Category: hiatus

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.

Man seeking woman. Maybe. I’m not sure

It would be wonderful if I could understand that I don’t need a romantic partner to be complete as a person.

I want one. That is true. More than anything. Having someone to share my life with is the final item on my bucket list. I have recovered my health. I have gotten myself back on my feet financially. I have gotten my own place to live. All that remains is to get another shot at a meaningful and rewarding relationship.

Alas, dating has been a nonstop sequence of rejection and disappointment. It is only my stick-to-it attitude (that dominates every area of my life) that causes me to persevere. In reality, it should be clear to me that it means that I haven’t met the right one yet. But it’s starting to feel like I’m not dateable. To put a finer point on it, I am starting to blame myself for each failed try. And it is taking a terrible toll on my self-esteem. I’m beginning to think that my very happiness is contingent upon being in a relationship. Which is a shame because I actually have a pretty great life.

The most recent one stings a bit. We only went out a few times but we really connected. She was real. She was fun. She was my type. I felt really comfortable with her. On our third date she asked to be exclusive. I came close to dropping my shields and allow myself to feel happy. The next morning, while preparing for our mutually highly anticipated day together, I got a text from her. Family issues came up, she needs to focus on it, can’t do a relationship right now. There was no mention of whether it was permanent or temporary. Because it seemed to be real, I didn’t dig deeper for fear of making it about me. I told her that if things change, to reach out. Damn, I liked this one. But it stings. I have done the usual overthinking. I can’t, for the life of me pinpoint if it’s something that I did. I also don’t have reason to believe that she is being dishonest with me. I don’t know what to think.

But I hurt. The letdown stings. I can’t help but wonder if I should continue in the dating world. Or should I just hand it over to the Universe? To her credit, the Universe has provided every other blessing in my life. The problem is that I look for signs in everything. Am I going to be looking too hard for love?

I really don’t know what to do. Patience is not something I possess in abundance. And I am getting tired of getting kicked in the nuts every time I put myself out there. A big part of me wants to remove myself from the scene. To grow a beard and make myself as unattractive as possible. To push people away for fear of them getting too close. Unfortunately, that is not who I am. I get hurt because I am open and accessible. It’s one of my few redeeming traits.

Dreams

I was recently asked if I have any dreams I want to realize before I die. When you have dealt with the ups and downs of chronic illness, you don’t have dreams. You have a bucket list. Mine is extensive.

Before I die, and that’s really what it comes down to, I hope to accomplish many things. They range from the very serious to the “that looks fun.” Before I die, I want to;

Go skydiving. There are a lot of reasons to want to do this. However, the appeal to me is primarily about overcoming a great fear. I am terrified of heights. I have nightmares of falling (many people do). Jumping out of a plane will be a brave stand against both. I may go to my grave feeling a bit less of a pussy.
I will likely do this before it is too late.

Go across country in a RV. I’ve always wanted to see America in a Kerouac way. I want to be present, not an observer. I dream of seeing this great country through a windshield. I dream of taking my time. Asking locals where they go to drink and eat. To meet people and learn the small details of their corner of the world. I would love to do this with the love of my life. If not, I will definitely do it with a dog by my side.
This is a doable dream. Although it might be modified to a convertible and motels.

I would like to make a long motorcycle trip. I’ve done trips as long as a few days. I want to do one over a month or more.

Fortunately, I’ve made a strong comeback in life recently. I have crossed many small items off the list. I’ve also crossed a few big ones off.
So let’s move on to the big ones.
I want to find peace of mind. I am tired of the anxiety and the negative thinking. A dream of mine is to do whatever I must do, including therapy if that’s what it takes, to reach a mental place where I can enjoy some of the time I have left in harmony with the world around me. I know this is an odd one, but it really is that important to me.

Here’s the big one. I want to fall in love. It saddens me to say this, but my wife wasn’t my greatest love. I loved her, but there is a feeling I crave that is yet unfilled. I want to meet The One. The person that I think of first when I wake and last when I go to sleep. I want a woman who makes me glad I’m alive. A woman so great that her happiness will always be my greatest concern.

This just occurred to me. I also have a dream of being a man of such great character. I want to be deserving of True Love. That one wraps up nicely.

