Setbacks and Disappointments

I call the incidents of large floaters breaking loose in my eye "setbacks." That is a gross understatement. Each could have stopped me dead in the tracks of whatever I was trying to achieve at the moment, and for that day or week or month. The first setback in November 2010 did just that. I let it. I reverted to the state of blood obstructed vision from the original vitreous hemorrhage. I sat in the recliner day by day, listening to the TV.
The February 2011 release caused more stress. The winter had been rough in regards to maintaining my responsibilities. Three apartments had emptied. I was not up to the work of rehab. A quick job such as upgrading window blinds became next to impossible. I couldn’t see up close even when things were clearer, thanks to Doctor Negrey’s decision to install a cataract lense that killed my close vision.
In 2003 I had single handedly turned over six apartments in one month. This time it took nine months to turn over three. Getting help proved difficult. Friends with good intentions made promises out of pity. Some made it worse when they realized they didn’t really want to help. They became too embarrassed about their second thoughts to even call to cancel. In some cases, waiting for the promised dat of help then waiting around all day for someone with no intention of actually showing up wasted weeks.
I ca be a pretty difficult guy in a lot of ways. I’m strong and cocksure. I fought since adolescence for self control and self sufficiency. I’m not arrogant–I do not believe myself better than anyone else, just equally good as anyone else, better at some things, worse at others. Cocky, yes. Arrogant, no. But a lot of people can see that distinction about as well as I can see the directions on the back of an aspirin bottle.
I was never big on relying on other people and the multiple disappointments with multiple people I am genuinely fond of did lead to emotional shut down. I’m prone to those. In some ways the lifelong fight for self sufficiency was too successful. Failed results when reaching out to or relying on others kicks me back to cold and fierce independence.
I’m struggling to accept that those lifelong default modes just won’t work well anymore. Each helping hand I push away usually leads to another stumble over a curb or down the stairs.
Parents, teachers and mentors found my strength of will banes of their existence. People always found my infamous "don’t care, don’t need anyone" attitude abrasive.
That cocksure strength prompts me to call these massive regressions and relapses "setbacks." I recover from each less completely. To apply a more serious label for them will only speed my loss of self control, a loss that seems inevitable at this point.
But I won’t let it happen any faster than nature rips it away..