All I want for

Writing for ½ an hour. I can do that.

Who wants to read the ramblings of a stranger?

Ok, maybe I do. Depending on what they’re talking about.

Loneliness. Isolation. Individualism. Collectivism. Our current dystopian world. Hope?

The body.

Existentialism.

Entertainment Addiction.

Attention Disorder.

What am I?

What are we?

Codes of DNA encased in a flesh shell. All that DNA wants to do is survive and replicate.

Is that all we are?

I am a recovering theist atheist. So for those of you hoping to find solidarity in faith or the beyond will not find it here.

You will find someone who struggles with:

loneliness and isolation

being overwhelmed by politics, wanting to do something, thinking if we got together things would change, feeling like it’s all hopeless

trying to adapt with a mind brought up to think in black and white, positivity, afterlife, everything has a reason that clashes with how things really are

still thinks there’s hope and it’s worth fighting for

Existentialism feels more real to me every day.

But E is nothing more than socially programmed humans who have a surplus of time living isolated, individualistic lives:

What do I do with my free time?

The culture of individualism is a culture of isolation / living alone – which leads to stress – which leads to addictions of all kinds – which leads to more isolation and feelings of powerlessness – and this cycle is how we’re pushed more and more out of power / how more and more voting rights are demolished.

One merger after another. We’re definitely heading towards the BnL Wall-E future. Maybe we’re in it already.

How do we escape?

Is it through intentional communities and cohousing? Is that the crux of all this? Shifting the culture of individualism aka isolationism to ‘cohousing-ism’?

The very thought of sharing my personal space with others makes me want to crawl into a hole.

“I’d go crazy” I think.

But I’m going crazy now.

That’s why I’m sitting on the floor of a darkened room with the glow of a computer screen as the only form of illumination. This urge to EXPRESS…this urge to express ME… to cry out…. am I… REALLY alone as I feel?

Seeing words materialize on a blank white canvass feels…comforting. So the very act of typing feels nice. I’m able to shape and create SOMETHING.

So why publish it then?

I am lonely and so are you.

I…. want it to stop and so do you.

I think.

The world as it could be. The world as it could be.

I was born into an environment that shaped me into an idealist.

Phenomenon after phenomenon.

Is there ‘a god’. Are we here for a conscious purpose?

While I ask these questions, I could be helping someone fleeing a country or someone who is starving. But I have the privilege of existentiality. The horror of the mind and the modern age of surplus time and isolation.

Existentiality is beautiful, but not at the price of inaction.

I know I am grossly misusing the term in a strict, academic philosophical sense.

“Existence precedes essence”

But as I lay on my death bed in 5, 10, 20, 50 years from now – at least I did SOMETHING.

I felt lonely. I moved my fingers. I pushed a button. And other people can see it. Hey, I feel that way, too.

Pointless. Hopeful. Maybe it’s a way out of my crippling escapist behaviors. It’s definitely an EB in itself. But at least it’s better time spent then watching another half hour of pornography or the next show on Netflix. It’s better than just being in a reverie of thought-mulling, a trance of rumination, where thirty minutes has passed and I’ve just been sitting on my bed, half aware of what I’m thinking and half not.

I struggle with this process of sticking my neck out. Of now being open to criticism.

You’re a fucking dumbass.

You’re a shitty writer.

Go kill yourself.

How EMBARRASSING. I feel so goddamn embarrassed for you, you fucking loser. You fucking piece of shit loser. Jesus fucking Christ you are a lost cause. You’ve wasted your life and now this? And now this?

Why in the absolute fuck are you putting yourself through more pain?

The pain of exposure.

The shifting judging eyes.

The flying thoughts of judgment like thousands of tiny daggers. The frown. The squint. The click. The turn. The forgetting.

Am I just attention crazed?

Yes. Yes I am. I am in desperate need of attention and that’s why I’m writing and posting on the internet because I have no friends.

(Well, I do have friends, but… I crave community. I crave community. And I crave a life worth living. I crave meaningful work. I crave doing something instead of caving into paralysis in the face of a dystopian society.) Boy, we’ve been fucking dystopian for a LONG ass time. Where the fuck have you been?

