Category: friendship

Deflection

Saw this on my FB feed today.
“Nobody grinds harder than the man who’s tasted failure, pain, rejection, loss, disrespect, loneliness, and heartbreak at a young age.
Use all the pain as fuel.”
Author unknown.

I was at a function recently and was presented with an award by my peers. It was an amazing gesture of thanks for an event that I had sponsored for a distressed brother. I was honored, but visibly uncomfortable with the public accolades. After the dust had settled, I was talking to a Brother whom I respect greatly. He said, “It’s okay to be recognized, Bill. You do a lot for people.”
I replied that I don’t do things for acknowledgment, I do them because I can.
“It’s because you’ve been through some shit, and you know how it is to be down.”I suppose it’s true. My past comes through when an opportunity to help someone arises.

I know how this sounds. As I write this, I am painfully aware that I am opening myself up to charges of hubris. I swear on all that matters to me that I am not about that. I have reached a unique point in my life. I am really not about me anymore. I like my life as it is, but I’ve gone as far as I can. I’m in a acceptable rut. I have my routine and the things that make me happy. The rest of my time is for my fellow man.

My old life was marked by constant errors in judgment, poor decisions, and struggles in interpersonal relationships. Then came the illness. At the culmination of my illness, I hit the ultimate place of learning: Rock Bottom. From the depths of that pit, I experienced despair and loneliness. I felt hopelessness, dependency, and isolation. I also faced failure, pain, and rejection. The loss and heartbreak were overwhelming. The prospect of an early conclusion to an unfulfilled life terrified me.

My friend Eric recently started dialysis. He told me, “Situations such as this reveal to you who your friends really are.” That resonated with me profoundly. While I did have some very solid support while sick, I dealt with my situation mostly alone. I learned some hard life lessons. I discovered a great deal about who I was. I also realized what I wanted out of life. I vowed that if I were to get better, I would do better. In particular, to channel my own experiences to help others.
Then I got better.

For a few years, I talked about my experience. Maybe too much. I was so happy to be on the right side of the dirt. I shared my story with anyone who wanted to hear it. I believe that everyone has something to offer. Different perspectives inspire new attitudes. Sometimes it only takes a reminder that, no matter how bad you have it, someone has it worse. I utilize the charitable nature of Freemasonry as a tool to help people. Masonic charity is true charity; often done anonymously, and always done without expectation of accolades or anything in return.

Now, in this phase of life, I rarely even talk about my illness. I’m not the sick guy anymore. But I walk with all of the memories of him. The lessons of my past life have changed my perspective. When someone catches my attention, my mind turns to the adage “Be kind. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” It keeps me grounded. It’s what causes me to deflect compliments and accolades.

My oldest daughter wrote the following in my Birthday card in July. “Dad, you are the most selfless person I know.” I have been very clear in stating that I don’t like or need compliments. But that one I’ll take as fuel to grind even harder.

The very bad day

In keeping with yesterday’s post’s theme, I have to say something. Yesterday was not my best round of golf.

It started with a text from my youngest daughter. Our relationship is very complex at the moment. Several dynamics are at play. She is estranged from her mother. The whole situation has caused a lot of strife in the family. My ex-wife seems to think that I can somehow influence my daughter to change her mind. I would never do that to her. It isn’t up to me to change her mind. For what it’s worth, I have never blamed her for cutting off her mother. I know their relationship well, and I understand and appreciate her perspective. I absolutely want them to work it out, but not at the compromise of my daughter’s mental health. I am in the middle. Trying to save my family.

My support of my daughter has strained my relationship with my ex-wife. Still, I have tried to be there in every way for my daughter. Lately, it seems that she also has a problem with me. Frankly, I don’t know what to do about it. Boundaries are vital to her and her mental health. I do my best to honor them, yet I seem to violate them anyway. Friday morning, in a text conversation, she revealed hostility about something that I apparently did. My first reaction was to lash out, and I chose to disengage and think it through. It worked out, or so I thought, and we had a civil conversation later. I even told her that she had a valid point. I try to be an adult after all. I thought it was over and we were good. Until the next day, when she began a text conversation by railing against our President. I carefully replied that I know she and I have differing opinions on the man. I thought I did the right thing. She became very agitated. She started blowing up my phone with comments. She was furious and done with me over it. Didn’t I disengage?