Finding Strength in Sobriety Without AA

At the time of this writing, I am 32 days sober. I have to say, it’s going quite well. Almost too well. I’m not miserable. I’m not struggling. I’m not craving booze and calling a sponsor to talk me off of the ledge. Everything I’ve seen in the movies and TV is wrong.
Actually, I’m not serious about that. I understand addiction. I know alcoholism. I have seen the wake of destruction left by addicts of booze and drugs. My understanding is further validated by my time as a Recovery Case Manager. I know that everyone is different in their story, the severity of their illness and the battles of recovery. We all do it differently with varying results.

Alcoholics Anonymous is not for everyone. A major point of contention is embracing the whole “higher power” thing. Others don’t believe in “turning it all over” to the higher power. They fail to embrace the notion of powerlessness. The first step of AA is to admit powerless over their addiction. A LOT of people push back on that one. That’s probably where I also struggle. I believe in a higher power. I also believe that my life was becoming unmanageable(ish). But I fail to believe that my willpower and strength to commit to sobriety play no part in its success. You can tell me all you want that maybe my higher power gave me the strength. The fact is that I am the one who got myself to the meetings and avoided drinking. It’s not about pride, it’s about accomplishment.

After 31 days, I am starting to think that AA will be a part of my recovery. However, it will not be all of it.

I like the meetings. Contrary to what I have heard from some, meetings are not a depressing place of self-commiseration. To the contrary, the people I have sat with celebrate the program and the manifest blessings it has provided them. These are happy, positive, and grateful people. Additionally, they are friendly and helpful. I will never forget my first meeting. I was greeted, welcomed, and offered phone numbers with offers of support. I have already made many friends. The meetings have been enjoyable and have helped in my having stopped drinking.
But they’re already getting old. It’s the same people and the same stories. I’m not feeling as inspired as I once was. I’m not feeling like they’re helping me. I’m not even sure they are worth the time and lost income. I like them, I really do. I’ll keep going. But I don’t want to do the steps. At least not now.

I’m not drinking. I’m not tempted to drink. I feel better without drinking and I want to keep on. Much to the chagrin of the AA die-hards, AA may not be for me.

This is not an anti-AA post. I have said many positive things about it and I believe in it. It works. I have seen more than enough evidence. I am only pointing out that it is not the only way to get sober. I will continue to discuss this in future posts.

More on this later.

Finding Peace of Mind: My Journey Through Anxiety

Peace of mind has largely escaped me for most of my life. I have dealt with undiagnosed anxiety for a very long time. My particular form of anxiety forbids peace of mind. Of course, I can only speak for myself. The particulars of my anxiety are omnipresent and maddening. 

This makes it confusing why I never sought help with these behaviors. I now know they have severely impacted the decisions I’ve made. Their consequent outcomes are another effect I understand now. While I can’t blame anything in particular, I feel those behaviors robbed me of something. I always feel there’s something else I should be doing. I feel I should be anywhere but where I am. I constantly question and review in my head every conversation and interaction I have. I check to see if I did or said something wrong. I worry about every fucking thing that would never even happen. There is no peace of mind in that.

Then the bottom fell out, so to speak. I lost everything in six months. It was a long period of rebuilding. The only positive aspect was that my life was now about just me. I focused on my ability to survive and rebuild. As part of rebuilding, I needed to tackle my mental health.

I started by being honest with myself. Brutally honest. I gave it legitimacy by creating a blog. It became quite successful. Readers appreciated my story for its brutal honesty. They valued the unflinching analysis of what I was, where I had been, and where I was going. The most notable transformation made through my writing was that I lost much of my anger. I forgave those who didn’t deserve it. I stopped waiting for apologies that weren’t coming. I became accountable for my part in things. I didn’t forgive for the sake of anyone else, I did it for me.

Physically I am well now, but it wasn’t an easy journey. Mentally, I still struggle with my anxiety. I have taken steps to address it. I started by simplifying my lifestyle. I avoid that which causes me stress. I engage in charity. I try to only associate with good people. I am always honest in my interactions. I do my best to be in harmony with the universe and the people in my own little universe. I live an accountable life that allows me to sleep at night.

In the process, I finally found things about myself that I like and I learned what makes me happy. I engage in those things with energy and integrity and wouldn’t you know…I have some peace of mind. In particular, I care less about whether people like me, because I like me.

Finally.