Grandpa, what did you do with your life?

Well imaginary grandchild, not fucking much. I did however, once or twice, be in just the right mood to right an existential, rambling blog post.

What I want: a variety of intentional communities (rural to urban) that shifts culture from individualism and isolation and addiction to healthy minded, diverse, and connected individuals who are aware of and participate in the political process, decentralizing power and resources, to create a stable, sustainable union with the planet and each other.

I want to love myself and have the courage to say what I want in front of others, and face the fear of criticism and backlash. I want to believe in myself. I want to believe in the goodness of humanity. I want to believe in hope and give hope a try.

That’s all I want.

Days 4-7 Recap / 170718 Tuesday – Day 8

Brief, several day recap. I begin to develop a kind of daily checklist.

Sometimes I find it difficult to concentrate and remember: ok, what is this blog about again? I want it to be so many things.

I find that, occasionally (maybe even often) writing in this stream-of-conscious way tends to stir up my inner anxiety/despair/self-criticism. Why is that?

I want this to be some kind of record (for science??) about documenting the attempt of a 30-something white male to end an addiction to pornography, video entertainment, procrastination, excuses, avoidance, and a child/follower bear-no-responsibility mind-set over the course of a year.

But, a key step of recovery, I think, is replacing those activities with something that’s positive and something that develops and manifests the core of who I am, so wouldn’t this blog also need to include what I am doing, and not just what I have avoided doing?

Because, I’d like to think I am not just my addiction, even though whenever I think about who I am, that’s often what I think about.

We are a mix of desirable and undesirable qualities, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sure, if I could press a button and be perfect, I’m not sure what would stop me from pressing it. But what does that even mean, and is it even categorically possibly? What is ‘perfection’? And if I never made mistakes, I would lose something quintessential to myself. Would I even be able to recognize myself? Would I actually be conscious? Or just some kind of automaton? Is a fundamental part about being human the process of holding space for your imperfection and fallibility? The understanding that at this very moment, because of my lack of knowledge of the future and all options, I am on course to my next mistake, my next thousand mistakes, and eventually, my death.

I think I am going to develop a kind of checklist. I’m not sure if I will complete it daily, or if I will do a kind of review at the end of each week.

Work in progress:

CHECKLIST

  • Pornography? Yes, 1x, yesterday (Sun)
  • Video games? No
  • YouTube? Yes, in the presence of my partner.
  • Unstructured news browsing? Yes
  • Unstructured general browsing? Yes
  • TV/Movies? Yes, but with another human being
  • Maintaining clean apt? No
  • Sleep for at least 7 hour? No
  • Career/Passion work?
  • Misc/daily chore/task work?
  • Eating well?
  • Exercise?
  • Physical affection? (Hugs, cuddling, sex)
  • Feeling the inner parent?
  • Social interaction?
  • Introspection?

Frustrated by/ Needs work:

Grateful for:

I can feel how this blog can become an avoidance mechanism (and it has been that occasionally). I still am figuring out how to establish a balance.

One of my biggest challenges is simply maintaining some sort of basic schedule and plan for the day. 98% of my life has been becoming absorbed by some activity until an external force pulls me out of it.

170714 Friday – Day 4

Even with small success, I remind myself I have a problem, and explore what this blog is about. A stream-of-conscious prompt at the end.

Sleep: <7 hours

I am feeling a classic pattern of:

“Whoa! I’m free! Psh, I’m not an addict, I’m fine! This is easy. Wow, I wonder what it must be like to not have control.”

When can I say, “I’m no longer an addict”? Definitely not after 3 days.

And is a ‘true addict’ only someone who cannot recover unless they move / are moved into some kind of controlled living environment where they are monitored constantly?

Regardless, I have a problem. A problem that, while I hasn’t wrecked total havoc on my life, it has ‘delayed’ it (at least I feel like my life’s been delayed), and has made day-to-day living a roller coaster of emotions. I don’t like thinking ‘I have a problem’. I don’t want to think there’s nothing wrong with me.

