mind habit

 I have been watching Hannibal. Still on season one. It's funny how our society is obsessed with murder, serial killers, violence, and war. We do a good job of packaging it as fantasy, but there is some underlying reality that isn't discussed as reality. It's funny how the mind works to deceive itself. 

I was rereading old blog entries from when I first started this ting. Almost a little over 18 years ago.

I remember the situations, and yet don't. I have memories of memories. The story has changed, and I am not sure if I was covering up the reality for the audience, or if I have been deceiving myself since. The mind is funny that way. My mind has been telling the same stories for so long, that I am not sure if I am capable of telling another. Thats the funniest part. I know that it is possible. I know that I could withdraw some cash tomorrow and start a new life elsewhere. I know that I could pick up the phone and call someone and end my loneliness for a time. I know that I could write my book and get lost in that fantasy. I know I could do my case notes tonight. I could go out and make a snow angel.  I could do a million things tonight, including kill myself or someone else. All of these possibilities, but my mind has been saying the same story for so long that I won't. I will sit here. I will probably go to sleep in an hour or two. I'll wake up tomorrow and tell the same story, not because I can't tell another, but just out of habit. 

It's difficult because I think about the times when I have done things that were "out of character." And how they didn't end up better... not that they were so wrong, but they felt like I meandered in the wrong direction. Thats what it feels like... and yet, because I have gotten so good at telling myself this same old story, I am bored with it. I am lonely. I am hopeless. 

When I was in Baños in Ecuador, a guy tried to get me to bungee jump off a bridge. A bunch of people were doing it, but it wasn't my story. So I didn't do it. I went for a long bike ride with the dude, which was also partially out of character, and I ended up ruining my glasses. I couldn't see for several days and had to leave Banos early because of it. I didn't bring Jesse home for three reasons, A) it was out of character, I liked her boldness, but it didn't fit with the me that I am here, B) we were headed in different directions, C) I felt like she didn't know how to care for me...  but reading old messages, I am shocked at how much love was there, even after we broke up. We might have been codependent, but she says Hi still. M felt like me indulging in a side journey that I hoped desperately would become my new path. It was what I wanted my life to be like... minus the whole, this woman is incredibly emotionally immature and I can't trust her thing. It was out of character for me to have such strong gut reactions that it wasn't safe, and to not listen. In some ways I felt like I was drinking poison from the very first, but I couldn't stop myself. Convinced myself that maybe I'd been wrong the whole time, and poison was the right way of being. 

Anyway... the mind is telling me that I have spent three days alone, and will spend the next three alone as well. At any moment this could change if I wanted it to. But my mind is telling me that there isn't any other path and that when I carve my own I simply get off track.  

It's so weird... its almost like my mind is telling me that things can be good, can be perfect as long as I don't stray... but it leaves me so isolated that my "perfect" isn't worth the price. 

It's climbing up the mountain alone. You get a great view and think of all the people you wish were with you. And then climb down alone. Is that a metaphor for a life well lived? Why does my mind make this story?

I guess I'll go back to Hannibal and think about serial killers all night. 

Some thoughts before I take a nap because I am bored.

 1)  I have this feeling that things are shifting, someone is getting engaged, someone pregnant, someone dying, something is going to happen... it feels like the world is turning.

2) I wrote this poem a long time ago about how sometimes my empathic joy and sorrow is stronger than my actual feelings. I think it's funny how I can sit and delight in someone else more than just experiencing my own stuff. And it is mine, its my body experiencing the ups and downs that I am associating with the other. Sometimes I even delight in other's struggle, because I am aware that it could be a changing point, a revelation. But maybe I am addicted to that, getting all my feels from others. Maybe that's what makes me so dependent. 

3) I know I have written about this before, but I had this very strong distinctive feeling of loss of status today. My brother asked me to check on the cats when they are out of town. Everyone is doing something, and I am the cat sitter. I know I could make things happen, but I don't know that I want to. Its kind of back to the third wheel thing. My Dad made a very gloomy joke about how I was preparing for when my parents die (being home alone for Christmas). It occurred to me, that my status in the family is not secure. I know that part of the loss in the relationship with M, was status of having a family. Quarantine has really made it clear, I am alone because everyone else is moving forward. With M, I was looking forward to feeling like my family was essential, that they were something to gather around and that by association (I guess), that I was part of something bigger than just being the guy who hangs around. The unnecessary.  My ego needs a purpose. I think part of the reason I've been so angry with her is because I was relying on her to move me forward in life. I definitely feel like I've gotten as far as I can go alone. Sure I'll be successful at my job... might travel alone some more. Might even have some creative projects. But nothing new. Family was new. It was a launch into a different me, and I was willing to sacrifice just about everything for it. But I guess... thats not the way it works. I am still me after all. 

J offered the status to me. She wasn't proposing a relationship, she was proposing status. Thats why I said no. I think it's funny to watch her videos on insta, to see her and her boyfriend create a life together, almost as if it is entirely a show. I am sure there is real life behind those clips, but memories are made and displayed. Status matters I guess. M and I didn't have a single photo anywhere on social media. I was trying to be cautious of her status... 

Alan Watts - The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Christmas blues

 

I think if I calculated the ratio of Christmases that have been with and without melancholy, I'd probably trend towards the blue side. I mean I do trend that way on the regular don't I?

Kind of... I am a melancholy sort of cheesy. 

I use to write in my journals about all the things that made me sad on Christmas. The fear of expectations and disappointment, my divided family, the fact that I would never be able to tell people how much they meant to me, the realization that I was grateful and yet, cynical all the same? 

We used to go to my Grandpa's and sit in that cold old church. Always feeling out of place, even in the spiritual spaces. Surrounded by family and not fitting in. Thinking of all the shameful unforgivable things I'd done. Reveling just a bit in the glorious freedom of humanity.

Christian Christmas to me isn't a joyful holiday. It's bittersweet. The birth of G-d in sacrificial form? G-d breaking the covenant because we couldn't live up to it?  G-d trying to show us a new way, knowing full well how many of us are doomed to a life of constant sin... I dunno. I am no longer that kind of christian...

The festivities? the capitalist holiday?  I hate shopping for gifts. It's all anxiety producing. I'd rather buy people things when I see them, and my family is so wealthy that we don't have any needs. The gift of a quality time, an activity, that would make more sense, but in quarantine? 

I wanted to forget the whole thing this year.  At work we did "secret snowman" which is funny because my coworkers are constantly using the phrase "come to Jesus moment" seemingly without any issue... (every time I kind of cringe at the lack of critical reflection, but half of them also use the word "bitch" without thinking too, or maybe as a badge of honor?) Anyway. It worked out, and there were some moments of fun, but mostly it was anxiety provoking. I don't know how to respond when someone gives me a gift, nor do I know how to be confident in giving a gift. I'd rather buy something and slide it into your dresser or into the cupboards, or place it on the bookshelf or the table and just let it be part of the surroundings. 

But it's Christmas Eve, and I have no plans and no one to see. And if I am honest, its kind of painful, like a scratch, a paper cut on the heart. It's not that anyone else is doing anything. My parents are leaving town. I am cat sitting. My friends are burned out  and isolating (like me) or have families. My sibs are with friends or family. I don't feel like reaching out. I don't feel like caretaking. I was thinking about my Dad who lost his mother on Christmas Eve 30-31 years ago?  I am sure he has a momentary ache, a thought or two. I have no desire to call him and ask. Who is holding my heart?

Im gonna watch the grinch, and maybe my heart won't be too small. Thats my plan for the evening. 

I was rereading old messages last night. I tried to give up porn for a few weeks... bad time to do so. But I was reading old messages and realized how much more some people have loved me than M did. And how weird that is. Like, I was ready to spend my life with this person who didn't even like me, but not with these people who genuinely care about who I am, who know me, and want good for me? WTF

How did I deceive myself sooooo bad? I mean I know I am desperate, I am super fucking desperate, but why am I so hooked on this lady? she is an idol...  

And yet... I loved who I got to be. Loved having a partner. Loved thinking of a future that could be real, and less hiding. But you don't create that future by practicing deception. Good lesson for the future Mike. Don't fake it till you make it. Just make it. 

Breathe

 It's nearly 1 am on a Sunday morning. I am listening to Billy Breathes, been listening to the album on repeat while playing computer games. I get this weird feeling like I want to listen to something else, except I don't. I want to hit play again. I don't know if its because it is easier or because there are little moments throughout the album that just sound so sweet, so soothing, so comforting in the knowledge that I can have them again and again. 

It's nearly 1 am and I am lonely. It was about 3 pm when it first hit. I put it off. I played computer games and listened to music. Made dinner. Scrolled through instagram and facebook for an hour or two. Watched some comedy.  It's nearly 1 am and I should be sleeping, but it was a chill day and I am lonely. 

