Tag: humor

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.

Lessons from Ted Lasso: Inspiring Takeaways for Life

I watch too much TV. I admit it. But I try to watch something that has some redeeming value. If I watch a movie, I choose something that will teach me something new. It should alter my perspective or recharge my humanity. There has to be a takeaway. The same with shows. Recently I broke down and subscribed to Apple TV. They have a show that I had seen one episode of, and I had to see more. I’m so glad I did.
Ted Lasso has left me with takeaways I haven’t even identified yet.

Imagine Major League, the Movie (1986), but set in the world of English soccer. A team owner is motivated to destroy her Football team to get back at her ex. She hires an unknown, presumably inept, coach from Kansas for her team. She wasn’t counting on Ted Lasso being the ultimate underdog. Oh, Hell, to do it justice, Ted Lasso is so much more than that, he is an Everyman. After 3 seasons, I concluded that I had seen one of the best TV shows ever made.

If you haven’t surmised as such, I love his character. He is everything I want to be. I would like to say that he and I are on the same level, but I can only aspire.

When you first meet Ted, you see an extremely likable, helpful, and disarmingly gregarious man. His mother jokes in season 3 that when Ted was born, he promptly asked the doctor if he needed anything.
He is a coach who knows nothing about Football (Soccer). He is hokey, with the gift of extreme gab, and he is top-tier punny. He adapts to what he doesn’t know and makes the best of what skills he has as he learns. He is greeted with scorn by fans. He is underestimated (but liked) by his players and peers. He is continually sabotaged by the team owner in the interest of tanking her team. Betrayed time and time again, he remains unflappable and unfazed.
As you get to know Ted, you discover more about him. Underneath the affable, unpretentious coach, he is more confident than he lets on. He is more capable than given credit for. He is also amazingly intuitive. What we are intrigued to learn is that Ted Lasso is also broken. Your admiration for him as a man morphs into sympathy as details of the past that made him are revealed. He is plagued with panic attacks that threaten his new job and his hard-earned status and respect.
Ted is also broken.

I won’t give it all away. Watch it to learn the rest. This is not about the show. It is about the man. I believe I stated it already, Ted is the man that I strive to be. Ted Lasso thinks before he speaks. He chooses acceptance over anger. He forgives when any man would condemn and reject. He chooses the high road when almost nobody else would. His ego never gets in the way, his heart leads instead. He is the man I want to be.

Call me Ted. Give me the biggest compliment ever. Not yet, I’m not there. But I will be. I’m not to be underestimated either.

Cherishing Moments: A Father’s Reflection on Parenting

A regular Thursday turned into a fond memory. Thursday was a fairly typical day for me. Out of the house early to drive up to Mom’s house to do a Detail. I had a busy day ahead of me but if all went according to schedule it would be fine. I would be at my Ear Doctor’s at 9 when they opened. I would start work on my detail by 10. On the way back, I would stop at my son Ryan’s house to pick up some weed. Then I would go home to shower and head out to a Masonic event. The day went smoothly and I was able to pull into Ryan’s driveway at 4. It was close but I would make it.

The weed was just an excuse to see him. I really look for any reason to get together with him. We have been making time for each other. Lately, the plan is to have a movie night with a buzz at least once a month. Neither of us smokes a lot, but we have had some amazing conversations when we do. He calls it the “Stoned unfiltered Dad talks”. I won’t lie, I love that.

On this Thursday afternoon, his temporary roommate was there as well. Hunter has been his friend since the age of 10. He is like a third son to me. He’s going through some stuff right now and Ryan is giving him a hand up by letting him stay. As conversation freely flowed, the likelihood of rolling a fat one was inevitable.
So we did.
And another amazing conversation began.

We spent some time reminiscing about the old days with them. Ryan and Hunter were inseparable. They spent a great deal of time at our house. Hunter’s home life was less than happy. We had some big laughs at some recollections. The vibe in the room was ripe for real connection. At some point, Hunter pulled out his phone and began trying to show Ryan some videos he found amusing. Ryan repeatedly asked him to put it away. Finally,he said, “Dude, put the phone away. We can watch videos any time. My Dad is here and I want to hear him talk”.
I was floored. Flattered. Impressed. Happy. Gratified. It pleased me to no end that my son recognized the value of moments.

