Stoicism to The Rescue

For some reason, the scene in “The Princess Bride” when Fezzik finds Inigo Montoya back at the beginning keeps playing over and over in my head.  Lately, I’ve felt much like Inigo Montoya in that scene – drunk, hopeless, and looking for answers.  It is true, I am not a Spaniard bent on revenge, but there is identification with the feelings.

One might think, “why does this middleclass person feel this way when he has no real problems?”  I have been graced one-thousand times over with health, love, and security.  My biggest problem is my reaction to life’s little indignities.  People drive me fucking insane, but it isn’t them.  My reaction to people is the problem, and is tied to my own unhappiness.  Rather than make the best of my rutty lifestyle, I struggle to accept that I can’t change it.  My inability to get what I want when I want it really pisses me off.  People are the embodiment of this mental struggle, and as such, are held in low regard.

I should be happy to have a secure, well paid, job, but instead I resent the fact that I am easily replaced and of no particular consequence.  I’ve lost sight of how I add value to the world.  If I truly do not add value, it means I work very hard, and get really stressed out over nothing.  Perhaps life has been viewed with the wrong lens lately.  Rather than lament a hopeless situation, it might make sense to recognize that this is the only situation available to me at the moment. 

A stoic would conduct an exercise in negative visualization.  I could be a homeless drug addict: worried about getting my next meal; bathing rarely; accepting horrible conditions and almost any indignity just to get a fix, just to escape unchecked psychic pain.  What would a person in this situation think of my little pity party?  What would he say if he heard me complain about people at work?  How would he react to the idea that my appliances keep breaking, or that my basement was invaded by a small amount of water during the hurricane?  Would he empathize with the fact that my neighborhood isn’t littered with other middleclass families that look like us and act like us?  Would he care that I let self-centered fear keep me from forming meaningful friendships?

I know how I would react.  I would tell me to shut the fuck up.  I would tell me that I’m lucky to have the problems I do; to have a loving family; to have a good career; to have a house, and cars, and phones, and computers.  I would ask me if I would like using a pay phone anytime I needed to make a call.  Would I enjoy moving to a new town each time I developed a reputation with the law?  Would sleeping on the ground appeal to me?  What about begging, would that be on my list of to-dos?

I’ve been so caught up looking at my life as a hoax that I forgot it is the only life I have.  A stoic would remind me to improve things that are within my control; he would remind me that I have a responsibility to better my current situation, whatever that may be; he would remind me that I have a duty to apply all of my energy toward realizing my full potential.  My potential is mine alone, and should not be compared to others.  Self pity has no place here, and strong feelings are to be used as a tool to move forward.