45. Honesty lasts shortest

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. God almighty. Sorting out endless data sheets is an endless prayer. I tried to order the chaos with good spirits. But to no avail. This creation goes beyond me. All the lost hours and energy. All the time-consuming fiddling and plodding. So many well-meant but fruitless attempts to make something out of it. At first glance, this employment seemed like a well-filled vacancy, a promising marriage. It looked like a successful fusion of supply, demand, characters and qualities. It wasn’t to be, though. Mutual expectations were not met, and our connection went with the wind. Things didn’t work out and frustrations were piling up. Something was going on. Some abnormal ‘problem’ that I tried to point out. And then it slipped through my fingers. Self-confidence was gone. Willpower was gone. I felt the tide turn against me as I kept trying. 

Then the performance review commenced. I sat down with hesitation. We got down to business after some brief chitchat. I listened to the supervisors with a loss of speech. That I’m so quiet and withdrawn. That I don’t seem to be at ease. Blocked. Insecure. Not ‘myself.’ They sincerely asked what was going on. Err… well… Now that’s hitting the nail on the head. Dataism isn’t my religion, and I don’t possess enough autistic traits for this role. High voltage broke the circuits. Thousands of words awakened the dormant volcano, and a stream of all kinds of conflicting emotions reached the surface. Ain’t no crocodile tears. It was obviously deeper than a gold mine. We were shocked. They probably assumed the worst. They gave me a glass of water and left it. Obviously, I had too much on my mind. Nothing became clearer, just more mysterious. Get back to it later. 

That’s all said and done. The half-baked outburst really bugged me. So I opened my stiffly closed lips with a keyboard. As usual, this trusty crowbar rammed the gates open. I confessed everything without any constraint. The genie was out of the bottle, and that genie was possessed by sheer wanderlust. A world trip had re-wired the housekeeping of my brain. I felt like a stranger in my own land. Reintegrating into “real life” wasn’t easy. Swimming against the current takes a lot of strength. I floundered like an exhausted fish on land, wildly gasping for deep waters and rich seas. I experienced in person that an unconventional path isn’t an impossible dream. Far from it. It makes me thrive. Risks. Flexibility and spontaneity. Just “being” everywhere and nowhere. Being in the moment as much as possible, without a grand plan. This is the code to crack in my book. This is my DNA, my love and joy, my all. Every fiber in my body missed that lifestyle and stirred up inner turmoil. This disturbance wasn’t some nostalgia for a romanticized ideal. Nah, this went much, much further.

I clicked on send. Just like that ay. Now the word was out, well-played mate. I knew damn well that this brutally honest outburst wouldn’t be the end of it. But I felt that I had nothing to hide. I just answered a question. I simply played with open cards, without ulterior motives or a higher purpose. It’s what it is, and it’s as simple as that. I would accept any consequence. Everything was taken into account: suspicion, misunderstandings, judgments, mind-games, a cold war. My temporary contract won’t be renewed – or, perhaps, even terminated. The urgent recommendation to talk to a well-known psychiatrist. Unintelligible murmurs behind the back of bewildered Wacky. Uncomfortable silences instead of open conversations. The running out of patience. The strange tension that lingered on and the impending clash about a few pennies. All of that raced through my head as I obediently did my job. Carry on just a little bit longer. You’ll be flying out of this glass cage before you know it.

I raced through Amsterdam on my Mean Machine. Just another tourist on a wildlife safari, because why not. The fresh air helped me to get things straight. Suddenly it was as clear as day. There’s no point in this anymore. It’s okay. Resign and let go. Too bad about the ‘real’ job-hunt or the educational trajectory that doesn’t educate. The urge to control is counterproductive. Returning to old grounds because ‘it should’ doesn’t work. Forcing something that doesn’t fit the nature of the beast is asking for trouble. Better get used to this ‘problem’ since it will happen over and over again. What a laughable ordeal. Such unnecessary suffering, such mindless misery. Let the train roll on. Just turn into a different path. Time is more valuable than money. The ‘real life’ isn’t an inevitable fate and work is a sideshow. Working until death might come later. Beware or be stranded in a lifeless sit-existence. Walk around treacherous quicksand with great care. I prefer customization, a natural fit that changes with one’s interests or phase in life. What matters is what fits best and feels good. Time will tell the final conclusion.

Honesty is the best policy for yourself and others; it cannot be clear enough.

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