Tag: mental health

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.

Dream drinking

I dreamed that I drank alcohol last night. It’s one of several times that I have done that. I want to make nothing out of it, yet I remember it vividly. That is unusual for my dreams of late.

I go through phases where I remember my dreams, but for the most part, I usually don’t. I always remember the ones in which I dream that I slipped up. I have a strong inclination to do better. I don’t want to fall back into old patterns. It seems this desire has permeated my subconscious as well.

The unusual aspect of last night’s nocturnal revelation, and the others, is that I didn’t consciously decide to drink alcohol. This realization came after the fact. Instead, I realized this after the fact. I don’t need to apply much psychoanalysis. That realization merely illustrates how familiar my relationship with alcohol was. It’s no secret. And realizing that just increases my resolve.

There is no question that I have thoughts about drinking. Not to resume my former pace, but to have the “casual” drink. For example, my oldest son asked if I would make an exception and have a Toast at his recent wedding. I chose not to. It was a non-issue. I suppose I could have, because I really don’t believe that I am an Alcoholic, have one or two. I was never really a fall-down drunk, so the likelihood of devolving into dangerous behavior is unlikely. I’ve said before that my drinking never took me to levels that many Alcoholics have. I had a habit, a troubling dependency. But not an addiction.

I have just completed 10 months alcohol-free. I avoid the word Sober because I indulge in weed, medicinally and occasionally recreationally. That is known in AA circles as “California Sober,” and it is a hot issue in the Recovery community. People in Recovery can be a bit militant in their approach. We do not see eye to eye on the matter. I don’t ask their opinion on it, and they can shove theirs in the orifice of their choice. The goal of AA, and my goal in particular, was to stop consuming alcohol. I did that. That’s why I rarely go to a meeting.

I feel good. I’m lighter. I’m physically fit. I’m happier and healthier in mind, body and spirit. My life has done nothing but improve since I started this journey. So I may continue to slip up and accidentally order a drink in my dreams. But in reality, I am past the cravings, temptations, and associations. Why fuck it up now? Even I can’t self-sabotage this.

Or are those famous last words?

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.

    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.

    Easier said than done

    Who among you has ever grabbed a piece of paper late at night? Specifically, at 11:30 PM, and frantically scrawled a list of everything they hate about themselves?
    Me. That’s who. I watched a beloved character from a favorite show deliver a scene-stopping line. “I am SO tired of my own Bullshit!”, she said. That was my reaction. I began to log my own Bullshit. It wasn’t hard to do; I had a working list in mere seconds.

    I’m not loving what I came up with. I shouldn’t love it, it’s the harsh truth. If I am to continue on my constant path of self-improvement, these character flaws must be addressed. They might seem paltry, insignificant, or even false to some. It’s about me, and I can’t be concerned about it making sense to others. In fact, that is number one on my list; stop caring what others think.

    I stop short of calling myself full of shit. But I can be a bit hypocritical when I want to. I’m the first person to say that I don’t care about what people think of me. I wish it was true, but it isn’t. I care greatly about what my peers think of me. Not based on matters of image, but how I am perceived and understood. In particular I care about my character. This is an important distinction; reputation is what people think of you, but character is who you actually are. And there lies the issue. I feel that people don’t know me for who I am and what I bring to the table. If I feel that someone doesn’t grasp my intentions or the reasons behind my actions I will feel misunderstood. I hate misunderstandings. My quest to avoid misunderstandings causes me a great deal of anxiety and duress. I consider myself a genuine, good-natured and well-intentioned man. It kills me when I am perceived otherwise.

    I suppose that this revelation opens another portal of personal struggle. I also have a sincere expectation of honesty and communication. I am not so concerned with events as I am the cause. When someone wrongs me I need to know why. My recent breakup is a perfect example. After several very enjoyable dates, I noticed compatibility was evident. Despite this, a woman I was dating suddenly told me that she can’t see me anymore. A family matter had come up and she couldn’t do “the boyfriend thing”. It was only a few dates so it wasn’t crushing to me. But it didn’t make sense to me. I have been obsessing over this for over a week. I am outraged that I didn’t get an explanation for how someone can just shut someone off like that. Especially when things were going so well. But she doesn’t owe me that. It would have been considerate and very helpful to me. It would ease the cycle of overthinking and inevitable self-blame. But I’m not going to get my explanation. I’m just going to have to deal with that. She’s not me. I can’t expect “me” in others. Because I want it does not mean that I can have it. I need to come to grips with this.

    Easier said than done. But worrying about shit that I can’t change is also on the list of BS that I need to stop.

    Now all I have to do is reckon with what I came up with.