Recently I found myself torn between one decision and another.

One: easy, but, frankly, shameful. Especially now.

The other: more complicated. It would have consequences and it would have risk.

Fuck it.

I'm never again letting a goddamn soul on god's green earth fuck with me 'till I'm breathing my last breath, buried underground, or generally screwed and institutionalized.

These choices have been rearing their exigent heads for four decades. They started when I was a kid. They continued into my teens. They kept going into my twenties. They occurred again in my thirties. And they're still happening now, in my forties.

There are just too many goddamn assholes on this little planet for this shit not to happen and demand of you either (1) placating obeisance or (2) firm, decisive - and if needed - combative, consequential action.

Maybe not like Iraq-combat and maybe not like the Canadian-navy-combat (go stoney), but instead, the kind of combat that happens day-in and day-out - to every tom, dick, and harry - and the kind of combat that can dictate whether you go to bed feeling like a panzy-ass douchebag or a man of strength and conviction.

I took action. I struck first.

When I was diagnosed with "my little issue," I was extremely fearful of my personal challenges being sniffed out and discovered. I felt like I had a lot on the line and recognized that it could be damaging to my companies, my career, and my livelihood. It was made more scary when not too long after, Steve Jobs died.

While I'm not Steve Jobs to the universe, I am - in my little world - Steve Jobs' fucking boss.

(After all, each of us are the center of our own worlds, the master of our own universe, and, frankly, who gives a fuck about a shiny phone anyway.)

That fear - since MRP is talking about fear a lot lately - stalked me and burdened me and gave me something more to endure - as though I needed more - to add to the steaming pile of shit that was already being spoon-fed to me after the news I'd just received - and it was being spoon-fed every goddamn, mother-fucking day.

Fuck it.

I'd clearly conditioned myself to be fearful of anyone who could be - or might be - or would be - or was - in a position to know my little secret - and even worse - to use it against me. Like, you imagine and perhaps know your wife can use your weakest moment of truth against you.

Hell, I'd even let myself buckle in a lawsuit because of it. In the beginning.

God damn.

Granted, I had been sick. Real sick. At that time, I could have been dead any day.

After all, competition never ends and in the real world, nobody is "honoring" you anyway.

It's dog-eat-dog, mother-fuckers, and you better butch up to that if you want to get where you're going.

That said, I should have never capitulated, even if briefly, and I should never have given any fucker on this planet that kind of power over me.

(They didn't even know the power they wielded. It was largely in my head. )

That conditioning - my pernicious foe - like an insidious monster, had burrowed its way through my very being and had clearly fucking weakened me.

This time, not too long ago, under equally scary, risky circumstances - titan v. titan if you will - I chose to strike first.

And strike I did, details irrelevant.

The point of this little post is this:

Do not let anyone ever fuck with you again.

Seriously.

What you believe you risk is returned a-thousand-fold by what you gain, no matter the outcome.

Your risk is imagined (though possibly true), while:

  • The courage of your convictions…
  • Your self-respect…
  • Your dignity…
  • And simply your ability to continue waking up and going to sleep - feeling like a man…

… well, they're all real. And I know this from experience. And I assure you it's the truth.

  • Be strong.
  • Be bold.
  • Hit your foe first.
  • Hit him where it hurts.
  • And hit him hard.
  • But most importantly, don't ever back down, even if you're weak inside.

You do that each and every time you face true adversity and it will have no choice but to seep into your day-to-day life with the little missus. That behavior is magnified by 100.

Because, after all, you're a titan. She may not know it yet. You may not know it yet. But soon, you will.

p.s. This dude got me thinking about fear, initiative, action, and consequence, and he inspired me to post.

p.p.s. Important postscript. I was thinking about this post wondering why I'd come up with it, why'd I posted. Was I simply peacocking? Look, it's the dude who beat death again, look at him go. So tough.

No. I now introspectively recognize that a few times in my life, exactly and oddly correlating with my lifespan at once-per-decade - so four fucking times - I have been wronged. Hugely wronged.

But that is not the crux of the matter.

That I did not fight back and fight back hard, well, that is the issue. And it can stick inside like you some insidious creature devouring your innards though more cunningly chasing your soul. And - perhaps a bit dramatic - it has.

So don't fucking let that happen.

  • Get your ass beaten, but kneel before no one.
  • Lose your shirt in court, but don't kowtow to your wife.
  • Close your business, but don't sell your soul to the devil.

Does this mean to be risky, irresponsible, or stupid?

Fuck no.

But it does mean this: when you've lost it all - in my experience - the only thing left to cling to is your dignity and your self-respect. I used to watch those prison shows and their silliness about "respect" was just that: silliness. But when it comes to self-respect, it's the real deal.

You don't ever want to wake up and realize that while you had lost everything, you've also lost your self-respect. There is no more fallow feeling than that.

Choose pride, choose integrity, choose self-respect.

Always.

No failure, no financial problem, no fucking nothing has hurt me like losing sight of my pride, my integrity, and my self-respect.