Having been given the floor, I had no intention of talking for the sake of talking. It was an invitation to speak freely and on the level. I have never been a big fan of wearing the “Dad Hat”. I raised my children largely by trying to be a tuned-in, relatable parent. I built relationships with my children so they could reach out to me for support. I wanted to ensure they received encouragement, not reprimands and stale advice. I wasn’t a lax friend or failed role model; I was approachable.
It was in that moment that I decided to feel out what my parental legacy really was. For the sake of context, I need to say that I carry much uncertainty about my parenting. I have been validated by how wonderful all four have turned out. But I also believe that it could have happened despite me. It happens.
So I asked them something I’ve always wanted to ask, Was I the Cool Dad?

My son Derek had already suggested that to me. He and I got along famously. My relationship with Ryan was more complicated. We failed for the longest time to really connect. He would say he was just finding his way. However, I felt that I didn’t have a relationship with him. And that absolutely killed me. We eventually turned a corner and things became great between us. But the off years really dug at me.
So, the resounding “Yes” at the question warmed my heart. Ryan revealed many fond memories of our times together. Ones that I had forgotten about because of my tendency to dwell on the worst moments. Hunter further confirmed that all dads were not like me in his friend circle. I was further pleased at the mentions in which Ryan witnessed what he called my “Masonic moments.” For the sake of this conversation, Masonic moments were those times that we were together where an opportunity to do something good arose and I acted on it. He would later become a Mason himself, to my great joy.

It was such an amazing moment. It was the conversation I had always hoped for with my adult children. All of those times that I sat, head in hands, fretting about my parental mistakes. Hoping and praying that I wouldn’t be the “Holiday” Dad that only gets an invite on the big 3 Holidays. That my children would absorb the good things I tried to do and forgive the bad times.
It would appear that I have accomplished this. I am grateful for this. It really is all I ever wanted, to be valued by my Children.

At 5 o’clock I decided that I would miss the function that I had planned on attending. I was in the middle of a moment, a moment that needed to fade on its own volition. I am so thrilled that my son has learned the importance of turning off a video and just be in the moment.

Finding Spirituality: My Journey Through Mental Health

I went to Church today. I woke up and desired an infusion of spirituality. It was a good decision.

This story has 2 components. A backstory as to why I needed a Spiritual infusion, and a brief recap of my relationship with God.

I have been really struggling with my Mental Health lately. I have been battling issues of self-worth on a formerly unmatched scale. I have been beating myself up more than ever over quirks in my behavior. I have hyper-aware of my mistakes and dwell on questions of my overall mental health. And despite my plentiful and amazing support system, I have been feeling very alone. If one were to observe me, they would be unlikely to see of what I speak. I act happy, I socialize frequently, and I am very busy. But underneath, the Sad Clown is still there.
My friend chalks it up to my being single. If you’ve read even one of my posts, you will know that I really want another chance at a relationship. You would also know that I have nothing but misery and disappointment. I have stopped trying. That has somewhat relieved the disappointment, but it hasn’t squelched the desire.
I have been in a very dark place. I actually have thought about ending things. If not for the damage I would leave behind for those who care for me.

Lisa reaching out to me has helped a lot. Talking about “what happened” has softened the blow. It also removed Lisa from my list of bad experiences that I have been ruminating over. We have been talking, and I am enjoying it. I missed her in so many ways. I love that she is in a good place. It is not lost on me that she credits bringing God to the forefront of her life as a reason. I think it’s working for her.

To me, God is a last resort. I am a control freak. I have challenged people in AA meetings about the notion of “turning it all over to God”. I understand that asking for help is necessary, but I believe that everything is ultimately up to us. And when we succeed, give God some credit. But give yourself some as well. I have always struggled with that notion.
I also struggle with religion. I have accepted a higher power into my life. It was a journey that took years of soul-searching. It was when I rejected the Traditional notion of religion that it became clear to me. I came up with the “Kayaking” approach.
Religion is sitting in a building thinking about Kayaking.
Spirituality is sitting in a Kayak thinking about God.

