I really have to quit fucking around online. I really have to stop playing online chess when I should be writing. I really have to get to bed earlier. I really have to get better sleep. No, I mean I really have to get better sleep. No, I mean I really really really have to get better sleep. I ‘ve mentioned my stint as my mom’s caregiver while she succombed to cancer. I can’t tell you how hard that was. I was sick of it after a month. I was fed up after three months. I was really fed up after 8 months. I was really really really really really fed up after a year. I was really really really really really — how big is Graham’s number again? after two years. And it kept getting worse.
At what point was I going to “have enough” and just split? After mom called the cops on me and told them to make me leave? That should have done it, but no: Next day she wanted me back, my siblings prevailed upon her to reconsider since then they would have to do more, and so I stayed. After she damaged my car. After literally hundreds of other incidents, and one of which should have been sufficient. At what point was I going to call the housing authorities about the shit my evil landlord pulled? (‘sup Thomas) After he insisted on keeping the place illegally cold? After I caught him point blank lying to another of his tenants about whether he owned that property or not? At what point should I have really had enough and done something?
We have this myth in our society that a certain level of bullshit has to be reached before acting. Some of us have that meter set way too high. Some of you may have it set too low. This is not about what the right amount is — rather it’s that you know what the right amount is. For pretty much any situation you are in, you know what’s the right amount of tolerance you should have. For your own bad habits and those of other people. You really have to stop downloading so much porn. You really have to stop letting Short Mike punk your lighters (if you know him, look around — he will literally have a container of some kind filled with lighters he’s punked). You really have to remember to put ice in the bong next time. You really have to . . . and on it goes.
You have to determine how much you tolerate, or how bad you allow things to get before acting. I really have to sell my big trailer. Because soon it will be too hot to sleep in it anyway and I will really really have to sell it. And then my time at the RV place will be up and then I will really really really really have to sell it. You know that pattern. I live that pattern. I don’t make changes, I just keep adding reallys. For decades, literally, I have said about many things, I really really really really . . . That is bullshit. If you have to do something, then go do that thing. If you have failed, find another way. Telling yourself things is just another defence against change. Saying “I know” is another one. Saying “You’re right” is another one. I have added reallys until I collapsed under the weight of them. Don’t do that. Go do that thing today if possible or make a solid plan. Whatever you do, stop adding reallys. You will either explode and there will be an Incident or you will break apart inside. Maybe both. Once you have realized something, take action. Right away. Yes, really.