Is Loneliness a Choice? A Personal Reflection

I’ll never forget when my friend Steve said it.
“You can go to a restaurant by yourself, sit and drink or eat alone. It doesn’t bother you at all. That’s a rare thing, you know. I sure can’t do it.”
He has never given me the impression that there’s anything he can’t do. The guy was a Army Ranger and won’t sit in a restaurant alone? I told him that I had never given it much thought.
He further went on to say that it indicates security, confidence, and self-awareness. Things that I have rarely been accused of and traits that he has an abundance of. I asked him why he wouldn’t do it. His reply was that he didn’t like to appear lonely.

Lonely. Many aspects of my life can easily suggest that I am lonely. I live alone. I haven’t had a relationship lasting more than 4 months in almost 8 years. I do indeed go into establishments and bars alone, where I can occupy myself for hours. But I don’t feel lonely.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I occasionally lament the fact that I don’t have the company of a woman. But that’s another conversation.

I am very comfortable being alone. In fact I often enjoy it. As my social anxiety increases and my energy level diminishes, home is my favorite place. I like to cook, read, putter, watch movies and write. Sadly, much time for those activities was lost as my drinking and weed habit surged of late. Now that I am attempting sobriety I am doing more of those activities.

But I’m not lonely. I have a vast network to reach out to. I could probably arrange a breakfast or lunch with a friend every day of the week. I enjoy people. To an extent. Then I retreat to my Fortress of Solitude, my tiny apartment.

It has occurred to me that this is largely semantic. Does loneliness mean that one has no-one in their life? Does it mean that you don’t have friends or family to talk to or spend time with? Or does it mean that you need a partner? If it’s the latter, then yea I may be.

By choosing to remove myself from the dating scene entirely I didn’t make a choice to be lonely. I made a choice to be alone. I’ll admit it, I’m not too proud or macho to say it, I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I can tell you a very convincing argument about how I’m ok with it. But the hole in my heart has caused a hole in my life. I liked being married, if not to the person I married. I enjoyed having someone with me to share life with. I wish I had someone to spend time with. Not every day, maybe one day a week. To have dinner, make dinner, go out to a movie or something. To see where it goes. I genuinely crave female companionship. Not just sexually. Yes I like it but I value connection above all. I like women.

But I have decided to not make any active measures to meet anyone. I am leaving it to chance. Hopefully someone I can meet face to face. Online Dating is just miserable. It’s exactly like trying to make puzzle pieces fit. It’s forced and I won’t play that game anymore. Until I meet someone I want to be with, it’s just me. I choose who I spend my time with.

I am not lonely, I am just good at being alone. I’m alone because, despite my desire for intimacy, my sense of self-preservation will always take over. And it is definitely not a decision.

A moment

Everyone, including former Recovery Case Managers, know that relationships are a bad idea when you’re in recovery. Patients are always warned not to date fellow members. They are further cautioned against beginning new relationships while in the early stages of sobriety. Those already in a relationship while chasing sobriety can just hope for a supportive partner. When I walked into my first meeting, I was preparing to chase many thoughts out of my mind. One of these thoughts was dating someone in the group.

I was amused to hear someone say, “Have all the sex you want just don’t get in a relationship.” That works for some people, I’m not built like that. I’m a relationship person. Sex leads to feelings for me. Anyway, I noticed quite a few attractive members in the room. But I quickly remembered where I was and what I was there to do. Get better.

But one woman continued to catch my attention. I can’t get a feel for her exact age, but she seems age-appropriate. She has pretty blonde hair, nice eyes, and pleasant fleeting smiles. I’ve heard her story through her shares and she interests me. I kept my interest to myself.

We continued to see each other at daily meetings, and a few pleasantries exchanged led to a few minor conversations. She began to smile at me when she walked in. I didn’t read into it. She smiles at a lot of people. But one night I happened to be standing near the exit as she left. She looked very nice that evening and I told her so. She thanked me and walked past. While I was talking to another person, I looked to my left and she was looking back at me. She gave me a look. I can’t define it but if memory serves she was checking me out. I’m not very good at that stuff and it doesn’t happen often.

I’m sure that I just made her feel good. Her story suggests that her soon-to-be ex-husband isn’t nice to her so that may be it. All I know is it felt as if we had a moment. I remember the look vividly and it has remained with me.

We had a moment.

Tonight I told myself that it’s going to stay just a moment. I’m going to chase this out of my mind. I’m only thinking of myself in wanting to ask her for coffee or a late lunch. She is struggling with her life. Sobriety is hard and requires everything you have at times. Even a coffee with a well-meaning acquaintance may be more than she needs on her plate. It’s not fair to her.