Thinking about old relationships. Wondering why it's so hard to find someone I am interested in, questioning why I don't even have a crush... and of course, its a pandemic, and I only see my coworkers and students... but it feels very dissatisfying. Feels kind of hopeless. I looked over old messages, and found that I am definitely an anxiously attached person. Tiptoeing around all the time, totally unsure of myself. 

I've had some more socializing with coworkers this past week. It's kind of funny to realize that adults are really just big middle schoolers. We are all insecure and awkward. I watched my coworkers have conversations that felt very much like high school or college, and then realized that in my head I was trying to figure out where my stories fit in that mix, to fit in. And then I realized, I am not sure I want to.  I miss out on a million opportunities to be part of groups, but do I actually want to connect over these thing?  Clubbing? Drugs and alcohol? Reality TV?  None of these things matter to me, why would I get involved in the drama? And yet, I am attracted to their honesty and openness. I am drawn to people who say "fuck you this is me, love me."  because I don't present myself that way, I say "Sorry, this is who I am, I hope you can put up with it."  Literally I see these phrases come up in my messages to exes... its kind of pathetic and also exactly who I have been. 

One of my students says I am a child or an old man. I am.

We have a break coming up. I am annoyed that I have to use PTO, even when the kids won't be in programming. Might hang with some of these coworkers, create a new clique? Probably see some old friends. Go for a walk more often? Might go into work and do some stuff just to have something to do. 

The loneliness is rough. But I am not yet up for changing my entire life just for a tiny possibility... I think there is a lot of disappointment built into my life, from trying things and it leading me places, but never the place I actually want.  Maybe all this secretive yearning is the thing that is pushing people away?   No, it's probably my aloofness, followed by massive anxious insecurity. 

"Come waste your time with me."

More existential

 

The balance between environmental impact and the freedom to choose your own response, is a difficult line for me. I find it comes up in work all the time. I imagine "if we just did _______" we would be setting kids up for success. I know that environment and setting the scene can be important. I see it all the time. That being said, it isn't the only issue, and in trying to remove unnecessary barriers, we often just create a different obstacle. Responsible planning can only get you so far. Then it becomes the other person's choice.  This is often the great issue I have in family therapy, seeing parents who expect more of their children than of themselves. "If they would just change, I would be happy." I of course get lost in this pattern too, if my clients are doing well, I feel proud of my work. If they are doing poorly, I worry I am doing something wrong. Its a big relational mess, and very easy to get lost in playing out your own drama, EG. trying to save the kids to save yourself, or getting all of your meaning in the work. 

I am not sure there is a right answer for the balance here. I think it's more about holding these factors with a critical eye and juggling them. I think that is the human experience. 

Sometimes my supervisor pushes me on personalizing stuff inappropriately, it's a great reminder, and I often bring up situations that I know are hitting me different because of that. I don't tend to bring up the ones that I am not nervous about, and the ones I am nervous about are the ones that I know I am personalizing, questioning my response, not necessarily the clinical road forward -though I do sometimes need help with that too. 

-I think it says more about my lack of support in my own life and lack of getting meaning from other things than about my professionalism. I don't take her pushback as a criticism of my character, I take it for how it is intended, to support my growth and boundaries and so that I do good work without imposing my values/beliefs on the client. Often enough, I am doing good work, but questioning my internal motivations for it, and that's why I bring it up. 

But then at night I question my balance, my true beliefs. Do I believe my students are resilient? Yes, but do I fear that they aren't? Yes. Am I always able to tell which I am operating on in the moment, no. I need mirrors to do so. I need people to remind me that my suicidal client isn't in the hospital because I did or didn't do something. I need them to remind me that my client who is doing well, made the choice to do so and it wasn't about my cajoling and manipulating or making the perfect scene. 

How much is my own personal work interfering in the work of the clients? I don't know. Sometimes I lose myself.  Sometimes I act in fear. Sometimes I am caught off guard by the degree to which we are all suffering and deluding ourselves, and then a moment of clarity happens and I respond with worry that we are 10 steps behind where we "should" be. 

It's difficult to reconcile it all. 

I watched a funny video about introverts tonight and felt less shame around all of my avoiding tactics. But I am also very aware that I am not really moving forward in a lot of areas of life - or it feels that I am not. I suppose this mirrors the larger society, we are in a time of stagnation if not outright decline. 

I think about how for many years my family reached out to me, and I half heartedly responded. Now I am wondering why I don't hear from them more often. I think about how many of my friendships have fallen by the way side over the past 10 years. How I can name dozens of people I used to see daily/weekly and now haven't seen in years. I think about how some of these people were good for me, even though I didn't always follow through. I wasn't a very good friend, and it made me want to be less of one. I think about how others gave me a purpose, but I didn't feel they were there for me, and so I pulled away.  I think about how my interests have narrowed so profoundly, almost like a researcher in Grad School who has a single tiny topic and nothing else to talk about.  I am that...  but my topic is humanity, and people find that surprisingly tedious or vulnerable. 

I fell asleep at my desk, then dragged myself to bed around 7ish. Woke up at 10. It is now 1:20 AM. 

I have a lot of work to do, but for some reason this existential stuff seems to give me permission to step back. 

I woke up and missed Antigua and San Cristobal. I missed sitting in a colonial city, and just existing in the heat. Eating tacos. Not worrying about responsibilities. 

I miss writing, poetry and stories. I am forgetting my characters names. Forgetting the imprint they once had on me. Maybe I won't return to it?  Maybe I am gathering more stories and ideas.  I don't know. The writing had become nothing but editing. My imagination wouldn't push the story further except in little bits in the middle of the night. But that doesn't create a chapter. Sitting in a coffee shop and just writing until there are pages creates the chapter. Then the editing a million times makes it something worth reading. 

Fuck I miss life before quarantine. It felt more laid back, more space to exist. 

Lately I have been wondering why I have to be at a computer all the time... like I am avoiding sitting with it. Like I am afraid of existing. I think I am spending ridiculous amounts of time trying to drown out my mind with entertainment. Last night when I was going to sleep I did a few body scans and realized that I hadn't just sat in my body in a long time. Hadn't exercised other than walks. 

I dunno... more and more cut off. Feels like I am lost in the matrix.

Making meaning of suffering

 Of course because I was feeling good all afternoon I had to give myself a test. 

I was reviewing the emails and texts of the breakup with M. One of the things that bothered me so much at the time was that it felt like a missed opportunity, it felt like she was saying over and over "if only..." while I was saying "but I am willing, and you said no." It was this weird mindfuck that left me feeling more and more frustrated, anxious and ashamed. The longer it went on, the more it felt like she was projecting on me. She would say "You weren't willing to talk" while writing brief emails, while I was more than willing to talk and she was saying "I don't want to process with you." She was saying "I couldn't manage your anxiety and balance." While routinely saying she was dealing with boundary issues in her own life -that I had nothing to do with, and that was the reason she couldn't say more. She was saying "you gave up, you left." when she was the one who broke up with me. The gaslighting, which I only could recognize at the time as her "trying to make a meaning of the situation." left me questioning my own reality. The reality I experienced was that she was running away when things got tough, that she wasn't communicating. But the story she made was that -I did that (as did her ex, and ex before that who I now recognize were probably being gaslit as well).

It left me angry, and still does in a way that it is hard to describe. It feels like someone isn't willing to take responsibility for their own shit, but it's someone you love, so you want to give them every opportunity to do it, and no matter how many times you offer the option... they choose not to, leaving you heart broken again and again. 

She said, "You don't believe that you are enough." and I agree. I didn't believe in myself, because when I called her out on what I was experiencing, she denied my experience. Denied that she was flirting. Denied that she was pulling away. Denied that she was ignoring my feelings. Denied that I loved her despite my willingness to demonstrate it. I was told over and over that my experience was inaccurate, while she was doing the thing she would say she wasn't doing. So I questioned myself. I still do. 

I read these emails and say "if only I had worded this sentence better, maybe..." and it's like... "dude, she was probably already dating the next guy." (something she denied) There was nothing I could have done better. If a person doesn't love you, they don't love you. If they are scared of working through things with you. If they aren't willing to work it out, no matter how much you give, they aren't your person. She wasn't my person. 

When I was in college, my college therapist (very brief)  said that to me"Becky didn't leave you because of porn, she left you because she doesn't love you enough to be with you." 

Done. Fuck the feeling of love, is the person willing to act? I have broken up with a few friends and a few lovers. I wasn't willing to act, even though I loved them. Even though I was ashamed of leaving them. I wasn't willing to act in love. It wasn't because I hated them. It wasn't because I disliked them in anyway. It was because I couldn't see myself continuing to love them by being with them. 

