Tag: mental health

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.

Enough with the BS

I need to reconcile myself. I need to get my life in order. Overall, I have a pretty great life. But it’s time to tackle some things about myself if I’m ever going to achieve happiness.
Happiness, what is it even? At a cursory glance, I am relatively happy. At least for moments when I am enjoying my favorite activities. Riding my motorcycle gives me great joy, as it often includes good times with great friends. Moments with family make me happy. I am fortunate to have close and meaningful relationships with my children. My Masonic activities are my source of fulfillment and meaningful interaction with others.
Those are moments of happiness. Unfortunately, I spend more time alone than I do partaking in any of the above. I am generally happy around my circle.

However, when I am alone, I am decidedly unhappy.

I used to hate being alone. I now look forward to it. Most assuredley, this is due to my waning ability to tolerate people for extended periods. I like people a great deal, but I have a decreasing tolerance for the antics of many people today. I look forward to retreating to my sanctuary, my “Fortress of Solitude after a long day of peopling. I breathe a sigh of relief when I walk through the door. Getting home is my favorite part of the day.
Until the demons come.

The negative thoughts come at night. It’s unlikely it’s a coincidence that it happens when I get high. Weed has become a regular aspect of my routine. I need to wind down at night, to put the anxiety at bay. Weed is the only thing that works. I will have to deal with the unfortunate side effect of analyzing every aspect of my life, good or bad (mostly bad) for hours on end. For a while, these episodes caused me much duress. But I have come to realize that weed causes my brain to tell me the truth. And that truth is that I have some things to work on. I have come to value the insights gained during these sessions.

I heard a line on TV the other night that reached out of the screen and throttled my neck. “I’m sick of my own bullshit.” An older version of myself would have run from this harsh reality. It caught me at the right moment, at that moment I was indeed sick of my own Bullshit.

I expect to explore that Bullshit in depth.

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.

The good place

I am in a very good place right now. Almost everything seems to be going in the right direction.

My health is good, which is certainly most important. I made a very good decision choosing sobriety in January. I have been sober for 6 months and the blessings outweigh any negatives. What are the negatives, you ask?
I have little difficulty being around alcohol in social settings. Unlike many alcoholics, which I’m not sure I was one, I am not concerned about relapsing. My problem with alcohol was habitual. I feel good about my decision and that keeps the yearning at bay. But it has affected my (perceived?) level of fun when out in the world. Almost every activity I participate in involves booze. I never recognized how much time passes when imbibing. It’s a lot. So hanging at the bar is not really a choice because there are only so many cokes I can drink. Frankly, I get bored. But in the big picture, who cares?
Another negative is that some people think that I, and other non-drinkers, are judging them. Of course, everyone knows that this is pure insecurity about their own consumption. A non-drinker is threatening to some. The truth is, while I have made observations about the effects of intoxication, I’m not judgmental about it. I merely think, “Hmm, did I look like/do that when I was drinking?” So while it can be argued that I’m not having as much fun, I just need to remind myself of the benefits of my newfound sobriety.

In December, my Doctor informed me that I was “pre-diabetic”. That alarmed me to my core. I weighed about 237 pounds at the time. I am a fairly muscular person, but not particularly fit. My doctor had previously told me that he wasn’t concerned about my weight because of my muscular foundation. Yet, my weight was the cause of the Pre-diabetes. This contributed to my abstaining from alcohol.
6 months later I weigh 212 lbs. Exactly 25 pounds down. I am working out regularly and am seeing muscle definition I haven’t seen in years. Everything feels better. I am thrilled with it.

I feel like I have a new lease on life. More later…

90 days

I have reached 90 days of Sobriety. For full disclosure, I haven’t entirely given up my nightly indulgence of the “electric lettuce” (weed). This habit makes me what is called “California Sober.” A distinction without a difference.

90 days ago I decided that I wanted to quit drinking. For the past 90 days I have been able to do that.

It was a daunting yet good decision to stop. It’s been a struggle at times but overall my life has improved. Physically, I’ve lost a few inches and feel great. My lab work has been excellent. There is a (small) spring in my step.
Mentally, I am moving in the right direction. Now sober, I have one less anxiety to ruminate. The mental fixation. The self-flagellation that weighed so heavily on me for more years is gone. The fixation was strong, I constantly thought about booze; what type?, do I have enough?, what time should I start? I really enjoy not having that conversation with myself. This raises a question, do I think about not drinking now as I did about drinking before?

