I knew exactly what I wanted to call this post. I drew up a new document. And typed the word.
Demons. We all have them. I’m listening to The Bourne Ultimatum’s “Extreme Ways.” I remember listening to it after paying off a huge bill that took me two years to pay off. I never expected to be barely worth the first payment.
Can you imagine a young child, say… five or six years old having trouble with his or her vision and his or her parents getting him or her therapy for said vision trouble? Can you imagine the help it’d be to the kid? Can you imagine the amount of convincing that kid would need to believe his or her parents that the therapy was worth it?
Can you imagine that same kid getting the therapy for the first time right as he’s working a part-time job, scraping money together for college?
I’m the second kid.
I’m a nice guy, so I offered to pay the whole bill. Two years later. It all fell apart.
Sure, I have spells where I think it was the worst thing in the world to have lost thousands of dollars for therapy which I was told the difference made by said therapy would be too subtle to notice.
But then I know the whole experience taught me something invaluable – financial integrity. If I wasn’t careful with my money before… I am now.
I don’t do the therapy they urged me to continue after I finished the therapy two years ago. I paid the bill. And I was out.
Now whenever I hear “Extreme Ways” from the Jason Bourne trilogy, my writerly self likes to liken my case to his case.
Yeah, I wasn’t being shot at, I wasn’t a supposed threat to any lives, I wasn’t constantly on the run (well…). But I was constantly on the run.
The first paycheck of every month was sent off on the fifteenth of twenty-four months of my life. My entire paycheck was shipped off to pay for therapy I don’t believe to be useful to a guy like me.
No one listened to me when I said I wanted out. They thought I would have wasted the money. And they wouldn’t believe me that I believed I would be wasting all the more money by continuing the therapy.
And I was a part of that therapy office. I was in their system, anyway. I wasn’t rid of them until I was done chucking one of my two meager paychecks.
What’s done is done now. The money’s been paid and due to the financial situation I was in before it all began and now being in college (which they said the therapy would help with [okay… how long after college starts?]) I haven’t peaked over four digits to the left of that decimal point.
It’s heartache. But no rainbows came without rain. No one’s food ever came without the death of something else. No salvation ever was offered without death first.
Just gotta keep moving forward.
And besides, it’s all novel fodder.
Yeah, it’s like being Jason Bourne or some other cool spy guy.
But the sad part about being like the cool guys in the movies or in the books is that they’re only cool because they rise above suffering. So, one has to undergo suffering to even consider themselves like unto their cinematic counterparts.
Whatever you’re going through… it’s molding you, chipping away at you, editing away at you to get to the best stuff.
Tony Stark had to be the jerk he was in order to transform into the hero he was.