I know why she hates the man. She is gay and she, rightly, hates him for his anti-LGBTQ opinions. I get it. She accused me of calling it “politics”, as if I don’t know it is a personal thing to her. Of course, I understand it, I just don’t want to engage in heated arguments over a US President. With anyone, not just her. I was, and still am, very upset with how she treated me. I feel insulted and very minimized as a father. The urge to challenge her is there, but I really don’t want to make it worse. But, as a man who values accountability, I don’t want to just forgive the disrespect either. I feel that I have been very amenable to her boundaries. But what about mine? Am I expected to allow myself to be treated like that? I really don’t know what to do. I’m sad and I’m hurt. I love her so much and really want her in my life. I wish I knew what to do.
In alignment with the Golf metaphor, this round was a rain-out.

Yesterday, I was dealing with all of the thoughts above. During this time, I went to an event held by the Shriners with my oldest daughter and granddaughter. It was there that an opportunity came up. I had the chance to address a Brother Mason I know has been publicly disrespecting a friend of mine. I confronted him. I don’t feel bad; he is not a good man. I laid into him without raising my voice and presented consequences. It was effective. In golf, it was a good swing. I silenced a bad person and did it in a way that won’t come back to me.

Then, I went food shopping. It was an uneventful, if not chaotic, shopping experience. But I managed to get through it. Until the parking lot. Putting my cart away, I almost got backed into by a car backing out of a space. Without considering if I was at fault, by not paying proper attention, I called him out. He mouthed off to me, and we had a verbal exchange. It was pretty harmless, but I’m not proud of how I acted. I’m sure he’s not thinking about it. But I wish there were some way that I could tell him that I’m sorry. It’s just not who I am.
For that, I wish I had a Mulligan.

With the exception of confronting a bad man to defend a good one, I wish I could have a Mulligan for the whole damn day.

Mulligan

I love Golf. It’s a wonderful outdoor activity. It’s good exercise. It’s challenging both mentally and physically. It involves dexterity, precision, and muscle memory. It’s also maddening. Don’t let the Pros on TV fool you. There is nothing harder than to hit a little white ball straight and far. If that isn’t challenging enough, there are obstacles of sand, water and trees to make it more interesting. It’s an unforgiving game in many ways.
Just like life itself.

The key to Golf, unless you’re a professional or in training, is to not take it too seriously. Golf is like sex, you have to do it a lot to be good at it. But people who don’t have sex often still want to be good at it, and the same applies to Golf. There are those who are great at it but don’t take it too seriously. And then there are those who suck and get angry when they reveal said fact. And then there’s everyone in between. The happiest golfer plays to their strengths. They know their limitations. They break down their game into 3 categories. Good swings, bad swings, and Mulligans.

I don’t have to explain the good swing in detail. It’s the one that went where the player wanted it to. It’s the one that makes you come back. Even if the day was otherwise full of bad swings. Bad swings are the ones that don’t live up to our plan. It was either a miss, a slice, a shank, or a dribbler. They are maddening. Sometimes they require a “Mulligan.”

A “Mulligan” is a free swing. A do over. It’s named after a real person. He made a bad shot, and his peers deemed that he could hit it again. While it is not allowed in professional play, the regular “duffer”, or hack player, often utilizes one or more during a round. If the challenges and intricacies of Golf are a metaphor for life, that’s an interesting twist. Golf, unlike life, occasionally allows you a do-over.

I have embraced the Mulligan in life. I have been mercilessly unforgiving of myself for most of my life. I hold myself to a standard that nobody can achieve and the beatings I give myself are also on a next level. But occasionally I think about playing a round with my Son on a beautiful summer day. We’re out playing for the camaraderie. We’re playing to escape the daily grind. We’re only being slightly competitive; mostly, we’re trying to just enjoy the moment that will become a memory. I just hit a bad shot off the tee. It’s the first bad shot of the day, and we’ve been enjoying the close play. My boy tosses me a ball and says, “Do it again”. It’s an allowable do-over. No questions asked. I set up the ball, take a deep breath, and swing. The shot is long and straight, landing and bouncing past my boy’s ball on the fairway. I feel good again, I made good on a mistake.