Becky and M (and many others in my life), didn't love me enough to be with me. 

This is what I have to work with. It's the suffering that I have experienced, and will experience, until I can learn from it. It doesn't mean they hate me, wish to hurt me, dislike me in any way. It means they couldn't seem themselves continuing to love me if they stayed. So they left. Good for them. 

Same with my parents divorce (minus the affair which this whole thing triggers in me).  

I have been trying to regain my sense of self ever since. I go through waves, just like I did before I was with her. I go through waves in life. But making meaning of an experience of suffering that doesn't feel like it has to happen just sucks.  She could have said "Mike, you're right I am falling for this dude at my work. I am sorry, it's not your fault, I just see myself doing better with him."  And I could have said "but what about..." and she would have said "Yeah, thank you for that. Again, this isn't about you. I am making this choice for me." And I could have been angry and hurt, and rejected, but I wouldn't have spent all that time wondering ...if I just say it this way, maybe she'll finally hear my heart, or if I just behave differently. Because I would have recognized, oh she isn't interested in my heart. There is no "winning" except to move on. Questioning isn't the point anymore. 

But it has been for me... questioning what I did, and how I could have, and what went wrong... has been the search for meaning, and made the meaning in itself. It gave me new drama to review. A new function to get through the day. I began a relationship with our breakup, instead of a new relationship. Not that I have anyone in mind. But that's what it has been. That's what my brain does, creates relationships where they don't exist. I've been in love with the drama, been in conflict with it because I was bored and wasn't sure what else to do. 

I think I know that the meaning of these mistakes is that I can't enter into a caretaking relationship if I want it to last. I think I have gained a lot of knowledge of how hard it is to work with people who won't accept reality... and it has served me well in work. But I haven't put it into action in relationships yet... and so the meaning of the suffering hasn't gotten to be fully tested. I haven't moved forward -I am still trying to figure out how. Even though I know 50 millions ways, none of them seem right.  

So I stay in this relationship with my hurt and anger, my envy and the grief I have over this ghost. 

Frankl

 Reading man's search for meaning (I know, I should have read it by now). 

Finally getting to the sections on logotherapy, which I think I practice even though I haven't read all that much about it (just excerpts). I think my conceptualization of people is so inline with his theory that when I see people getting trapped in other stuff it really bums me out. Like defense mechanisms and addictions, depression, anxiety etc. It is why I feel very annoyed with our culture all the time which doesn't emphasize meaning other than what can be bought and sold, humans as meaningless. Productivity rather than responsible growth. And yes, I get very much caught up in my own bullshit too, and that is why it bothers me so much. 

I was thinking though, that I am more in line with his hypothesis that it is existential dynamics, a search for how to live in a meaningful way, rather than just simply anxiety. I want to take responsibility and make good choices with the life I have been given, and I am not always sure what to choose -thats where my anxiety comes from. But his reframing is helpful, not me getting stuck asking what is the meaning of life, but life asking what meaning I will make of it. Flipping the viewpoint. Saying that life has given me a set of circumstances and I am unique in my ability to respond -this goes hand and hand with that spiritual concept of a soul contract. You are here for a reason, don't question the framework, respond to it. Sort of the act wisely and then feel/think about it. Rather than the dig yourself a feeling/thinking hole and then try to choose. 

When I think of the things I am proud of, it is because I felt inline with the signals of the universe, felt that I was fulfilling my meaning. When I think of the things that bring me shame, it is usually because I veered from that path. The relationships that hurt, however, are the places where I am still in tension... what if my purpose is taken advantage of? I should feel proud of giving... but I don't, I feel wounded. I feel despair over the losses, and great worry about the other person not fulfilling their own purpose. 

In fact, sometimes I worry that some of us have the purpose to disrupt. To be the "bad guy." in people's lives, specifically to challenge. In some ways that thought gives me some contentedness, a rationalization of an unfortunate situation.  The homeless beggar. The disabled person. The bully. The tyrant. Maybe they are there to support our purposes, challenge us in our growth, the same way that children challenge parents to grow.  Or maybe that is just a rationalization, the same as the colonizer or slave owner or prison guard justifies their purpose. 

Is it power, meaning, survival?  who knows. 

Some things fuel me, others cause me to feel stuck.  

More thoughts another time. The sun is setting and I have a need of blankets. 

Holiday weekend

 

On the way to Minneopa State Park, Rachel said she found it curious that I was so anxious about being around people. She said people like me, delight in my awkwardness. In my head I was full of excuses for why that isn't true. My loneliness being first and foremost, but only gave examples of food, and how inside I lose steam quick and have to leave social gatherings. It was interesting though. A check in. Maybe the stories I tell myself are all wrong. Maybe I have chosen to remove myself from people and they have all wanted me back. It just doesn't feel that way. 

I have to remind myself of what I am grateful for. 

The other night I went to thanksgiving. I'd spent the day feeling lonely, or rather feeling like I was missing someone critical. I was replaying all the arguments. It didn't help that it was such a gray dreary day. 

But when I got to my Dad's house, it was warm and inviting. They made a fire because I told them it'd be good to be outside. I wore my mask. No one else did. We played the same old games -the ones I used to protest in self righteousness. They used derogatory language, and people drank. But it wasn't horrible. It was nice. It was nice to be included, even if I was holding my tongue from the potential arguments. Even if my siblings don't really know what I do with my life. It was nice to have food and desserts I could count on. It was nice to be part of something. 

We went to the State park today. Probably something I wouldn't do on my own, or even invite someone to do, though I should! because I always have a good time exploring. Sure it was a bit of a long drive. But it was a good time. I need to get out of my way more often and just say Yes to things. 

Then I got home and didn't know what to do with myself. I took a nap. I woke up and still didn't know what to do. Finish a book? a painting? use some of the clay your mom bought you?  Do the work you brought home -that you should have finished? no, of course not. Nothing appealed. 

I played a computer game more out of habit than desire, and then watched some youtube. I am set in my ways. I am stagnant. 

It was around 12:30 AM, and for some reason i just had to search, twitter, instagram, the Washburn website and then back to facebook. She doesn't work there anymore. Is she a stay at home mom to 5 kids? yes 5. They have officially moved in together, seem to have bought a place together. Each picture or story leaves my chest with this weird warm shaking feeling. It's a mix of nausea and anger and envy and rejection and sadness. They have the life I envisioned for us. All my little worries seem to have come true. And when I stop to ask myself why she doesn't deserve that, I can only come up with because she hurt me. I don't know all these angry things I say in my head to be true after all, I only know that the way she treated me was shitty. Maybe she isn't the person she was around me. Maybe lying to me has that effect and she really did change her ways with the right person?   Or maybe it's more of a matter of time.   

But I am left with this weird shaking feeling. This desire to disconnect while I am still so ridiculously envious. And of what?  of being jealous and insecure all the time?  Of worrying I am not good enough because she doesn't invest in me?   

None of this is what I want... so why does it bother me so much to think of her having that life?

I look around my crowded lonely apartment. It's cuz I don't know what is next, don't have a dream to fulfill, or work towards. 

I am back to the place I was at before my trip to Latin America. I have a handful of friends I can call... but it doesn't mean as much as I wish it did. I have a fulfilling job, but it is draining. I have a church I could attend once quarantine lifts. But I am directionless.  

The book I wanted to write seems less meaningful than it did, because I have lost hope. I am cynical in my political beliefs and don't really give much. I am wary of the direction the world is going. Everything seems to paint the picture of the disasters that are predicted. 

I work my ass off, and see the results in some kids. Genuine growth. And in others... I don't know. I was listening to Brene Brown talk about how important it is to look at kids without shame, to just assure them they are lovable and worthwhile. Thats how I look at my students. I give them that experience over and over and over, and only question why they fight against it. I can't imagine any of them ever doing anything that would make he hate them. I can't really imagine hating anyone I've ever met in real life, only the politicians and oligarchs at a distance. 

But I am also spending a lot of time lately fantasizing about dying. It's not suicidal ideation. It's this idea that at some point I'll just not care enough to keep going, and the issue is that I don't have any counter weight anymore to balance the thought.  It's the if I get cancer or covid... does it matter question. It's the tried for 37 years, feels like 90, why then am I... 

Rachel finds it astounding that I don't understand people like me. I understand they appreciate me, but the kind of love I want doesn't seem possible these days. I have lost hope again. 

On the night of Nov 22

 

I stared at my cupboards, full of the same old stuff. I got bored. 

