There are moments I doubt. Moments where I stop believing just long enough to hurt.
I’m not talking religion or faith or in humanity. This doubt is mine.
It’s the doubt I’ve done something wrong. Think of it like a Lego with pieces left over at the end. I can’t help thinking that I stuffed it up. I’ll go over everything ten times to make sure it’s correct and those pieces left over at the end are just the spares.
The problem is, life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Life isn’t neat and tidy and easy to construct. Life is the dark city streets. Some paths are safe, some are not, and it’s so very easy to get lost in the dark. Some of those streets look perfectly fine and it’s not till you are halfway down them you realise just how big a mess you walked yourself into.
Life can get very messy and it’s not always your fault. Life is learning to knit a sweater when all you’ve been taught is how to knit the first row. You are going to drop stitches, you are going to stuff it up, but you keep knitting and hope you don’t end up with any obvious holes. Honestly, I have some big gapping holes in the tapestry of my life.
Sometimes things really go wrong and you end up so knotted up that all you can do is cut the thread, untangle what is left of the yarn, and start all over again. You get left with loose threads. If you are good, you can hide these threads, pretend they don’t exist. But they always work their way back out. You have this constant fear that one tiny tug on those threads will pull your entire world apart, so you are very careful about tucking them away.
Not everyone has dropped stitches, or tangles, or loose threads. Not everyone looks around them and wonders about those extra pieces. But, most of us have a least one of these, even if we pretend we don’t.
Doubt. Doubt is when we become paranoid about someone spotting our mistakes. Doubt is when we fear someone grabbing that loose thread and giving it a tug, out of curiosity or maliciousness, it doesn’t matter because the outcome is the same. Doubt is looking in the mirror and not being able to force that smile anymore. Because even though doubt didn’t do the deed, it opened the door to your downfall.
I doubt. Not often. Enough. Sometimes it wins and I hide away in fear. Most times, I slap its hands away, count the spare pieces as the blessing that they are. A way to replace a piece that goes missing, or add more detail. I look at those dropped stitches and admire that I got this far with only those small patches of fuck up.
Today, I doubt. Tomorrow, I’ll get through it and smile.
That is life.