Life doesn’t allow Mulligans. Every tee shot you take in life needs to be played from wherever it lands. No exceptions. I’ve been hitting out of the woods, behind trees, and out of sand my entire life. Some shots sailed onto the fairway, others fell short or got lost altogether. I can’t erase them. But if I can’t forget about them, at the very least, I can forgive myself for them.

Some days I hit some good shots. Most days I hit a few bad ones. The bad ones have been keeping my mind racing at a frenetic pace. They keep me up at night and ruin otherwise peaceful moments. But each day I get up and swing again. The new day is the Mulligan. It is not a continuation of the last round. If I can remember to look at each day in this vein, my life is sure to get better.

Finding Motivation: Embracing Inner Strength

I finally found some motivation. While I haven’t spiraled down any drains of negative thinking and self-flagellation lately, I have been a tad unmotivated. I think it’s the weed; maybe it’s time to stop that. Like I did with the Drink, when I get sick of something, I will have the strength to stop. I am good in that respect.

I rarely do anything that even resembles bragging, but sometimes I am proud of myself. I have resolve. I find ways to tap into reserves of inner strength. I do not need to rely on others to pick me up. Recently, I have learned that no matter how low I get, I can pull myself out of it. I have this ability. I’m glad to have it.

Some people take a hard look at themselves in times of crisis. I do it as a matter of habit. I often joke that nobody can ever be harder on me than I am.

I made a comment to my lady friend that I was proud of a recent accomplishment. She took me to task for invoking the notion of pride. I know where she is coming from. She is a deeply religious person and she is coming from a place of humility. I admire it. But I also disagree. Pride and hubris are profoundly different things.

Humility is not thinking more of yourself, it is thinking about yourself less. I try to embody that in every aspect of my life. I strive to be selfless in all that I do. I deflect compliments, I share credit, and I genuinely want others to succeed. I don’t think of myself as much as I think of others.
BUT, I have come a long way.

Not that long ago, I was barely able to care for myself. I was sick, broke and despondent. A few short years later I have accomplished almost everything on my vast bucket list. My Bucket list is an “as it were” list. As my goals for a happy life came from a place called Rock Bottom. My goals were lofty then, given my situation. Lofty but challenging nonetheless. Getting my own place, being able to support myself, maintaining my newfound good health, and getting in shape. I have done all of that. Why am I not allowed to be proud of all of that?

I know what bragging is. I’ve seen it a million times. But “humble bragging” at an awards ceremony and exclaiming happiness at accomplishing goals are two very different things. I am not pleased with myself, I am merely pleased with my life.

I get what she is saying. It comes from a good place. But everyone needs to understand something important. Your current status in life is measured by where you were before.

I was very sick. Now I am not.
I was a borderline alcoholic. I have been sober for ten months.
I was living with my mother. Now I have my own place.
I wasn’t contributing, only taking. Now I work, volunteer and mentor.
I was in terrible physical condition. I am now at the lowest weight I have been in 10 years.
I was in a BAD place mentally. Now, I see the signs and am working on preventative measures.
I had no clue who I was and what my mission was. I now know my purpose and am living it.

I was there. Now I am here. And I’m proud of that.

Movie night.

Yesterday was a good day. Productive, rewarding, and just fun.

I have never been a complainer. I am not a negative person in general. However, I feel that I don’t write about my good days enough.

I picked up my car at noon. It had been in a body shop since Monday. It should have been done on Wednesday. However, my friend and Masonic Brother Alex ran into some issues at his shop. This caused a delay. I couldn’t complain; he was taking care of me, as Masons do.