I went to go get food in St. Paul. On the way I drove too fast and listened to music too loudly. I guess I wanted a bit of a rush. Nothing happened. But on the way I was thinking about how boring and routine my life is, and began to sing loudly over the music to M, thanking her for lending me some meaning and purpose for a while. 

Thats what it felt like. Thats why I loved being in a relationship and what has felt so missing from my life all these years. A purpose outside of my own. I often think about why I do the things I do, the work, the friendships, my role in the family, and when I escape or do a creative project or teach or whatever... they are all pretty related.  When I was a kid I'd tell the stories of the action figures out loud, talking to myself. Same when I was drawing. I was in relationship even when I was alone. When I travelled I would think of how I would tell others what I was seeing, would explain it to them as I walked mile after mile. A million conversations in my head. Sometimes I would think of how I'd teach it. I am actually not a very good story teller. I miss the natural punchlines, emphasize the wrong parts, tell details that don't matter, forget the arc.  I share the meaning I make, the feelings. I ask questions and try to bring about understanding. But all the same, the way I have gotten through life is telling people things, relating my experience to others, if only in my head. 

When I was a child there were numerous times when I got lost, the loneliness, the pain, the feeling of being abandoned, left out, left behind, my hurt asked me to question the world and G-d, childhood depression led me to existential despair... I don't remember how old I was the first time, but I know it happened on several occasions and one of those times I ran away and found myself in church crying in the pews, asking G-d why he made the world full of such suffering, and why he blamed and judged us for doing wrong when it was so clear that we only did it out of our pain. I remember saying I'd dedicate my life to serving if he promised not to send people to hell, and I have done so. 

I've fucked up. But I return to the promise again and again. It gives my life meaning. That martyrdom kind of meaning. I've been wondering if I need to renegotiate the terms -as an adult. My child self saw the world in black and white and said to G-d don't judge the darkness, and I will try to add to the light. 

I'm not really a christian in the traditional sense anymore. I don't know that I believe in the G-d that I made that promise to. I don't know that I would serve that kind of god. But I do serve G-d still. Do seek to understand and bring light where I can. 

But it is lonely. 

When I was driving through St. Paul, I was thinking of all the nights that I rushed over to M's house after the kids had gone to bed. Or the nights when I would drive all over the city to buy her a snack or a treat. The errands I sent myself on because I wanted to make her happy or make her day just a bit easier. Wanted to share something with her.  How each little thing suddenly had more meaning than just taking care of myself. 

I've struggled with St. Paul ever since we broke up, because all of the places remind me of her. Memories come back. And yes there are other memories, but they take effort to recall, where as the ones with her were effortless. It was a vacation (a very difficult one in reality), but my mind made magic of it all -said that it was meaningful. And then suddenly the balloon was popped. The magic disappeared and I was left with all this evaporated "meaning," and forced to look at the painful reality. And further, forced to go back to my dullness, my own wary mind which already has too many unhelpful thoughts. Where to put them????

It was funny to be driving and remember how easy it was for me to be in love. It felt good to make the effort. It made me want to do things. Yes, I was still a curmudgeon and a homebody. Yes I was still anxious and I didn't go out of my way, but I did for her, would for her, at the slightest hint that she wanted it. 

That was also why it was so painful to have my love questioned... like, wow have you really not noticed that I am head over heels for you? That I spend all day thinking about you? That I go out of my way? That I sneak little things you didn't know you needed into your apartment? and clean up when you are in the shower? and take care of you when you are sick? and notice when you haven't eaten or slept or need to exercise? That I encourage you in your relationships? And plot vacations? That I think about your family and your kids as much as you do? Are you really not aware that I am totally attuned to you, cry at the parts that are hard, believe in you, know you better than you know yourself OR is it just that you don't care... and haven't made the effort back... oh shit. You haven't.    

I saw that she was entering into another relationship, pointed out the behaviors, even pointed out his... and she went "no, he doesn't like me like that."  rather than "you have nothing to worry about I love you." 

 And then she blamed me when she dumped me... and I apologized. 

Because I'd fucked up. I made someone my world... and didn't wait to make sure they wanted to be part of mine. And why did I do that?  because I was sick of mine. I was bored by it. It was getting old and I was stuck in my ways. I wanted a reason outside of the one I have always had, a reason for me. I wanted to selfishly hold on, even as I saw it failing. I wanted love so badly I was willing to ignore all the signs. 

Sometimes I still do, because I am not sure what else will fill the emptiness.   ? is that what it is?

Attached to nothing, connected to everything as the Buddhists say... but what about when you detach from everything and can't connect?  

Or in short....I need a crush.

that other thing

 Death and suicide

Some of my students deal with suicidal ideation routinely, week after week they struggle. Some attempt. Some ask for help. Some try very hard, and still it persists. It is one of the trickiest and scariest part of the job. I've been watching some videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3qBxgilmVk 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApccemGnh78

A lack of creativity, of imagination for what could go better. An alternative where life isn't as much of a struggle. I feel that. 

The pandemic exacerbates, it is a system wide external metaphor for the thing going on inside. What if things can't get better right now? Does that eliminate all possibilities forever? Does living through it, make it more or less bearable, depends on your imagination. 

I often think about the question of medical response to a cancer diagnosis. Would I? This weekend, the answer feels like a no. A year ago? probably a no. 2 years ago? probably a yes. The year before that? I don't remember. It's not that anything is particularly wrong or bad. It's just, that I feel like I give more than get, I am depleted. And I don't know how to change that. I am not even in a bad mood, I am feeling relatively good... feeling energized... but for what? So that I can give more? 

What leads to this lack of imagining a better possibility? The strain of existing without remedy of the burden?  I often have to remind my students that labeling a whole day with a mood, is too much weight to give it. I was sad that day... no you were sad for part of that day, and gave it all the weight of the world. Throughout my days, my weeks, I have moments of connectedness, of meaning, of sincere awe and joy. And I also have downtimes, loneliness, doubt, guilt and shame, fear, worry, and meaninglessness. The weight of meaning is another thing I often have to check with students about, does your suffering have meaning? Can you give it some? 

The pandemic for instance -those who buckle down have to remind themselves their sacrifice is for the greater good, not just pain. 

I am feeling lonely, but I struggle to imagine that connecting with folks would bring an end to that feeling, or would bring meaning to my existence. The connections seem paper thin in their impermanence.  I am seeing all things as impermanent, and wishing to attach very little. 

I was just walking around the lake with my Dad, we were talking about our family's disconnectedness. 

I am looking forward to a dark isolated winter. Not sure what to do about that. The last couple of weeks I started to feel more hopeful, but nothing really changed. Just perspective, and the energy shifts do make a hell of a difference. But it doesn't necessarily make life better...kna mean?

I read a quote the other day about how the hardest relationship is the healthy one after a toxic one. 

Boredom, routine and novelty

I was thinking that I am too routine... I don't go out of my way to create new experiences. I kind of do the same old thing, so there are no stories. I went to bed early last night because I was bored. I didn't read or write, or finish the paintings, or use the clay my mom bought me. 

Maybe the technology makes it harder. Too much artificial dopamine brought on by drama and what not on the computer... so I have no interest in real life, or creating my own stuff. But then also, I have no one to share it with, or experience it with. So what's the point?

Creativity for yourself is hard to maintain. 

This is more depressing than it should be. 

I am gonna go watch clips of 90 day fiancé because Jesse told me about it, and now I am struck by the drama. 

Morning

 

Waking up.

I got a massage yesterday and got super beat up. It's funny because I don't actually like that kind of massage, but the entire time I was aware of how tight I have been and how even in the moment I could feel things getting more loose. This morning I am all achy. 

My head is a certain amount of foggy this morning, my temperature is all off. It's sunny but cold. Do I need my happy light if I sit by the window? 

I was thinking about a prompt someone had written on social media, about what would the ideal holiday meal look like for you. I think it's funny because I don't actually like the holidays, I haven't really liked big gatherings or parties, or dinner parties.  How did that come about?  I think the holidays remind me of high expectations and not knowing how to manage the feels with my family. In high school and college I looked forward to parties and gatherings, but ended up taking care of other people and not always having fun myself. Most recently, my biggest dinner party experience was ruined/shifted by news I couldn't process in the moment. It feels like all my attempts to bring folks together, has led to me losing myself... so maybe it makes sense why I avoid them?  What would I want?  I would want to have all my friends and close loves join in a space and enjoy each other without drama. For people to enjoy the meal, or the game, or the music. To make art or have a creative project.  

I am often envious of friends who enjoy social gatherings, or who bring folks together in that way. My roommates used to do that all the time, and I really liked being able to be part of it, without having responsibility. I miss people. But my response to other's feelings is to try to control/help... and that doesn't work well in gatherings because at least for me, where do I go?  Where is my fun and enjoyment...

