Blowing in the wind

            How many times, the song asks, must a man look up before they call him a man?  I've never really understood what they were talking about until today.  They want the man to think himself less and look up to another person for permission to feel like a human again.

            Everything we do, in the eyes of some people, is watched and measured and scrutinized until we can hear the gears grinding in the mind of our tormentor.  This person could be a family member, boss, supposed friend, coworker, etc.  Either way, they are a generally selfish person and want to look good no matter how we look or feel.  Perhaps it is desperation which causes them to act this way.  Maybe they are falling and we are rising, and they want to salvage what they have by making us look bad... or perhaps they want to ride our coat-tails, or take credit for the efforts of others so their own demons will leave them alone for the day.  So, the tormentor gathers the data and finds something to complain about, and we wonder: how many days do we have to beat ourselves up over this?

            We do well at X, they complain we have not been doing Y.  Okay, we spend a whole day, at their request, doing Y.  Good, right?  No, now you aren't doing enough Z, and you aren't allowed to do X... which was a task, but is now being billed as a privilege.  My head is spinning, and believe me, when you add in the proper words for what's going on instead of letters, it doesn't make any more sense than that. 

            Who am I, and who do I work for? 

            Only I can decide the answer to this question.  I know who I am, and I am no longer a person who will work until I drop.  I cannot make myself sick, nor can I constantly apologize for having human limitations.  I have evaluated what I do and what its true worth is.  And I work for myself and those I love.  If Becca needs me, I am there.  I make money to keep her safe and well and fed, to keep me fed and healthy and sane, to give me enough gas to play frisbee and travel for the work I do and to transport Becca.  Period.  I am no longer going to pretend that I am doing this for anything other than those reasons. 

            I don't need to look up anymore, because I am seeing the tormentor eye to eye now, seeing the spade for the spade they truly are.  Take a deep breath, spade, because I'm about to knock the wind out of you, and not apologize for it.  You can have me on your team, helping you, fighting beside you, working toward a common goal and making a sizeable dent in the problem at hand.  Or, you can treat me this way, and watch me and all of my skills walk away from you.  I'm not afraid of you... or failure.  Because I've done just enough to learn that I can make it on my own. 

            How many times?  Just this one last time.