Maybe, but it’s a good trade.

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.

Traits of Lonely People: A Personal Reflection

I previously discussed the topic of loneliness. I started it by recalling a conversation I once had with a friend. He had mentioned that the ability to go out to restaurants and bars alone is rare. That is to say, without caring about the impression of being lonely. He further went on to say that it indicates security, confidence, and self-awareness. Now, I do have a well-documented penchant for self-awareness. I do know exactly what and who I am.
But I am not confident or secure. I ended the blog by stating that I am not lonely, I am merely good at being alone.
As it often happens with me, inexplicably, I then came across an article online that addressed my issue du jour. The article was about the traits of lonely people.

Despite my insistence that I not lonely I perused the article. It’s a bad habit of mine, to read articles that are likely clickbait and fluff. These articles list symptoms of disorders. Gullible readers then try to plug their own traits in to see if they fit. If I may skip ahead, this one fit.
The traits, according to the author, of a lonely person are as follows:

Struggle with vulnerability.
Oh, hell yes. I don’t just enjoy my own company. I choose to be alone as opposed to opening myself up to getting hurt again. I may take the leap again in romance. Still, it will take a lot to trust once more.

Overanalyze social situations.
I want to be liked, accepted, welcomed, appreciated and missed when I’m not around. Unfortunately, that would need that I engage socially. You can easily recognize, through earlier posts, that I have an active social life. I do indeed. But the amount of effort expended while later analyzing (overthinking) every goddamn word, facial expression and conversation is exhausting. My acute anxiety causes me to be concerned about making social mistakes. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. I worry about making verbal gaffes or saying an inappropriate comment so intensely that I inevitably commit one. Not always but frequently enough. This is anything but confident and secure. It can lead to my not wanting to go out amongst people.

Highly sensitive.
I have had the word “sensitive” applied to me far too often. Not unjustified at all. I am sensitive. I experience things powerfully. I take things seriously. I care deeply. I have thin skin. I can look you in the face and tell you that I don’t care what people think of me. But I do. Quite a lot. Not for superficial reasons, I care about the impression I leave on people. But I have been told to “lighten up” more than I care to admit.

Don’t believe they are worthy of love.
I do grapple with this. I question whether my turn has passed. I wonder if I have the qualities to be a worthy partner. Further, I debate if I bring anything to the table. Am I active enough? Do I have enough money? Do I have annoying habits? Long story short, am I datable? Finally, do I deserve another chance at love? This is often debated in the halls of my mind.

Insist on doing things alone.
Yes and no. I have always been self-reliant. Except for mechanical tasks, which I suck at, I don’t ask for help. I hate asking anyone for anything for fear of “putting them out.” Also, I hate criticism. I’m getting better at distinguishing between negative and constructive criticism. I am not proud of my lack of ability to fix things. I choose to not reveal it if possible. I’m not sure this is a sign of loneliness.

Active imaginations.
If an active imagination is a trait of lonely people, maybe I’m not. My mind shows imagination actively in limited ways. Often it is limited to imagining why someone doesn’t like me. This is anxiety and it sucks. I hope I can get control over that trait someday. It is crippling and will continue to hold me back in life.

Over Apologizing.
Over-apologizing is a trait of a neurotic or insecure person. I do not believe it has anything to do with loneliness. That’s not to say that I don’t do it. I do it because I’m a neurotic and anxious person. I can be so in a room full of trusted friends as well as while alone. I know in my heart that an apology should be sincere and a one-off. Over-apologizing is seeking forgiveness (if it is pending) to make you one feel better. I am getting better at avoiding it. It’s part of accountability and acceptance of situations.

Self-deprecating sense of humor.
This has nothing to do with being alone. It has everything to do with being comfortable in your own skin. There is nothing more damaging than saying terrible things to yourself about you. Your mind can’t distinguish the difference. I am guilty of doing this. I have for years. The reasons are obvious, I am not comfortable in my own skin. But I don’t lack self-esteem. A person who has little to no self-esteem that makes self-deprecating comments is very uncomfortable in their own skin. That may be the reason they are alone and/or lonely.

In conclusion, there is some meat to this article. But a good amount of these traits are suffered by all types of people, not just lonely ones. Taken in its entirety, I am a bit surprised at how many of the above do apply to me.



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.