Im usually the guy who goes to a party, finds a person they genuinely want to talk to and then leaves with or without that person and spends some time winding down. Weddings are the most significant example of this. I left both James and Pete's wedding a little early because I needed the space. 

Work. 

The type of work I do requires constant vigilance against falling into traps. I over think, and over feel, and that is my issue. A lot of people remind me that my instincts are good, and I should just act. But I have the same anxiety traps as the kids, I get stuck in indecision, or second guessing. The role of therapist requires a certain amount of joining, and a certain amount of distancing, and the balance is tricky. Don't do for them, but don't allow them to stay stuck in their shit. The ideal is to create the situations in which they decide for themselves that they are ready for change, but stuff like trauma and attachment wounds can royally fuck that up. For me, I often get lost in the understanding of why people do the things they do, without remembering that having a reason doesn't make it right.  But what is right?

Family roles and the intergenerational process

I know this journal blog must read soooo repetitively. I think it's a good snap shot of my mind, how it carries away on some topics more than others. I don't think I've written a single post about sports, cars, or fashion except as a sociological study or to critique their place in society. I am guessing there are a million subjects that have never once come across these pages... no, my mind trips on relationships, growth, hurts and healing, occasionally creativity, daily life, education, society, roles, and morals. It tries to understand me, and my relation to the world. It tries to understand everyone around me, and why my heart and stomach respond to them the way they do. 

I am often thinking of the intergenerational process or family lately, namely, what is my role and work to do?   This comes up because of work, and it comes up because of love, and it comes up because of the feeling of obligation, and it comes up because of my lack of community. Where did I learn these things? family.  

Ali called James and I out on not doing our part. I think James and I are both responsible enough to name our own bullshit, but the conversation sucked because when you turn it around and ask what is everyone else doing to meet our needs, they get all self righteous.  I won't say too much about James' stuff, but it sucks that since he was a teenager he has been asking my Dad to acknowledge and respect certain boundaries/values, and my Dad and Colleen just haven't. They get stuck. My Dad avoids things. Colleen gets passive aggressive or plays victim. Meanwhile, James or myself just continue to have to stand our ground and stay true to our values in the face of opposition. 

I guess I don't see it as impacting me nearly as much as it used to, but the thing that bothers me now is the victim response, and the avoidance. I see my Dad doing this again with his lawn mowing business. He wants something for himself or to pass down, ok, but at what cost?  It comes off as a weird subconscious passive aggressiveness. He believes this thing he is doing will create a better outcome for himself, but the reality is that it only pushes him further away.  I guess it reminds me of M taking on more and more work, she would ask in one minute why we don't take time off and go some where for the weekend, and then book several appointments every Saturday or Friday night. Similarly, it is my Dad not trying to work things out with the people, but listening and then going his own way. It is my Dad leaving the family -his family of origin, and then his created family, because he didn't actually like the role he was asked to play, but couldn't do anything about it... so he left instead. 

Ali and Steve are our drama, and so when they are not entertaining or being dramatic, the family has very little to focus around. Their role as the babies of the family (and the drama) has shifted to the actual babies in the family, but with quarantine it has made that complicated. Ali is right, the family is falling apart. Maybe it should? We don't have relationships. We have roles. Ali says "I don't even know what you do for a living." and she is probably right, is there room to ask instead of playing out a role?

Same with Steve, I love my brother but he creates a dynamic where other people have to take care of him and then he rebels against them. Thats bullshit. If he wants a relationship, he needs to put effort into building a relationship. You can't rant about conspiracy theories or basketball for 4 hours and then expect the other person to feel good about it. He needs to acknowledge his stuff or he is right, there isn't a relationship. He often says that he wants people to accept him for who he is rather than trying to change him, and I think that's a great goal but then you have to find the people who are interested in the same stuff, you can't just expect everyone to hop on board your next hyper fixation. 

Steve and my Dad to some extent point to my mom's stuff. This week I wrote to her "I probably need to figure out how to be angry with you." and she validated that -but of course, in a way that I felt like I needed to sooth her. I probably don't notice her manipulation, I see it as a person who has worked through their shit and is addressing it in a healthy way. She validated my need, and acknowledged that it also sucked for her. I don't need to drop my stuff to validate her hurt...   but I do.   Why is it hard for me to be angry with her?  I don't have any major examples of her being cruel or disappointing me. I have many examples in which she was too spacey, or too tired, or didn't understand. These things are part of every day life, why should I expect anything different?  Or maybe it is that I needed to rebel against her, to be angry, not to have her tell me "be angry." Maybe she was too understanding of my situation? I don't know. Ultimately, I am in some ways too much like her understanding side, and not enough push back. I am the avoider that my Dad is. 

The theories say that a child is born to take on the work their parents could not do for themselves. I should be dissatisfied with their work and later grateful or able to acknowledge they did what they could... but the way it plays out is that I am proud of my mom and wish I had a life more like her -without wanting to take her stuff directly (I need to build it myself to feel confident and proud). And I am upset with my Dad for not being conscious of his own stuff. I am forgiving of James for doing what he can. I am frustrated with Steve. And Ali? I wish she would create her own family to remedy the bullshit she was born into. 

Me? I would like to love someone and have them love me back. Not a caretaker relationship based on worry and insecurity, but one in which we both do our work separate and together. 

But what will I do this weekend to make that happen?

Laundry... maybe a little art or reading, computer games? scrolling on social media?

it's a pandemic. Some of us are dying, the rest are hiding. 

HEY!

 Well first off, let me just say that I am pretty much in love with this YouTube channel 

So please enjoy that as often as you can.

Second,  shit. 

Thats kind of what the week's felt like. Haven't gotten much sleep, feel like I am not on top of my job, feel like I am all around being tested and flung around. Feel like my dreams are meaningful but can't figure out the meaning. Feel like I am so much bigger than this. Feel like I am so much smaller than this. 

Thats a weird feeling isn't it?  Like where do I fit, where am I supposed to be? How am I supposed to be?

meh. 

If I end up not being a therapist, can you remind me that's ok. I didn't enter this field to be a therapist, I entered to get some knowledge and continue on my journey of helping people. If this isn't the right field, I will lose interest, or run aground, or whatever. I didn't necessarily quit teaching because I hated teaching, I quit because I didn't like the field and felt it wasn't focused on the right things. Maybe social work and therapy are the same?  Maybe I should take up chanting. Maybe I should have an office decorated for me? Maybe I shouldn't care about breaking the rules or doing things "right."  

Today I sent a kid to the hospital, or rather I recommended they go. Not because I actually worried about their safety, but because I told them if they did something to make me worry, I would follow through. Not because I wanted to punish them, but because they don't realize they can scare people OR they do and they are not being held accountable. Either way, I don't think they need to spend the night in the hospital, I don't think they need to have the trust frayed... but then again, maybe that's exactly what they need?

I have no control of how they take it. Only control over my actions. I told them I would. I did. 

And yet... do I sleep easy?

Probably not. 

I went to work worried about my brother. I went to work with the gut feeling something was wrong. I went to work distracted by my personal drama... but it was a pretty good day other than the shit show and the worries...and the second guessing. 

I need a massage.  Maybe I should book one for Friday?

I need a hug.  I need sex. I need to figure out if there is something wrong with my body.

I need a beach and a retirement. A getaway. 

I don't know what I expect anymore... everything feels messy in life right now. We are going back towards hibernation, quarantine. We can always go to the office, but I also need to clean my dumb apartment. I could use a few days off. Next week. No holidays...

I dunno. 

Shades of gray

Listening to a playlist of beautiful acoustic cover songs and feeling apprehensive, melancholy, eager, wishing that my life had more connection. Makes me want to sing and learn guitar or piano. 

I've been painting. It's not finished and who knows if it will be any good. I decided a painting of a crow and a painting of a humming bird for the office. 

I've been thinking of spirit guides. Fuzzy was obviously my guardian angel, but I haven't been thinking of cats for a long time. Michael, only because of the name, but I like the idea of wings enfolding me in the knowledge of G-d. Crows were the ones that kept reminding me that there was something else, something other worldly. The silent moose, the meditating moose, strong, resilient, not moved. The hummingbird is new, the struggle and passing through. These are just images. I don't know what my spirit guides actually look like. I've been wondering if I can send them to people, the same way I pray all the time, just be with them. 

Sunday nights are always a little... anxious, a little grief that passes by the next day when I throw myself head first into work. 

I have a lot to do this week. A new client. A DA. A number of suicidal kids to deal with. I've got a group that doesn't trust me, and one that over relies on me. I'm questioning my abilities because the kids are hurting. I know it isn't my fault, but I have decided it is my responsibility I guess. And now because I have nothing else, I am questioning myself. Not believing in their natural resilience, their strengths, the life time ahead of them, the amazing people they will meet and become. It isn't fair or right, but I am questioning it all the same.  

