My Parachute Is Black

I am being worked on, tinkered with, re-adjusted and re-aligned.

Seeing a shrink. Visitng Chiro man. Regular visits to Dr. Feelgood to monitor the blood pressure.

I am like an antique car that is being restored.

Got to thinking about this as I schedule, re-schedule and shuffle these visits to fit in with my joke of a work schedule.

I guess this is where you get to in life as the body begins to fail, past sins begin to catch up and the mind screams for answers.

They are concrete reminders of the ravages of age and the insecurities of the mind but I guess I am OK with it. If I want to mine the next ten years for peace, I gotta be in the right shape and the right frame of mind to do it.

Still it is a bit odd. At least for a stubborn old coot like me who despises asking for help.

Part of the reason I am mired so deep in a mud hole of insecurity and underachievement is precisely because I refuse to ask for help or advice.

Even when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I needed some kind of guidance, I would avoid it and stumble through assuming I could figure things out for myself.

A big part of the problem is the inefficiency of the professionals who are out there to help you.

Decades a go I went to a couple of career counselors. People who are supposed to asses your experience and qualifications and guide you through a career change. This was when I was pretending to be an accountant and every day consisted of spreadsheets and nightmares.

The experts I visited were condescending and ineffective. Wimpy types who were proud of their spacious offices and the wonderful fees they collected from desperate people.

I also thumbed through "What Color Is Your Parachute - A Practical Manual For Job Hunters And Career Changers", a thousand times. Proved to be an excellent sleep aid.

Dealt with many head hunters. Many. These people are the worst. You tell them what you have done and what you are looking for and they listen attentively.

Then they go ahead and do whatever they want to, regardless of your wishes.

God forbid you should try to change course even a little bit. You end up interviewing for the exact same type of job you already have because they are the easiest for the headhunter to fill.

Which provides the quickest commission.

Head hunters for temporary position are the slimiest of the slime. I visited one once and told him I would pretty much take anything except warehouse jobs. Especially warehouse jobs requiring the use of tools.

Put a tool in my hand and I sweat blood.

The first job he lined up for me was in a warehouse dismantling computers.

I took it.

I never sought out psychological help before but I read tons of stuff that I thought would help me. Including a few wimpy self-help books.

Waste of time.

I know from talking to a few people that there are a lot of counselors out there who treat patients like children. "Make a list of this, write down that, every day, blah blah blah."

What is so sad about all this is that there are entire industries built on the distress of the average Joe. Industries that market themselves as if they will focus in on your needs with laser-like accuracy and intensity to help you get the life that you want.

When their intent from ground zero is to get paid. Period.

Regardless of what you have asked for, regardless of what your concerns are, regardless of your psychological welfare.

These industries are huge because the distress of 99% of the people in the world is overwhelming. People suffering through soul crushing jobs, people who are broken and lost, bleeding and innocently looking for guidance from piranha.

Anyway......................... I am being worked on, tinkered with, re-adjusted and re-aligned.

It is all for the good. I like the shrink because he challenges me like an adult. No baby exercises, no insulting homework. Chiro man and Dr. Feelgood are forcing me to focus on my health.

Yeah I am sixty and occasionally wonder if it is worth it. Is it too late?

It would be so much easier to sit in my recliner with a bottomless tumbler of whiskey watching re-runs of Baretta.

But what I have left of my life is all I have to work with. I haven't done much with what has gone past. Might as well take at least one serious shot at actually "Doing" something with my life.

I am not giving up. Giving it a real shot.

And you can take that to the bank.