I’ve always been a sensitive person. I don’t think I am selfish. I’ve even been called an Empath. But I take comfort in knowing that I can put another’s needs before my own. I’m not looking for a cookie or a pat on the back, I’m just sharing a nugget of personal growth.

I’m no closer to being ready to date than I was months ago. I don’t even know if I want it.

The Case Manager

As I mentioned in the previous post, upon my recovery, I realized that the following life changes were within my grasp.

I could get my own place.
I could go back to work.
I could date again.
I could move back closer to my family, friends, and groups that I belonged to.

Let’s talk about going back to work. The only person more grateful for the gift of another chance at life was me in 2011, after my first Transplant. I was a grateful S.O.B. to the Nth degree. I resolved to hit the ground running while doing good and paying it my gift forward. I wasn’t trying to redeem myself, I was merely trying to be a better, more moral, kind, and humble person. Sitting in a hospital bed for extended periods of time, with the nights being especially dark and lonely, a man has much time to evaluate his life. During my recovery I concluded that I was not the man I wanted to be. Not bad, not immoral. I simply wasn’t being the person I knew I could be and wanted to be. So when I got healthy I was a new man physically and spiritually. Then I got sick again.
Sigh.
2011 Grateful me was no match for 2021 Grateful Me. That sonofabitch was motivated.
I wanted to go back to work. I wanted to reclaim something. I had missed the satisfaction of a job well done since leaving the workforce. I also missed helping someone in the process. I decided that I wanted to be a Recovery Case Manager at a Drug and Alcohol treatment center. I had heard from someone who worked at the local center. They said training was being offered. No previous experience was needed. They also said that I would be a good fit.

As it turned out, I was. The interview went swimmingly well. The lead Case Managers were impressed with my story, they recognized and appreciated my real-world experience and, as I was told later, they thought my personality was perfect for the job. Wouldn’t you know it? I was a natural fit for the job.

The training was long and difficult. Recovery patients are a particularly challenging demographic. They have little in common with each other than addictive tendencies and their ability to lie and manipulate. I could handle that. I have an excellent Bullshit detector and I know how to handle people. At first, my customer service background limited me, I had a customer is always right mentality. My trainers broke me of that quickly. I was allowed, even encouraged, to call out lies and BS in order to obtain breakthroughs. I soon became regarded as one of the best RCM’s at the facility. As it turns, my style was appreciated.

I loved the job. I worked hard and I gave my clients all that I had. My fellow RCM’s and managers told me not to give so much, that the clients would use me and my good nature against me. And they did. But still, I helped many more than I hurt. I say this without ego or hubris; I was great at it.

Until I started getting sick. All the time. The clients came in from so many hazardous conditions and places. Living on the streets, halfway houses, jails, post-benders. Many were sick and there I was, an immunocompromised transplant patient being sneezed on at the height of Covid. It would lead me to make a very difficult decision.

I was able to work due to the Social Security Disabilty Insurance Ticket to Work program. For up to 9 months, I could earn any amount of money while still collecting my benefits. At the end of the trial period, I faced a decision. I had to choose whether to go back to work and lose my benefits or stay on them. At 8 months, I was suffering from a head cold that I had enjoyed for over a month. I was constantly sick due to my weak immune system. My doctor sounded the alarm. My kidney would not withstand constant attacks on my system.
Reluctantly, I had to choose to stay on benefits.

I could tell you that I have regrets, but I made the right decision. I needed to accept, finally, that I had limitations that couldn’t be ignored. I really miss that job. It was strenuous, it paid poorly and I took it home with me every night. But I did some good, made a positive impact on some, and was part of some great stories. I wish I could do it again, but it’s just not wise. The new grateful me is also interested in living for a while longer

I’m sure I will talk about my time as a Case Manager frequently. It was a special time.

A voyeur of my own life

I’m not depressed. Really I’m not. Maybe if I say it enough times then I’ll believe it.
Who am I kidding? If it is or isn’t, this is just what I do.
I isolate. It’s better for me if I acknowledge that I don’t have the stamina that I used to. I’m disabled, maybe I should admit it. When you’re disabled you have to remind yourself that you only have so much in you each day and when you’re tired, then go with it. Lately I’ve been embracing that notion, to perhaps an unhealthy level.