It wasn’t an Insurance job. I can’t afford the surcharges and rate increases every time an incident occurs. I damaged the bumper of my car by hitting a fat Raccoon in August. I was sad for killing one of God’s innocents. I was also pissed because Alex had just replaced that bumper after an Uber incident. I procrastinated on getting it repaired because I was annoyed as well as broke. Always a fun combination. So Alex, being a friend, offered to replace it as cheaply as possible. Now, I don’t take advantage of a friend’s good nature. And I am very careful never to abuse a Masonic relationship. Because of that, I did it on his availability.

Often, having a friend do work for you is a liability in its own right. I know of instances where the work was not done up to standard because it was a favor. Also, it can take longer because, as they are doing you a favor, the real paying customers come first. Neither was the case here. The work was excellent, and the delay was due to shipping errors for the parts. I had another reason not to complain. He had loaned me his very nice Dodge Truck for the week. This kept me from having to rent a car. It saved me a lot of money. By the time I pulled into his shop, I was feeling good about the whole thing. Little did I know that he would up the ante by taking me to lunch at a local Brazilian restaurant. We had a great lunch and a better conversation. He is a genuinely nice and generous man. Driving home from lunch in my nice undamaged car, I felt very satisfied. It was a moment when I paused to acknowledge how special some areas of my life are. These moments remind me of the value in my life.

I was then struck by a wave of inspiration to do some writing. I have been working on a novel for some time, and I have been locked down with writer’s block. When I got home, I immediately opened the file and reviewed everything I had so far. Inspired, an entire new chapter flowed from my fingertips. I hated to stop but I had made plans with my son Ryan. We were doing Movie Night and I couldn’t wait.

Movie night is our new tradition. Ryan and his new bride recently bought a great house in Central NH. It is perfect in every way. The house is updated, perfectly located in a sparse, quiet neighborhood where distance and privacy are paramount. They have 2 dogs and acres of land for them to run around. Since moving in, Ryan has invited me several times to come watch a movie and hang out. The unspoken part is that we get high before the movie.

Smoking weed with my kids is something that I never thought I would do. In fact, I spent an inordinate amount of time as a younger man worrying if my children would like me enough to even hang out with me when they were older. Just another thing I wasted valuable kidney function worrying about.

Getting high with someone is a significant social interaction. The act itself implies that all participants will likely become inebriated and act uncharacteristically. We all know of the effects of weed, but the biggest side effect is vulnerability. When smoking with someone, you need to be comfortable with those around you and unafraid of judgment or criticism. Some people can act quite out of character. Ryan and I have a blast. We laugh hard, and have amazing conversations. It warms my heart that he wants to hear me regale him with tales of my youth, my philosophies on life, and my unfiltered views on things. He calls the session before the movie the “Unfiltered Dad time” and no title has ever made me happier.

Last night we had a treat, my daughter-in-law joined us. Abby has been a nurse for years and always regretted that she couldn’t use weed because of testing. She recently got a new job, one that requires her medical training but as an Account executive. She now has normal hours and she can finally get high. She celebrated that new privilege with us last night. She was hilarious to smoke with.

The movie was irrelevant. It was the steaks on the Blackstone. It was playing with the dogs. It was enjoying candid time with my adult son, not having to wear the “Dad Hat” anymore. Years ago, I was terrified and constantly worried that my children would outgrow me. That the volatility of our household would cause them to resent me. That I would be relegated to the distinction of the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter dad.

It thrills me that the exact opposite occurred. Here’s to many more Movie nights. And days like yesterday.

Second instinct

I was talking to my lady friend recently. The conversation was about morality and religion. I was challenging her, playfully but genuinely, on her very firm religious views. She and I are very different in our approach, but we do share a genuine belief in a higher power. More importantly, we are both very committed to being good people in a very messed-up world. I say that salvation lies in being a good person. She insists that the goal is Heaven. She insists the only path is through the Big JC. I see our similarities; I think she sees the differences in our approach. It’s a work in progress and we’re both saying and doing the same thing. The conversation took an interesting twist, as I pointed out to her that I tried to be a good person every day and in every interaction with people. Her reaction, which concerned as well as fascinated me, was to say, “You shouldn’t have to try.”
I couldn’t disagree more.