But I’m three years behind in taxes. I don’t have healthcare. I’ve deeply struggled with relationships. Having crippling anxiety. Etc, etc. Sure, some of that is structural issues with society itself (isn’t everything?), but I have to believe I’d be a little farther along if I hadn’t chosen to play at least 8-15 hours of video games every weekend or losing 1-2 hours of sleep to watch pornography almost every night for years and years. Sure, there were periods when I didn’t touch video games. There were times – not usually more than a week – where I was responsible. But these have been far and few between.

The two edge sword of this blog process for me is that, while I am processing my feelings, and while I feeling a greater sense of feeling accountable to myself, and to the people who read this, I am feeling the nagging feeling that I may begin to use writing as a way to escape my daily responsibilities. And I suddenly just realized that I am on unstructured time right now.

Ok, just created a small schedule.

As I was saying, that this process can do the opposite effect of being present with myself and with my surroundings, and instead, delve into what ifs and stir up latent anxiety.

I pause.

And hear

the silence

of where I am.

I play ‘Dark Beyond the Blue’ by Hammock on repeat.

Silence is fresh. Silence is sharp.

And it’s not that there is no sound. I hear cars. I hear others talking. I see movement. But it is all movement that is happening now. Not the rushed cavorting about that happens with avatars and distorted time frames of movies and shows.

An unbroken stream of time, real-time.

I notice I am breathing.

This person comes. That person leaves.

The clouds are moving. Can I see them move?

 

What is the end goal of all of this?

This is a blog not just about reporting back on withdrawal symptoms and how bad pornography and entertainment addiction is.

This must include the journey of facing all the feelings I am trying to get away from. Of letting Shame and Self-Hate speak, and then reminding it of my other parts. Of seeing how anxiety makes my skin crawl as though I’m covered by thousands of ants.

And it must include the journey of fostering the inner parent, which, I believe is the most important part of all.

Does all life derive from some kind of deep sense or hope of importance, attention, and love?

My inner parent doesn’t know all. But they are calm.

S(HE feels some fear and confusion too. But she is confident in my being. That, she does not second guess.

I…but…here. ah, shh, it’s ok. just take a breath, in, in, and hold, and let out. relax the shoulders. I mess up so much. I mess up so much. I mess up so much. why… why am i….looks down, ashamed. hey, hey, look at me. what do you think I think. tears. a small smile. but… so troubled. yes…but not just troubled, right? no, true. and breathe…feel it in your belly…push it out if you need to….feel it in your chest…relax that jaw, and those cheeks. and now the water works. I am an infant crying. I want to be held. but no one is there. it’s dark? I curl my fists. it’s hard to breathe. I writhe. all muscles contract. am I on a table? want to scream.

It’s about living well in the time that we have. And I have some time today. Small steps. Small moves. I bring the inner wounded along.

We are all walking wounded, as my therapist used to say. Does knowing that it make me feel better? Is it actually true?

How do we all become unwounded?

170712 Wednesday – Day 2

Another sum of what this blog is, and I reveal another part of my entertainment addiction or compulsion

Gah so many thoughts!

Still formulating how I want to present what this blog is about. Right now:

  • Entertainment Addiction and Recovery, which includes healing inner wounds, inner psychology, family history and development, and so on
  • Thoughts on what could help the world (in avoiding environmental / social / nuclear catastrophe (maybe it’s a little too late for that 😦 ))
  • General thoughts

Feeling the need to clarify that this blog is not about drug addiction (although some would argue that the chemicals released by the brain when viewing video entertainment is a kind of addiction).

Also wondering about the criticism this blog may attract:

  • “Your pain/experience is less than a true drug addicts pain, so you don’t have much right writing about this.” Akin to a rich white kid complaining that he didn’t get the car he wanted from his parents.

Is that true? Should I not write about my experience because it may not be as bad as someone else’s?

And why am I worrying about potential criticism?