That changed everything (it is not original btw but it works).

As a Mason, belief in a higher power is essential. “Kayaking” enabled me to finally embrace the critical, and often misunderstood truism about religion. It is about aspiring to something that is bigger than yourself. If I had to choose, my religion is nature. Because I am tiny in comparison and that provides context for me. But I still reject traditional religion.
It’s always been that way.

But I needed that thing that I believe drives millions to a house of Worship on Sunday morning, the “feeling”. I have always rejected the “Holy rollers” who raise their arms to the heavens in Church. Those who sprinkle God into every conversation. The people who talk about it all the time. (Lisa is a bit like that but it’s her so I am making an effort). I think part of my avoidance of religion is because I am afraid of being that person. To be clear, I don’t dislike those people, I have just had some traumatic experiences with some of them.

But today was what I needed. There is a Church an hour from me that I really like. The dress code is informal, the people are super nice and decidedly not pushy in their beliefs. They are welcoming and loving. They made me feel comfortable.

Comfortable enough to have a good cry. To ask my Creator for clarity, help, or both as I struggle with my inner demons. I left feeling better than I went in. Again, it was a good decision.

God Bless America (not where you think I’m going with this)

It has taken many years, but I’ve learned a great deal about myself. The good, bad, and different. One thing I have learned is that I fit into very few molds. I’m built differently. Not better, just different.

I suppose, for context, where I’m going with this is that I don’t like much of what many others do. I don’t seek, crave, approve of, or aspire to SO many things that many do.

For starters, I don’t dance. I’m not rebelling against dancing; I truly don’t get it. I have never felt the need to move my body, nor do I care to express myself by doing so. It just doesn’t interest me, and I don’t see the point.
I make my own style. While I don’t think I have found that style yet, I do know that “slob” is not it. I believe in looking your best (this, of course, depends on the day) when you go out in public. Bathing, shaving, and checking your shirt for meatball stains should be a requirement to leave the house. Yes, that includes trips to Walmart.
I reject materialism. My minimalist lifestyle may be partially at fault for my lack of a romantic partner. My motorcycle is my only flashy possession. In all else, I lead a modest lifestyle. This wouldn’t be very different if I were to come into a lot of money. I would buy a house, own a few vehicles, and buy better brands, but not much else. I believe in the concept of enough. I don’t want too much, I merely desire enough to not want or need. I would love to not worry about money for once in my life.
I am also tragically non-conformist. If “everyone is doing it”, you can bet I’m probably not. I don’t refuse to partake in things because they’re popular, I merely test things for substance first. I am from a generation that bought millions of Pet Rocks. I know of what I speak. If something or someone is the big thing, it/they will be evaluated for substance.
Particularly people. Celebrities, to be exact.

Celebrity is defined in many ways but I have a simple one; being famous for the sake of being famous. Missing from this, or any existing definition of celebrity, is the word Merit. With some noteworthy exceptions, I am decidedly anti-celebrity. Actors, Social Media Influencers (what a joke), Youtubers and TikTokkers are meaningless to me. All of them aimed to become famous. They were willing to do anything or compromise anything about themselves to achieve notoriety. It’s not their fault, because they all knew that there would be throngs of conformist sheep to devour their wares.
Being known is one thing, being famous is quite another.
I really can’t tell you how intrigued I was when I saw a clip for the movie God Bless America. I even paid $2.99 to rent it. I struggled with it, but I couldn’t resist the fantasy. After all, who wouldn’t love the notion of a man taking on the vapid world of meaningless celebrity? A fed-up, decency-craving American certainly would.

Embrace Your Uniqueness: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I was recently asked what my last blog post would be. I had to think about it of course. I decided to write it as if I was actually well-adjusted at the time of my demise. That makes this an exercise in Creative Writing. Here goes.

Be yourself. No matter what. Then embrace it. 

That is what my final blog post would say. 

I cannot tell you how many blogs I have written about finding and understanding myself and what I stand for. I have always struggled with matters of identity. I could go on for days about my findings on this matter. Suffice to say, I showed up at the party way too late.