I've been trying to figure out how to address their drama, how to say, how will you take responsibility for your own mental health instead of blaming everyone else, or forcing them to save you?

But... I know that desire too well. I was thinking how much I am like them, addicted to the roles, wishing someone would save me from myself. Like how I like my supervisor for forcing me to feel. How I got mad at my last therapist because he let me play the role of always being ok, let me deceive him, didn't force me to go deeper. 

My supervisor asked me why my feelings don't matter, and my life reinforces it. There is no place for my feelings, only my giving and sometimes my thoughts. Thats what people accept. 

I've been thinking about my parents a lot this weekend. Trying to figure out what work of theirs I was born to take on. My father's passiveness, his people pleasing, his desire to bring people together, and his avoidance when he can't do it the way he wants. My mother? her manipulation and rationalizing everything in healing and growth? Her brushing over things when she doesn't want to admit she took on too much? Her way of doubting, while holding out hope?  I don't really know with her. Maybe it's just that I fit her image, follow too closely in her foot steps. My mom thinks she's a 7 on the enneagram, and that makes sense to me. A healthy seven. It's hard for me to see her faults, sometimes I feel slighted by her indifference, or her memory slips. Her stress positions. Maybe that's my clue... what I get frustrated with her with. It felt good to step up and take responsibility, but it wasn't mine to take, I wasn't ready. 

I think about things like the getting lost and walking home in Hong Kong. She was so sure I was fine, and I was completely terrified and alone. And I did end up being fine. I was praised. I felt more confident. I went to Europe on my own and got through the panic attacks and depression. I went to South America and did the same. Maybe all of these things I am so proud of were just my subconscious way of me trying to say "No one is willing to hold me (the way I need), so I might as well go away."

Not entirely true. I mean everything is mixed. Maybe I need to explore more of this people pleasing and taking on people's shit. Maybe I need to work up the effort to finish this fucking book, but again, for what?   Because I NEEEEEED a project to keep me busy. 

It's really easy to feel like there isn't a point.

I learned to stay sober, neutral, unaffected because it saved people's lives, helped things get better, sometimes it doesn't work and it is painful to realized that no matter how much I care or sacrifice, I can't  fix things. But sometimes listening, or caring, or taking on shit... or staying sober or staying neutral and loving them even when they are hurting you does work. Not always, but some of the time. Which is the kind of pattern that gets reinforced the most. 

I held my nephew today, played peek a boo over and over. He's a little guy and I've only seen him  like 6 times since he was born in January. I don't love him yet... not really. 

I was thinking about the love we have for children. Specifically I was thinking about N and C, because of course I was. How N caught my heart in his anxiety, his intelligence, and his rift with his mom, like he already knew he couldn't rely on her, and I wished soooooooo badly to help repair that (playing the role again), but what 5 year old starts calling his mother by her first name with disdain. Sure he was testing too, testing and being naughty as a 5 yr old must, but it was so clear already that he knew something was wrong in their relationship, and Mike? -oh instead of taking  that as a warning sign I just moved closer. C, no one could not love that girl. She made you earn it, and one you did it was addicting. I guess she is her mother too. Even now I am jealous of the people she is smiling for (both of them). C was just figuring out who she was, a baby too long (probably another warning). But N will take care of her. I miss them. Maybe I didn't love C either, just loved that she forced me to love her so easily. I pictured them growing up far too often. Pictured who they would become. Loved all the possibilities, loved that they had a life time ahead to figure it out, and that at every moment they would be a challenge that forced me to rethink my own shit. I indulged in their voices, in their running around the house. Every where I went, I would see things and wonder if I should buy it for them. I was enamored of the feeling that I could be... something to them. 

It's so funny, I am clearly so angry with M this weekend... it's spiteful and envious. She changed her Facebook picture, and I am unfurling venom in an attempt to not be drawn in. 

I am such a weirdo. Maybe that's the other reason I don't want the clients to know me too well. Maybe I am just aware that I am a fucking weirdo, don't have my shit together, have hurt people, have fucked up... maybe that's the exact reason I should be more real, but they've had to deal with such bullshit...

I don't want to disappoint them. Fragilizing, playing the role. Mike's drama. 

Mike's drama. On some level, I wonder why I keep rededicating myself to helping people. I know it helps me. Makes me feel confident, and I would do it anyway... but... if I hatched my great escape plan now instead of in 30 years, it wouldn't be that different. I'd probably see more whales if I run now. Maybe I should move to Oregon. Life is so expensive in the US. 

Jesse keeps telling me about 90 day fiancé. I am sure it reminds her of her parents or something...  but it feels weird because I wonder if she ever pictured us that way. She hasn't shown any interest in me in that ways in years. I keep thinking I am gonna end up being that guy... the loser who doesn't realize they aren't actually interested, just using me for status. Somehow like M, I would convince myself that I was aware and conscious and making the decision anyway. That it was ok to be used...  because maybe that's all I think I deserve. 

I was gonna do some reading tonight...  maybe I still will. But felt a little like I should journal and I didn't feel like leaving the music...

Relief tears and ...

 

I really like my clinical supervisor because even though she gets spacey and talkative and complains, she calls me on my shit. She says Mike "How is this impacting you today?" and I deflect, and then again, and then she asks again until I am crying. And then she asks, "where did you learn that you have to put yourself on hold?" and... I feel seen. 

I do the same thing with the kiddos, its probably too therapeutic, but she says "I  worry about you in this job," and I say, I do too. I worry because I don't have the supports in place that I need. I am isolated, lonely, and easily swayed into the drama of the world. I am a child and the chaotic world is heart breaking. The joy and sorrow of it all. 

Last Sunday I kept having flash memories of university students waving banners from their apartment and dorm windows, calling for reform in Syria. And I kept picturing how they were massacred and tortured, how the middle class, multicultural and educated society fell into a bloody civil war with a half a million dead, and millions of refugees internally and externally displaced. Outside invaders without checks or balances, without regard for human rights, chemical weapons, epidemics. Once it began, no one could stop it. And in my head all I could picture was these students. Like in Les Miserables. Like countless squashed revolutions. Like countless disappeared. And all they were asking for was just to have their voices heard, to matter. 

I tell my supervisor this, and she reminds me that when you don't see division between people, when you see only "us" then the tragedy (and the progress) is felt at the core every time. Half the country voted for Biden (so that the American empire limps on), the other half voted for a fascist. And despite the incredible relief of the news today, I am still carrying the weight of the fact that half of the United States doesn't see their neighbor as deserving the same dignity and respect (or rights) that they have. In fact, they feel so unheard and disenfranchised and afraid that they would deny the humanity of everyone around them just to feel a pinch of feeling like they matter, like they belong. And it reminds me of camps I have walked through, that are exactly like the camps and prisons of today. And it reminds me of the slavery that used to exist, that is exactly like the slavery of today. And it reminds me of the suffering of a man who some believe was G-d, tortured and dying and asking that they all be forgiven, and how angry I am that "his followers" are the ones crucifying us, without any regard or acknowledgement or responsibility. 

And I just can't handle the weight of it, so I ask people how they are, and listen hoping that they will do the same. 

And My supervisor calls me on my shit, and implies that I am putting others before myself, saying that I am in essence saying they have more right to dignity than I do. And I have to stop and ask why I am so afraid of raising my own voice for me?  And in the moment I think about how many times I put myself on hold this week. Because... I also don't feel like I belong, like I matter, like I am important. I've used my voice, I've invited others into community, I've fought, I've organized, I've taught, and held space for a lot of folks. 

But I've seen how the beautiful and innocent can be destroyed without regard. And how even the powerful can be erased. And it's like... "Who the fuck do I think I am?"  not guilt or shame, just a reality. The story continues with or without me, and I am doing what I can and feeling good about my contributions for the most part. But then what? I go home to watch YouTube or sleep, and none of it matters. 

"Why is your stuff not important enough? Why is it less important than the folks you're working with?" And it's true...  I can only assume that I am just as afraid. I am afraid of being used, abandoned, of disappointment of heartbreak, of being called out as a fake, as a bad person, of being too much. People have been asking me all week how I am doing, checking in with me in person and texting, and I deflect, turn it back on them, ask them, take on their stuff. 

Whats it like when you feel too much? Well, you feel like a wreck. You intellectualize, you deflect, you defend, you create drama so you don't have to address it, you avoid, you hide, you lie, you manipulate. You do all the things I call my students on, with a smile on my face because "I'm like...yeah, I do that too." We all do. And I tell them, use the space to speak your truth. Just like my supervisor does. Cry if you need to. Break apart if you need to.  Be your true self for a moment, not the version you've had to be to stay sane. Be insane for a moment, and then recognize, you're alive and fine, and fucking wonderful. 