I was raised by the last generation that produced tough, independent, and resilient people. I was taught how to handle myself as well as deal with others. Respect for elders was important. A handshake was your word. A promise made was a promise kept. Your reputation mattered. How you conducted yourself was in due proportion to how you were perceived. Manners weren’t an ideal, they were the gold standard.

Let’s face it, the behavior of people has taken a tragic turn. Except for the good people around us, I always want to acknowledge them as the rule and not the exception, manners and respect are out the window. Personal space, respect for the elderly, decorum, clothing choices, and of course, public conduct are all out the window. Some days, it takes all my energy to stay calm. I try not to become furious at how people treat each other and me. Beyond the notion of anger at the deterioration of society, it also saddens me.

So,where does the earlier comment about “trying” enter into this? My lady friend maintains that, as a good Christian, it should happen naturally. She further explained that if you have to try, then it isn’t organic. That is the Biblical Scholar in her. I love this about her and it maddens me at the same time. Being a person of faith, having accepted JC as your lord and savior, does not make you less mortal. As a mortal person, you have the same human frailties as the rest of us. You are no less prone to being annoyed, offended, or insulted. I do give Christians the advantage in forgiveness. They, and my lady friend is included, are very good at that.

Me, sometimes it takes a little work. I am very rigid when it comes to societal standards. What people do, say, wear, etc., in public concerns me. I don’t care for blatant displays of public affection. I don’t love profanity on shirts and bumper stickers. I dislike slovenly people wearing pajamas outside of the house. I strongly dislike rude behavior. I can go on but you get it. Mind you, I’m not a prude by any means. I don’t hate those who offend my sensibilities; they just challenge me. So I have to “try” to conduct myself to my own standards in reaction to their low standards. I invariably succeed, but it’s not easy for me. It takes work. I made a semantic error. I should have stated “it takes effort” instead of the word “try”. Still, I’m glad because it led to a meaningful conversation. It caused me to explore it further here. As part of that exploration, I was reminded of one of my staple coping mechanisms, Second Instinct.

When I try to be a good person and do the right thing as often as humanly possible, the Second Instinct is often utilized. Sometimes doing the right thing entails doing nothing other than not being an asshole. Increasingly, it’s more work than that. When I’m treated poorly or disrespectfully, my natural instinct is to lash out. I can be a righteous sonofabitch when challenged. But years ago, as my blood pressure was rising, I had to learn how to control my reaction to events. I began to repeat a mantra to myself. “Not everything requires a reaction,” I said it over and over. I did this when in environments that cause me stress.
I trained myself. And it has served me well. I take a deep breath instead of getting into verbal or physical altercations. I control my first reaction or instinct. Then, I go with my second one. I have found that most times my first instinct is correct, because I do believe that I am a good person that knows how to conduct himself properly. But sometimes things do require a reaction. A good person can walk away from most things. But a person with self-respect will assert himself if his dignity is on the line. In which case, the second instinct will be the same as the first. But the second one is almost always right.

Genuine

genu·ine
[ˈdʒɛnjʊɪn]

genuine (adjective)
truly what something is said to be; authentic:“genuine 24-carat gold”

I hear it a lot. “You’re one of a kind”. I know it’s not always a compliment, if it is it’s meant as a backhanded one at best. But I take it for what it’s worth. We’re all unique in one way or another. For better or worse, I suppose. Even the extreme conformists have unique qualities. Sheeple, as I like to refer to them, have something that separates them from the pack. We all have interests, passions, and guilty pleasures. Unfortunately, you have to dig a little harder on some people to find out what makes them different. Personally, I value the differences in people.
I only ask that the world do the same for me. Because for all of my faults, at least I’m genuine. I’m real.

