Denial and Epiphany

A few years ago, I was at a church retreat playing Mafia. I normally hate Mafia because, for some reason, I never ever am selected as the Mafia. Therefore, I really try to savor the few opportunities I get to assassinate my fellow church members as they apprehensively sleep. Luckily, this was one of those few instances that I actually flipped the card to see an ace, marking my entrance into the simulated crime world.

After a few "nights" passed, however, my joy was threatened by my inept accomplice, who had attracted too much negative attention. As the accusations flew at my accomplice, I sat quietly, putting on my best poker face and looking for any hole to rescue him and continue our mission of civilian annihilation. And then, right as I was giving up hope, I heard one of the accusations fly at a new target. Without even thinking, I piggybacked on the later accusation and tried to shift the suspicious focus from my accomplice. Little did I know, it was a trap: “John, I think you’re mafia too. No one else was accusing this person until I did just now, and you agreed with me too easily right away.” In my eagerness, I had foolishly been found out.

I think one of my defining characteristics is my honesty. I lie very rarely, and if I do lie, my lies are usually more short-lived than mayflies. Of course, you can see how this could have been an issue for my parents when I began socializing as a toddler. I loved free stuff. The lessons I remember most from my childhood involve appropriate behavior in public: decline every gift or favor offered to me in any situation.

As I aged, this training evolved into other aspects of my life. Empowered by a special talent for laziness, my just-say-no campaign eventually ended up pervading my life. The phrases, “It’s okay,” “Don’t worry about it,” “It’s cool,” and “It is what it is” took firm root in my daily, perhaps even hourly, communication. What’s worse, I had told the same lie enough times that I believed it.

However, despite this suspended state of want, I still find myself being provoked so strongly by things that I didn’t think I wanted, by things I swore I did not want. I’m increasingly figuring out that no matter what my words say, I am still a fool in front of my objects of desire. When placed in front of me, the tantalization overwhelms me. I’m also finding out that regardless of how nonchalantly I feign disinterest, losing something desired on the cusp of attainment brings incredible pangs of disappointment. Sometimes it’s a girl, sometimes it’s a job, sometimes it’s a conclusion, sometimes it’s normalcy, and sometimes it’s not being found out in Mafia.

Ironically, within these moments of overwhelming enticement and disappointment, I catch very quick glimpses of my passions. It is here that I find my misplaced passions, the same passions that I have searched for since high school. More importantly, these passions manifest themselves not only as simple desires and cares, but as goals and, ultimately, ambitions. I want to be courageous enough to constantly be honest with myself. That way, I can dictate when I sneak peeks at my ambitions, and not be abruptly surprised time to time by my own self.