But I don't allow myself to do this, not nearly as much as I need to. I've gotten better at asking for help at work, but each time I feel like an idiot. 

And of course, because I don't give myself the space to emote truly,  I lose myself in drama too. Their deflection. Their defenses. Their asking for attention. All the things they do to not be seen despite being desperate to be seen.  I smile, because thats me too, afraid of being seen, of being too much, of asking for my heart to matter. I learned this at a very young age, but I am playing it out even as an adult in my soon to be late thirties. 

And maybe it's just that I am not really sure who I am and which of these feelings are mine. I can't always discern. I pick it up and then oh shit... A civil war that began 9 years ago? The chilean's disappeared 3 or 4 decades ago? The fucking French Revolution? Why the fuck am I holding onto trauma that isn't mine, has nothing to do with me and happened hundreds of years ago????!?!?!?!?!?

Because it was us, hurting us. And it's still happening. 

The more personal stuff... I've been trying so hard to stay mad at M. To discount her. To call her a narcissist and be done. But I am still caught in the drama of it in my head. She was the last person I loved, and I am still picturing her as a teenager being told why she was abandoned, and watching her relive her story over and over. And I can't separate the cause and effect. I want to hate her for hurting me, but I still feel her hurt and it's so hard to be angry when you see someone suffering. Why do I do this to myself? 

Because it's us, hurting us. And it's still happening. 

And where am I in all of that? This mucky residue that no one else sees in me,  an archive of qualia forgotten (to lift a partial quote). Or really they do see it, and see how helpful I could be and seek me out. It's not my pain, but my heart is broken all the same. So I hold space, put myself on hold, because it doesn't seem to matter either way. Whether I break your heart, or you break mine, my heart is still broken all the same. Whether we are joyful together or separate, I still delight in it. 

This is who I have been. Who I learned I was from the time I had any consciousness. Same story over and over. When I hear my own voice amongst the stadium, sometimes it sounds like a child victim demanding attention, and other times like a sage walking through the chaos smiling in the knowledge that everything is as it should be... and the 36 yr old in-between?  He's just confused between the two and playing the role that has kept him safe, and seemed reasonably helpful to others.  

When will I change this story? What else would it look like? I don't know. 

Control?

 In the mental health field, we often talk about how mental health is related to control, our response to the things we believe we should have control over, our response to the things we are aware we don't have control over... our desire to have control and how it manifests. 

Sometimes I get a weird feeling about work, a sort of ominous feeling. A nervous anticipation. I usually get it on Sundays, but today felt a little more striking. I was chalking it up to a couple of things I have going on tomorrow, and also the fact that I spent much of this weekend sleeping and socializing (unlike me), and maybe didn't have enough "down time." I still think this is the reason I was feeling off. I think the impending election, and the shift in day light hours probably adds to it. I think the cold with winter coming, my loneliness and the horoscopes that keep telling me I will meet someone soon, are all adding. 

Tonight I got one of those texts. Those ones where everything is fine, but it could have been different. Teenagers are impulsive. I never know how to respond. Should I respond with my actual feelings? the fear and anger, the hurt and confusion? Should I put that aside and say thankyou for informing me? Should I send them a meme or a funny video?  There isn't really anything to do. 

People do what they will do.

And if I am grounded in this reality, then it is as fragile, harsh and sometimes unforgiving as it appears. 

I've been wrestling with that idea this weekend. The idea that when I meet people I actually assume the best, give them the benefit of the doubt, always assume better -even when they tell me otherwise. It gets me in trouble and leaves me shocked, disturbed, broken. It's not naïveté, it's a choice. I was thinking about how M basically told me over and over and over that she was this way, and I always chose to believe she could be otherwise. Not a savior thing, in fact, I find I am still believing this, hoping despite all evidence, that maybe she actually will work through her shit in the relationship she is in now. Not because he's worth it, but because maybe she'll realize that she is. I knew all along she could hurt me, throw away our relationship, do a million stupid things, and gave her the opportunity because that's who I want to be. 

Its hard because I keep thinking about the future and whether I will have better boundaries with the next person, maybe less people pleasing, but I can't imagine it ever working if I don't assume the best. 

But it gets me in trouble. How ignore the evidence in front of me sometimes. The alternative is that I am cynical and suspicious of everyone. I have lived that way and it sucks. It certainly isn't helpful for building relationships or working with people. 

But when it happens. When someone I love or care about hurts themselves or me... what can I do with it? Where should I turn with the fear? The pain? the confusion?  I can rationalize with the best, I can say my prayers, I can write my poems and my journal rants. I'll have to let go just like with anything else. 

This is not in my control, only my response. Only what I choose to believe. 

Tears

 I am at work. It’s a slow day. People have been reaching out to me lately because I’m “grounding” for them.

I was avoiding some paperwork, and looked at one of those videos where a kid calls their step parent dad For the first time (the whole thing is always a little cringe because it’s being recorded), but I got a little tearful. 

It would have been so easy for me to love them forever. 

Sufjan Stevens - Casimir Pulaski Day

Such a hauntingly beautiful song. 

It now reminds me of a time a few years ago when I was trying not to fall in love. Taking tentative steps towards something intoxicating that I hoped I could trust myself with, and turned sour the way my stomach told me it would. Maybe it was a self fulfilling prophecy. Maybe I shouldn't listen to such sad songs. 

It is Saturday. I woke up to my morning alarms -wide awake, clear headed and creative, and decided to try to sleep more. Woke up a few hours later groggy, stifled, not at all sure what I wanted and feeling behind. 

I had dreams of knowing people.

I had a horoscope and a tarot reading that said this weekend would be different. 

I can't imagine how. 

I sipped a cup of espresso, but I am still groggy. I plan on playing computer games after a walk with my Dad. The three tasks I had for the weekend were all maybes, a target run, some laundry, a self hair cut. The friends were tentative. Returning to sleep seemed like a good enough idea, the dreams were nice. 

I woke up to find out that I had left my planned lunch on the counter last night to spoil. I am not sure that it would, but didn't want to take the risk of getting sick. 

Considering learning internal family systems, parts work. I am fairly familiar with the concepts at this point, just not the details and terms. I think it will be helpful in my work, but I am also aware that many of my clients don't care at all for terms, so maybe that part doesn't matter. I wonder if I need a more concrete approach for group. Something they can all agree to.

So much of life has to do with mindset, even the bitter ironic mindset like in the sufjan song. 

I ask my students to question their mindset, to give themselves the freedom to choose what they would like to do with their pain. Would you like to suffer? Would you like to acknowledge and reframe it? Grow from it even?

I wonder what I will look back on in this era. Will it be "wasted time" or will I reframe it as the time I became more myself, more authentically me. Didn't swoon to adjust, or cram myself in other people's boxes. Asked them to adjust to my schedule. Or did I just avoid and hide, and hope someone would find me and take me home with them?

I don't know yet how I will frame this story. 

Today I am groggy. I should probably pay some bills. 

work thoughts

The caretaker/peacemaker in me is struggling with holding the tension, leaving it unresolved. I am glad for the breakthroughs, but instantly wonder where I faltered. Look to the places where someone else may be struggling, may need a next step.  Want to do it all, without seeing I am but a part. 

It’s my own version of staying busy, of not paying attention to my stuff. Of care taking others to resolve my inner anxiety.

When things “aren’t working,” (meaning they are in progress),  I blame myself and try my best to control –think through every option, plan plan plan, and FIX the system, make the connection for them.

And yet, I know it isn’t genuine help. What are you learning I ask? What has sunk in? What are you ready for?

They fall back into old self-protective patterns, I remind myself they are doing what they need to do (at this time), and when they are ready, they will make the next step.

Just as I remind them, hey, I know your heart, if you need to hate someone hate them, and I promise you it won’t last one second longer than you need it to.

I assume too much. Presume I know them, understand them, are connected.

Meanwhile, I sit in my isolation, my loneliness, my own depths of discomfort.

Or veg out, play computer games for 8 hours straight, binge watch a season, scroll through Instagram and facebook without connecting.

I wait for others to show their appreciation, or send them memes when I can’t fathom connecting. Can’t muster the compassion, or the depth of my true feelings, couldn’t possibly be as vulnerable as I ask these kids to be each and every day. 

I am stirred, and then shut down, when  friends respond. I wait till the next day. I am a turtle. I wait for the sunlight to leave my shell, and the sun has not shown in days.