I’ve spent an inordinate amount of my life fighting the compulsion to be what I think the world wants me to be. It’s exhausting. And it’s not for me anymore. I realized recently that I do something embarrassing every day. To be clear, I may be the only one who is embarrassed by it. However, that’s all it takes to send me into a spiral. Those spirals have been devastating to me. A typical fall down the rabbit hole has me questioning my self-worth. It also has me doubting my cognitive abilities for days or even weeks. It has crushed my self-esteem and has often left me wondering how people perceive me. I think it has a little to do with my nightly weed consumption. It is a depressant after all, and what I have described are all symptoms of depression. That’s an easy fix.
But the self-flagellation has to stop.

The answer to how to stop is actually quite simple. Just as one should always accept responsibility and embrace accountability, we should also “Own” our shortcomings. Is it really that simple? Just “Own it”?
Maybe it is.

This is who I am. I am awkward. I say the wrong thing or say too much in general. I sometimes don’t know how to act in situations. My anxiety causes a massive “Murphy’s Law” scenario in which fearing gaffes causes me to do just that. So what would it be like if I removed the worry about the gaffes as a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Bill 2.0. That’s what.

I’m going to lean into it. I am who I am, and I insist on being the genuine me. Social gaffes, saying the wrong thing, the list of things that have made me self-conscious are part of the package. If people don’t get me, I guess it will have to be their problem. If they don’t like me, then they’re missing out on some good stuff. Because, despite all of my awkwardness, I have a lot of good qualities to offer. I need to learn how to showcase them to the world. I’ve always said that you need to look deep to find what makes someone special. Well, then people will have to do the same with me. As my beloved fraternity of Freemasonry espouses, every man needs to shine his light. I live by that credo. So that’s my new philosophy.

Talk about an epiphany.

    Breaking Free from Self-Criticism: A Journey to Self-Acceptance

    I’ve been called a lot of things; heck, I’ve even called myself a few choice terms. When in the throes of self-flagellation, I can be harder on myself than anyone could ever be on me. Unfortunately, I indulge in self-flagellation quite often. Oddly, I have a hard time concluding what I’m upset with myself about. It’s quite confounding.

    I often chalk it up to my anxiety. I have intense Social Anxiety, and the symptoms can closely resemble what we commonly call “neurotic”. Neurotic people overthink. They play back conversations in their head to see if they said something regrettable. They read too much into everything. They think that people are mad at them. Also, they tend to worry about “measuring up”. I am, at times, guilty of all of these.

    Then there are those moments when I know that I’ve done nothing wrong. Overthinkers know things because they have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about them. Yet I will still feel self-critical in those moments. I recognize that while my conduct wasn’t perfect, I also acknowledge that nobody is. Yet I continue to have this tired conversation over and over with myself. I don’t just hold myself to a high standard; I hold myself to an impossible one. There’s a term for it.
    Moral Perfectionism.
    Moral Perfectionism involves pursuing high ethical standards and moral excellence. This pursuit often leads to anxiety and dissatisfaction. The cause is unrealistic expectations. It can have both positive and negative effects on mental health. A drawback is the fear of making ethical mistakes, which leads to anxiety and avoidance of risks. On the positive side, it can motivate individuals to strive for excellence and ethical behavior.

    I need to be clear. I have no expectations of perfection. There is no such thing as a perfect person. As a Freemason, my objective as a person is to be a little better than I was yesterday. It is NOT about being better than other people. That is my goal. What I am trying to do is make up for my past. I believe that I was, in my past life, a wandering, unaccomplished, and purposeless individual. I regret to add that I have had moments in which I displayed bad character as well. Most people would chalk up the incidents that I am alluding to as “being human”. I am not that kind to myself. I am still beating myself up for everything that a better-adjusted person would have already forgiven themselves for.

    Later in life, I became concerned about my legacy. Along the crooked path of my life, I began to adopt a particular lifestyle. I like to refer to this lifestyle as “the fly on the wall of your funeral” lifestyle. Will the attendees of my funeral remember me well or not? See, I have made my peace with God. I believe my soul is heading North, not South. I have embraced religion and the notion of an afterlife. However, I believe our legacy is of paramount importance. What others remember about us matters. Applying the “fly on your wall” mentality, I live my life with the hope of leaving a positive impression. I aim to do this with everyone I interact with. I aim to ensure they have a good impression of me. Even a one-time interaction should leave them with a positive impression of me in some way. I am quite diligent about this; I actually look for opportunities to be of help or offer kindness. Alas, it is not enough sometimes.