I’m glad I got here. However, I surely wasted an irretrievable amount of time, effort, angst, and agony in the process. I told the President of my HS reunion committee something several years ago. This was when I was asked for a quote for the newsletter. I said, “I searched high and low, far and wide for who I am. Only to realize that I was me all along.” 

I never thought I was enough. Or the right thing. Or in the right place. I don’t know why, nothing in my childhood explains it. Nobody has ever told me that I’m not good enough except me. It’s as if I placed other people’s expectations of me without their offer or permission. I think I tried to be who and what people wanted or expected. Sometimes different personas for different people or groups. 

I was big and intimidating. So I acted it. But I’m not tough nor do I want to intimidate. That didn’t work.

I was charming (to a degree) so I acted the part of Ladies Man and Playa. But I like and respect women, I didn’t even like hookups.

I was a decent artist. So I tried to emanate artsy and liberal. Turns out I’m a casual artist and I am not wired to take mushrooms and sing Kumbaya around a campfire.

I could go on. Suffice it to say that despite having varied interests and strengths, not a single one of them defines me. They are merely components of me. The day I realized that was a great day indeed. 

As much as I can parrot the tired line, “I don’t care what people think about me” I do. But not in the conventional sense. 

It matters to me that people know who I am and what I stand for. It matters to me that people know that I am a good person. Sure I want to be liked, but I have recognized that respect or appreciation is what I truly desire. 

I have found that the answer is in the company you keep. Your friends will not only understand your uniqueness. The organizations you attend meetings and events at will also appreciate it. The people you spend time with will too. They will know your quirks and pecadillos.  They will know who you really are and what you stand for.

I am the chocolate box in Forrest Gump’s lap. I come in many shapes and forms. They’re all good in their own way. If some of my pieces don’t do it for you, then leave them and enjoy another. I’m me and you never know what me you’re going to get.

Having made that bizarre statement, the overall point is my recommendation to everyone to just be yourself. If you’re not surrounding yourself with people who appreciate the particular magic you bring to the table…well then find a new circle.

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.

Top Life Lessons I’ve Learned

The subject of lessons learned in life came up the other day. I felt inspired to compose a list of some of the most important life lessons that I have learned. Oh, there are so many. And I’m sure I’m not done learning more. Still, it was interesting timing as I am now evaluating almost everything in my life in the interest of self-improvement.

I have learned to be nice always. Some people are barely hanging on and it’s better to be decent to people. Do so until you can’t or the deserving of such treatment fades. We can’t always fix people but we can take comfort if we at least try to help them.

I have learned that it’s not always necessary to be right. Knowing you are and keeping it to yourself is better than trying to prove it.

When reacting to situations, take a deep breath. Act on your second instinct if you must. Words hurt and impressions matter. As the Stoics say, it’s not what happens, it’s how you react to it.

I have learned that it’s true about the fool. Better to be silent and thought a fool than speak and confirm it. On that topic, ears don’t work when jaws are moving. 

I’ve learned to forgive without resolution and to not wait for apologies that aren’t coming. Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. 

If you aren’t invited, don’t go. Nobody should be treated as an afterthought. There was a time when I would allow myself to do this, but I have learned my worth since.

Listen to my gut. It is always right. I remember situations that went south. Relationships that failed are also clear in my mind. I can vividly recall disregarding a stern warning from my gut. I am now keenly aware of my inner voice and plan to follow it.

Finally, as experience has taught me, I need to talk less. While I come from a gregarious and friendly place, I overshare and generally say too much. Maybe it stems from insecurity or trying too hard to make someone like me. Regardless, I’m not engaging in either of those ever again. From now on, my focus will be to listen more and talk less.

I have learned to accept my appearance. I have terrible body issues. I look ok for a person whose body has gone through what mine has. I need to accept that I have limitations to how “fit” I can be. I need to focus on doing what I can and being consistent. I can’t continue to dive behind sofas every time someone points a camera at me. I am depriving the people who care about me of a potential memory. Because one day all that will remain of me are pictures.

There are so many more, but there isn’t enough bandwidth to accommodate all of it.