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.