    It’s maddening to know that your expectations are unattainable, but you continue with the charade. The charade lacks parity. Even if I positively affected 20 people, I would still dwell on one less positive incident. It’s truly maddening. It’s known as “Perpetual dissatisfaction”. This is the feeling of inadequacy or dissatisfaction when I feel I haven’t reached my moral goals.

    Even seeing the words “Moral goals” causes me to reassess. I may sync with the characteristics of Moral Perfectionists in some ways. Okay, in many ways. All I’m trying to do is lead a good life. Why isn’t that enough for me? I wake up with a positive attitude. I go out into the world. I capitalize on any opportunities to be an instrument of good. That should be enough. I wake up with a positive attitude. I go out into the world. I capitalize on any opportunities to be an instrument of good. That should be enough.
    But somehow it’s not.

    I need to stop wanting to be perfect. There is no such thing. As I said, it’s maddening. In the world we live in, it is an enormous achievement to simply not be an asshole.

    I should just strive for that.

    The Cost of Being Busy: A Masonic Perspective

    “My tardiness in answering your letter was not due to press of business. Do not listen to that sort of excuse; I am at liberty, and so is anyone else who wishes to be at liberty. No man is at the mercy of affairs. He gets entangled in them of his own accord, and then flatters himself that being busy is a proof of happiness.” – Seneca, Letter 106

    I love Seneca. He’s my favorite Stoic. His writings, over 2000 years old, are eerily relevant today. The above quote, except the last line, was just what I needed to read today. With regards to my life, “and then flatters himself that being busy is a proof of happiness” is not at all accurate. I don’t flatter myself about being happy. I am happy with my life. It is very fulfilling in so many ways. I choose to be busy. Not only do I choose it, but I also love being busy.
    So where am I going with this?
    I have somehow gone from enjoying my many activities to feeling obligated to be everywhere.

    Some context will be helpful, I suppose. I am a Freemason. Freemasonry is a Fraternity, and like all Fraternities, membership can fluctuate in activity level. When we Masons find an active, willing, and helpful guy we gather around that man. As much as I don’t want to admit it, we rely heavily on that man. We get as much out of him as we can. It is not an exploitation but a sad reality. We have many causes. Much of the membership is satisfied with their current activities. Others simply don’t have the time.
    I have the time. And I am that man.

    Masonry is my passion and I build my work schedule around it for the most part. I am a senior Officer in my home lodge. I am a District Officer. I am also a member of 2 other lodges. I am an officer in one of them. I am also a Shriner. I am a member of York Rite. I am a 32 degree Scottish Rite Mason. I am also a member of the Masonic Motorcycle Riding Association, the Widows Sons. I am active in most of these bodies.
    And it is getting to be too much. I need to work.

    I don’t know how it happened, but I lost my ability to say no. I should have seen it coming, I know myself. I am not a spectator, I am a doer. If something needs to be done, it’s not enough for me to hope someone else will do it. I enjoy my charity work. I enjoy mentoring the newer members. I also enjoy spending time with my Brothers, it is 95% of my friend base. The more people you know, the more invitations you get to events. I can’t state this firmly enough, I care about the fraternity with all of my heart. We do good work for others and it is a great source of gratification. But somehow I feel obligated to be at everything. For a while, it was manageable. Lately, it’s getting to be more of a commitment or obligation than a privilege. I suspect that I am doing too much. It is costing me my peace, as well as money. The cost of gas alone is killing me. Add that to the loss of income and I am going in a negative direction.

    I realized this morning that I am holding off on getting a part-time job because of my Masonic commitments. I have a job lined up already. The owner is expecting me to call him. I haven’t because I’m trying to figure out a way to make the schedule work. That’s fucking ridiculous.

    I detail cars. It is a seasonal business, obviously. And my customer base is dwindling. I also drive Uber and Lyft, which is killing my car and sometimes costs me as much as I earn. I need a part-time job. It seems absurd that I don’t have one. I spend all of my time on events that cost me money, and most of my time is wasted. Just reading this drives it home.