I penguin walk back and forth between considering this a problem to be solved, and just accepting it. Somehow I feel like I am making progress forward between the waddle.

Is it just the way I am? Or is it something to consider changing? Haven’t I been considering this my entire life. What would happen either way?

And what would I add, if I subtracted this layer of anxiety/serving.

Who would see me, hear me, acknowledge me, 

What would I even be?   Free?  Me?

The lucky one?

 

Finished the good place'. ( I suppose I should say spoiler alert?)

The last season has a running theme of life as a human,

-making mistakes and trying to do better the next day

-finding meaning and pleasure due to scarcity...

Today, shortly after my last post, the coffee finally kicked in, and I was thinking about how its so easy for me to complain about being lonely, or not having anything to do... but actually my life is really good, really easy, almost nothing seriously wrong.  It's the lack of drama, of fear, of passion that I am complaining about, and it leaves me with oodles of time that can be spent... enjoying the nothingness. 

I played computer games all weekend, and watched a season of tv on Netflix. I didn't learn or grow much, but I wasn't in pain, I wasn't afraid, I wasn't fighting for my life. 

I have food in the fridge, and a healthy body. 

I have a nice apartment, that I can heat up or cool as I need. 

It's safe. It's stable. 

I have friends and family who I could reach out to.

I have all the surplus of the world at my finger tips. 

I am ready for bed. 

Tomorrow I will wake up early and help some kiddos solve some riddles of their life. 

It won't be the hardest work. It won't be the easiest. It will be meaningful, and then I will grab some groceries or some take out, and do it all over again until next weekend.

Nothing much changes, but it isn't bad. It's not getting much worse at least.

The winter is coming, it's already freezing... I will probably gain some weight. I will probably play more computer games. I will probably do the same old things... it's a safe, stable, cave I've found, stockpiled, not much better or worse than other years... and certainly I am lucky to have it.

It's a weird life. All the philosophers try to remind you that you live it alone, even when you're with people. It's a funny argument. I am not sure if cynicism or romanticism or realism?  or what... makes anyone any more happy.  It just is as it is. And will be. 

loneliness distorts

 

There was a postsecret this morning that talked about not being invited into anyone's covid pod. 

I was thinking about the phenomenon of how whenever we are dumped we think our ex's will magically do better in their next relationship. Social media distorts this even more. 

I've been thinking that I should be writing, trying at least, spend an hour a day... that would get me back in the habit. But... then I don't.

Watched a bunch of the good place last night, probably finish it today.

This is a sad sad blog.

I was just at the coffee shop and it was pretty busy, and it felt like I was missing out, and also like it wasn't a safe place to be. How will this work in the future?

It rained on me, everything smells like sanitizer

 Its 4:10 pm

I was trying to think up things I could do today that would be fun, I didn't come up with any. I just got back from a walk, singing JCSS around the lake, got some afternoon coffee and thought about how the coffee shops freak me out now. Stopped at the liquor store by my apartment to buy a bottle of Sprite, considered the white claw Illy gave me...

I've been thinking about cleaning and organizing my apartment, on the off chance I ever have anyone over, it wouldn't look so 'in progress.' Maybe going through all the storage bins, rediscovering parts of my past. Maybe I should treat myself with as much curiosity as I would a new love. 

The fall leaves are starting to fade. There are a couple of good streets still, but the gray is turning everything dismal. It snowed/sleeted yesterday. It rained on me today. There weren't many people out and even the streets felt a little empty. Maybe everyone went out of town for the last hurrah?

I don't really have anything to look forward to. I was thinking about that a bit lately. No trips. No holidays. No parties. No children. Each day passes and then it's gone. It does have a feel of not mattering. So of course I put all my effort into work, into connecting with the students, in trying to be the best coworker and employee I can. 

I had a couple of dreams last night because I slept in. I kind of wish I could go back to dream land right now. The first dream was about seeing an old client, a kiddo who was still arguing with his parent. He wanted support and I had to tell him that I couldn't change his life for him. The second was with some little hottie. I don't remember her face which is weird. It was entirely about sexual chemistry. I remember at one point taking a break and walking around the neighborhood and seeing these huge mansions. Just stopping to count floors, and look at the architecture, and then back to the fire. 

I woke up around 10 AM. When I wake up late I can't think straight. Usually I have less anxiety but also less creativity. The dream made me wonder if I should try to pursue a sexual relationship just for the kicks. 

Most of the day I've spent trying to talk myself into the idea that I am deserving of a relationship with someone who is actually compatible. I'd be nice to find someone who is a match. 

Maybe I'll go read a book. 

Long weekends

It started snowing today. 

Thats ok because I don't have any plans anyway. 

Last weekend I went up north with Rachel. We stayed in the yurt, we had some good hikes and some shopping at Grand Marais and Duluth. It was nice to get away and reminded that life exists beyond work. 

This weekend I have no plans. It's not technically a long weekend, but MEA has reduced the amount of work the last couple of days. A few sessions, a bunch of paperwork. Nothing much. I left early and voted today. Took about 40 minutes with the line. They say 900,000 Minnesotans have already voted with two weeks until the election.

I am wrestling with the realization that I might not see anyone or do anything in the next few days. Certainly not tonight... maybe eat popcorn for dinner. 

More than that, I am anticipating the loneliness. I've been overthinking lately about relationships. Thinking about how I don't know how to get in one. About how friendships just aren't what I am looking for anymore. About how I actually think I was a pretty good boyfriend, or maybe I was a horrible one and drove her away?  I don't know, I am questioning these things as the days get colder and shorter. I am wishing I had someone special to cuddle with. 

Thinking about how each day that passes, reminds me of the years that passed without anything.

Thinking a bit about how it doesn't matter at all... because I am happy most of the time. And also because the universe doesn't owe me anything. Also how it kind of does matter...

I guess I am just rambling. 

Gonna play computer games all night. I did my civic duty. Might as well disappear for a night. 

presence

I try very hard to offer my students and other people my presence. My attention, my mental clarity, my willingness to sit and hold -just about anything...   but it isn't real.

I mean, its real, but not reciprocal, and thus -though I know it gives me a great deal of meaning and purpose, it isn't me sitting there. Just part of me. 

I've been attending a UU small group on zoom. The little readings, the sharing, requires me to get a little more real. To open, to hold space not for others, but for myself. 

I stopped going to therapy a month ago, because I had stopped being able to do that. I was walking into each meeting with a pitch, a story I'd concocted, usually through writing. 

I don't know where to find that space in my life with people. Maybe that's my big issue. I take on a role to please, peacemaker, caretaker, validator in chief. And even when I try to open up, I try to give a canned experience, a storied version, a false sense of clarity.  

I wonder if people start to feel like they don't really know me, or if I have convinced everyone by my giving to them, that I am fully open.  

M used to talk about how I saw lions everywhere, and lions in sheep clothes, and never just recognized the sheep for sheep, and it's true. I do. I see everyone as far more complex, and far more dangerous than they believe themselves to be. Raw vulnerability has never suited me. I have not had a temper tantrum in ages. Removed myself. Lashed out precisely. Sneakily. But not vulnerability. It isn't pleasant for others, it asks too much. 

I've been questioning how much I actually let myself exist in that relationship, how much I held back, a very strong indicator that I was playing a role, and not being present. But I was in the moment. I held space for her and cherished it. But for me?  Rarely, and the more I did, the less interested she became. 

I think that's why the lesson has been so traumatizing, because it reiterated what I learned as a child. Don't be yourself, be what they need or they'll run. Same old pattern repeated. And I know I invited it back, hoping to change the ending, prayed she'd open up -despite all evidence to the contrary, hoped I could win her to me.  I need to stop choosing partners that are the opposite of what I actually want, but how else will I prove the point?

All day long I watch people pushing away what they need to be whole. Watch them avoid, run, sleep rather than acknowledge what they need, ask for it. Some of them have had these behaviors modeled, others learned their roles. It's so challenging to hold space and hold them accountable. Its a terrible tight rope. But what is learning and growing, what is identity development, what is live during societal crisis, what is mental illness, what is relationship strain, what is school, what is teen angst and normal developmental adolescent stress, what does it mean to be a parent and have to be tested in the ways you'd hoped you could always avoid? found coping skills to avoid? found roles to avoid? Life always provides opportunities to heal right? not without fear and pain, that's the stretch, that's the heart tearing to make space for what it didn't think was possible. 

And even knowing this. I spend my weekends alone. I do not reach out. I do not ask. I do not look forward to meeting up. I am as scared as I have ever been of vulnerability, and I'll smile all the way through it. Because, what would it mean to extend myself now? 

It would mean falling apart again, realizing I am just as vulnerable as everyone else, not knowing who will put me back together again... because     who      would?