurred again.
My vision is not what it once was.