    There are 3 Masonic events this weekend. I am going to one. It is a funeral, and that is important to me. I am feeling guilty about not committing to the other 2. Why? I need to do something about this. As Mr. Miyagi famously stated,
    “Balance, Daniel-San. Balance.”

    I’m doing too much. I feel too obligated. It’s wearing me down. I need to work.

    It’s OK to say NO.

    What would Ted do?

    I discussed the show Ted Lasso in my last post. If you read it, you will know that I found a tremendous amount of redeemable traits in the main character. As a fictional character, I must stop short of most comparisons. But, as presented, I see in him the person I want to be. He is not perfect. In fact, he is deeply flawed. As am I. And most of the world as well.
    What so inspired me about his character?
    He is broken in so many ways. As am I.
    He is kind, humble, and accountable. I sure try to be.
    He is patient, slow to judgment, and sees only the best in people. I am not all the way there, but I’m working on it.
    His greatest trait, he is forgiving. After discovering a particularly egregious betrayal, his response was unforgettable. He chose to watch a video of the betrayal. He didn’t just watch the highlights; he watched all of it. He saw things that a non-forgiving person wouldn’t. He looked for the reason behind it. Then, the way in which it was carried out. Then he looked into what the betrayer must have been feeling. All on soundless video.
    After taking it all in, he said,
    “I hope that all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments, but rather the strength they show when and if we get a second chance.”

    Wow, just wow. Who can’t learn from that beautiful sentiment? Rather than condemning, vilifying, or being angry with a person who wronged him, he instead tried to put himself in that person’s shoes. He didn’t forgive him; he did more than that. He tried to understand. Ted acknowledged that the person would need to recover from that low moment eventually. He withheld judgment. That is the textbook definition of Grace.

    I’ve been in that position. Downtrodden. Not acting as my best self. Lashing out at the world for my station in life. I’ve said things in anger or spite, even jealousy. I was too sick, too angry, too resentful, too shell-shocked by the bomb life dropped on me. My lengthy and major life-altering illness is what changed everything about my life in every possible way. But despite all of it, it made me a better person.
    Eventually. It taught me, and still is, some valuable lessons.

    I learned humility. As per the definition, I thought not less about myself, but instead I thought about myself less.
    I embraced accountability. While I have always tried to be honest with myself, I needed to learn to accept my role in everything. I couldn’t be selective.
    I embraced selflessness. Sure, it’s a hell of a lot easier to do when you don’t have a lot. But that applies largely to wealth. I became selfless of the resources within me. I offered my time, an ear to listen, and an opportunity to help. I searched for opportunities for kindness. Instances of charity, anonymous when possible and always gracious. By that, I suppose I mean for the right reasons. Charity and relief are not to be done for self-promotion, and I try to live by that.
    Finally, I learned forgiveness. As much as anyone is actually capable of doing so, I forgave myself for my past. Of course, I haven’t put it completely behind me, but I am doing much better.

    What I have not been able to do is unconditionally get past my behavior in the lowest moments in my life. Not the moments of illness and despair, but instead the times that I acted badly when I had a choice. Nobody, myself included, would ever expect me to just smile as my family life crumbled. As my career evaporated before my helpless eyes. As I eventually lost all but what would fit in a Honda Civic en route to Mom’s basement.
    Through all that, I could have conducted myself better.

    Now, I have that second chance. Life has humbled me. I have set myself on the path to being the person I want to be. I can actually look in the mirror and be satisfied with the person looking back at me. I don’t know if people are judging me for my misdeeds. I certainly have done my share of apologizing. Yet I am still struggling with the forgiveness. When I said above that I have adopted forgiveness for myself, I should have said “attempting”. I still feel as if there is atonement needed. Which is ridiculous, because I am referencing my lowest moments. It should be enough that I have done everything in my power to move on. I am a much better person now. I think most would agree.

    I’m probably the only holdout. And that’s just sad. Just another area where I wish I was Ted.