(Confessions of a Die Hard Try Hard)
By Philip Pfanstiel
April 30th, 2026
I have this problem where I’m fiercely loyal to people that have already discarded me. I’m notoriously slow on the uptake. Arguably one of my best traits.
Funny story. Now. My only ex-girlfriend was from my high school days. I was introduced to her on a mission trip on the other side of the world (why go for someone within reach when you can fail epically?). I dated her for almost 2 years. She dated me for about 2 months.
Sure, now I see it. But I was young, naive, and a hopeless romantic. The third time she broke up with me, I wrote her a 26-page letter. Poured out my heart, and made clear that I saw a bright future for us. May have definitely been a tad judgy. Okay, very judgy but my intentions were good. I remember writing “I still think Mrs. ____ Pfanstiel sounds really good.” Even planned to visit her as she was in the states for college.
About a week later I got a postcard.
“Don’t come I won’t receive you.”
“Don’t call, I’ll hang up.”
And two more lines carrying the theme forward. Poetic really. And effective.
Now this is funny. I’ll have to work that into a story one day … when the puree that was my heart finally reconstitutes.
Definitely cheaper than the paperwork that came with the divorce a couple decades later. Same message, different messenger, much more boilerplate.
I told you I like to go down with the ship. It’s what good deck hands do … right?
As everything I built and tried to steer took a nosedive into the abyss on that bright September 2nd morning in 2016 I had this sudden urge to take a similar dive … but off the upper level of a parking garage.
Hence “Postcards from the Ledge.”
My Border Collie personality refuses to quit and reject others, but I’m starting to be quicker to accept the rejection. And by quicker, now it only takes me a decade or 100k. Don’t get me started on the recent business relationship that did an extremely slow implosion. Getting hit sideways with postcards and parking garage ledges does have its silver lining.
News hit me this week that was not unexpected (I’m starting to notice trends) but disappointing, nonetheless. I’ve tried to lead a life of no regrets. I don’t like being the one left hanging on, but I refuse to be the one who lets go. Makes me great at rope courses or climbing walls, but not so good at recognizing yellow and red flags. Must be a parade … for me!!!
Still processing the letdown this week, but … well, did anyone else know that Ed McMahan died in 2009? I’ve been sending orders to Publisher’s Clearinghouse expecting at any moment to receive a million-dollar check from a jolly elderly man at my door.
The stages of grief … what comes after denial and anger?
Today my daughter Anna and I ran some errands before work. While traveling around Sapulpa and eating lunch at the only Ken’s Pizza in the Tulsa mini-plex I went on a nostalgic journey. Recounted the postcard story. Breaking the lens of a borrowed camera (because I was trying too hard to figure it out) during the two months both my ex and I were actually dating. The “why pay for the cow when the milk is free” misfire. Did I tell you I was a pretentious prick?
Sorry. Yes, I said was. Why did you ask?
Recounted other stories. Most of them are funny now. The only one that still hurts is the one where I didn’t step up to help when asked and let go too soon – one of my biggest regrets. Remembering the past and how God has brought one through the heartaches, failures, and misfires helps.
Anna was a good listener and sport. True, she was on the clock. I didn’t raise no dummy.
When I got home the grief timer moved to anger. Was going to self-medicate as most humans do when they feel rejected, alone, unwanted, and someone no one will fight for. We each have our own way of self-medicating. Mine just happens to be Instagram. Brutal honesty, there’s nothing quite as compelling as a good conspiracy video.
Surprises me. I didn’t even know those were on Instagram. Who knew?
But before I went down another rabbit hole, I got brutally honest with God.
Won’t do the blow-by-blow but the conclusion is that while others reject me, my biggest disappointment and source of hurt is that I feel that I’m not a priority to God. Unimportant. Unwanted. The Cheers theme music starts to play in reverse.
Yes, yes, I know the pat answer; God never leaves us or forsakes us. Given that speech and pep talk hundreds of times. But if you’ve never felt forsaken or unimportant to God, then have you really lived?
I lived a lifetime today. Fun stuff.
Tempted to look up the next stage of grief. But I’ll just let it surprise me. I still can’t believe Ed McMahon is dead. Next, you’re going to say McMahon worked for American Family Publishers and not Publishers Clearinghouse. Have you no shame!?
***
Haven’t really landed. This blog is my attempt to fast-forward the pain to the part where I can laugh about it.
In the meantime, I’ll just remind myself of the times God did fight for me. The people (my parents and friend Bob) who kept me from giving the pavement a violent hug. Those who do accept me. The plethora of people who could have rejected me but welcomed me instead. And being wanted?
Well, tearing warning notices off mattresses is a story for another day.
This song Choker, by Twenty One Pilots, had more relevance to an earlier draft and still kind of applies. If you are a try hard like me, it may help you to let go of trying to fulfill other expectations to fit it. Instead, be yourself. Stop hiding. Those who you find by your side are the mighty men and women who accept you and will work with you to accomplish mighty things for God. You don’t need to reject others, just be yourself and let the self-sorting commence.