But people are worrying about me. They don’t understand what I’m trying to do. I’m doing a reset. Truth is, I like being alone.
I do my best thinking. I save money. By avoiding people I avoid piquing my anxiety, which is running roughshod over my weak ass lately. I’m safe in my little space. Not safe like a little Gen Z snowflake afraid to get his feelings hurt, just safe from encountering extra stimuli that is going to serve as the proverbial straw that broke the Camel’s back. That’s why I isolate. There is nothing that says that I have to be out there doing stuff all the time. It’s ok to spend time alone.
Did I mention that I was never like that before this year?
It’s true. This is very new. I used to be the guy that needed to be around people all of the time. I suppose that’s before people in my life started letting me down, or just the day that I noticed a lack of equity in my relationships. Equity is a nice way of saying that I’m tired of giving more than I’m capable of and getting the minimum monthly payment back. Disclaimer, I do have some very good friends. But there are a couple that hurt me recently and I’m not going to lie, it stings. It’s causing me to reevaluate how much I give of myself to those that don’t deserve it. While I’ll never pull it off, I’m tempted to dump my trademark “be kind” and not be so fucking nice all of the time. You can be a good person without being a punching bag. Fuck the high road, and fuck anyone that did me dirty.

I have thought a lot about my isolation recently. I have been forcing myself to go out and do something each day, no matter how small. Last night I decided to take the bike out. It was a hot day but by 7 it cooled enough and it was perfect riding weather. I could have called several friends, any one of who would have joined me but I went alone. I drove to a lake and sat at the edge looking at nothing and everything like a first year Philosophy student. Other than some serenity, I didn’t feel much of anything.

Therein lies the problem. I don’t feel anything anymore. Until very recently I was basking in that post-transplant glow. Full of promise, a new lease, the ability to do things that once appeared to be unavailable. Now, I’m joyless. I don’t feel things like I should. I spend my TV time watching Documentaries on subjects that irritate me, made by people I don’t like or respect. I watch indie dramedies in search of that amazing love story that rips my fucking heart out, because I don’t have that but I want to FEEL IT! I’m challenging my entire paradigm to figure out why I am a voyeur in my own goddamn life.

How can I be a spectator of my own life?

My room the sanctuary

I don’t know if I’m on a quest for substance or just profoundly depressed. While on paper there would appear to be no possible similarities between the two, with me they can easily be mistaken for each other.

I get depressed. But I don’t get sad. Yes, I know it’s a false equivalency; Depression isn’t always characterized by sadness. It’s detachment, apathy, lack of interest, isolating. There are times that I experience all of that. It’s a problem that I need to deal with at some point.
When I am on a quest for substance, it means that I am unsatisfied with something in my life. One would think it would be an easy fix, identify the issue and work on it, right?
Not always. Things are never that easy with me. If that is what is happening; I don’t know what it is that is bothering me, what I feel I am lacking, or even in what direction to look.
Having taken a deep dive on all of it, the best I can come up with is that it is a combination of both.

I am definitely depressed. And again, not sad. I just don’t give a fuck about things that I usually care greatly about. I love my family and friends but I don’t answer the phone when they call me. I may text some of them back. They want to know where I’ve been, why I missed meetings that I am always at (with joy I might add). They want to know if I’m ok. I tell them I’m fine, they know I’m lying and I’m making them feel bad for me. And I hate that. It would probably help me to talk about it, what little I understand of my behavior, but I refuse to pull them in.
I’ve been lying to everyone about how I am for years, why stop now?

There’s something to be said for the quest for substance also. Yes, I have been in my loft, with the exception of the rare times that I have to go out, and I have been watching a LOT of television. But here’s the caveat, I’m not watching reruns or just anything, but instead I am combing the streaming channels with a purpose. I am looking for that great movie that I’ve always wanted to watch, selecting titles and topics that I know will challenge my paradigm , even documentaries on controversial subjects created by controversial people. I watched Moscow on the Hudson because I knew that it was a beautiful take on Immigration and the American dream. I streamed Bowling for Columbine because I needed to see the other side (not my 2A stance) on the Gun Violence debate.
All in the interest of challenging myself. I actually like what I’m doing, just now how I’m doing it. But underneath it all, I know that I’m trying to improve myself and that cannot be a bad thing in my book.

Still, it needs to stop. I have a great life and there is no reason to be down. I have a great family, tons of friends, groups and activities that I enjoy, there are people that actually are counting on me. I like that as well as need it. It gives my life value. So what’s my problem?

I’m going out tomorrow. No matter what. I’m going somewhere and doing something with someone. If I can’t do that then I need to Google some therapists. Don’t think I haven’t thought about that as well.