There is always someone better than I am.
I’ve believed it for as long as I can remember. It is an – perhaps even the – essential part of me. It’s the thought that has shaped every single part of my life.
Sometimes it’s for better. I’m humble. Obviously. It’s hard to be arrogant when there’s always someone better. I’m other-aware, which makes me a great community member. Resilient, since why wouldn’t I get a little grit in the gears from time to time? I often take one for the team, and usually don’t stop at one.
Sometimes, though, it’s for worse.
During our marriage, my wife threatened me with divorce more than once. Of course she did. There’s someone better out there. She might have said it to spark a reaction from me, to inspire me to fight for our marriage. But I accept my fate easily. I’m not deserving of good things, not because I’m a terrible person or lacking in something specific, but simply because there’s always a better option somewhere. Why shouldn’t she get that good thing instead of settling for me? In fact, it was really just a matter of time before she realizes she can do better, so I spent plenty of time waiting for that other shoe to dropkick my ass to the curb.
I do go gently into that good night. I only rarely make much of a fuss, because I understand that I’m second best. I may deserve something, but I don’t deserve the best. So I settle, and I’m content in doing so. It is what I expect. It is my lot in life.
There are many worse things than to expect less from life. Every day people go to bed hungry, or beaten bloody, or with the knowledge they are sick and will never get better. The cross I bear is much lighter than the pain borne by parents who bury a child or the drunk driver with blood on his hands. I don’t crave sympathy, because I don’t deserve it. There are, after all, people who have it much worse than I do. I don’t even get the best of the worst.
But it’s still a waste. I am often lonely when I don’t have to be. I defer when there’s no need to do so. I self-impose decisions about my worthiness that others never make.
“To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.” So said the fully-confident Steve Prefontaine. I give my best, but I’m not convinced it’s the best that can be given. And that may be true at times, most of the time even. But sometimes – and in one specific instance at least – it’s not true.
I hope to prove that by writing. The thing about art – really anything creative – is that only I can make the art that I make. And maybe that will show me that I can be the best at something. There’s no one else who can do this particular thing better, because there’s no one else who can do it at all. I am a population of one, as is every other artist out there.
So in this at least – this art, this written word – I am guaranteed to finish first. When you’re the only one on the course the only thing that can keep you from being first is not finishing at all. And I generally do give my best, so finishing is within my grasp. And maybe that will lead to more confidence, more belief that I can hold my own when I’m not the only one in the ring.
Or so I hope.