I am a people-pleaser, and I’ve struggled with that most of my life. I often believe I am the wrong one whenever a conflict arises (and if I do try to fight my point, I feel terribly guilty afterwards). I believe this people-pleasing, self-effacing tendency developed out my parents constantly making me feel selfish for having needs or expressing strong emotions, for my fear of abandonment, and for my desire to have a mentor/rescuer/parent-I-never-had. So when I make myself extremely agreeable, I cast the widest net for potential parents.

As I was at work this morning, I was feeling embarrassed by how much I’ve already shared in this blog, and that’s another criticism I’m wondering about:

“Wow, this guy is embarrassing himself. This is way too melodramatic. This is over-sharing. He just wants attention.” (Which then I take “his pain isn’t actually something important to talk about).

Again, I feel ashamed about talking about myself, my feelings, my experience. My experience doesn’t feel valid. And this gets into part of the reason as to why I’ve decided to start a blog:

MY FEELINGS ARE REAL

MY FEELINGS ARE VALID

MY EXPERIENCE IS VALID

THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPENED TO ME

THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO ME SHOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED TO ME

NO ONE DESERVES THIS PAIN

I struggle with a deep sense that my existence is not valid or important. It’s why I’ve struggled with feelings of suicide in the past. I have felt deeply unseen by many, if not most, of the adults that were supposed to aid in my development. I’ve felt used, manipulated, overlooked, glossed over, avoided, abandoned, forgotten.

And now I’m filled with anger and rage at all those who I feel hurt me. The people who were supposed to protect me. The shitty jobs they did. The thousands of hours and days, the years that have been wasted. Where I could be. The shitty place I am now.

Ok. Ok, ok. This is not going to be a blog that’s solely focused about bashing and venting, and never about solutions, and moving to a state where I am trying to take responsibility for my actions.

BUT

Again, for me, my particular experience was that showing anger and frustration is BAD. You’re SELFISH if you make ME feel bad.

But no I don’t want to be selfish! I’m good…right? I think? So felt/thought the child.

I think a deep part of healing is going toward the pain. Part of healing IS venting. If we stay there, that’s a problem. But to gloss over it just makes it fester. We HAVE to vent. Venting is tricky because…sometimes when I keep nudging myself to vent, to be more and more honest about EVERYTHING I am feeling, I can go to dark and disturbing places. But the further I go, I always come to a place where I don’t actually wish for all the things that repressed self expressed. That self wants justice, clarity, accountability. But overall, my highest self wants healing for everyone, and for everything. And if there’s anything that is more apparent in this world, violence breeds violence. Hate breeds hate.

But there is – and MUST be – a place (a safe place) for venting, expressing, and showing the deep pain we have been bottling up all these years. (I have to be careful about using ‘we’ ‘us’ and ‘our’ language because then it begins to sound preachy. I will go back to speaking from my experience.

When I express this anger, this pain, there is another part, perhaps a part of the pain, that says, “Yes! AH, I FINALLY feel like I’m able to be SEEN. To be expressed! To feel VALID.”

See, I think what’s happening is this constant denial inside as a way to cope. I was shut down so many times that I began to deny that my pain existed. But the problem with that is it’s crazy-making. There’s a deep clash inside where the pain is obviously there, but there’s another part that is keeping it all locked up – that desperate, fearful, survive, abandonment-by-others-equals-death part feels that my own anger and pain is a threat. And rather than acknowledging it’s real, it’s easier and takes less energy – in that moment – to deny it’s existence. But that part that feels that certain way that elicits anger, rage, resentment only feels more of it. It feels bewildered. It feels crazy. And underneath all of this is a deep sadness and confusion.

So many layers.

So much I want to write about.

And, I think I’ve decided to just take the plunge and be honest about something else. (Squirm away – gah no don’t embarrass yourself further! What if this destroys my credibility or respect in the future??) Eh. We’re probably all fucked anyway. And I’m eventually going to die and I won’t give a shit about my reputation. If some alien race, or future iteration of humanity reboots the internet and finds this and giggles away to their friends, so be it!

Pornography!

I have also been addicted to pornography.

“Stop using the word ‘addicted’!” I hear someone saying. “If you’re not being being debilitated by it, then it’s not an addiction”.

Well…what do you call something you feel unable to control yourself against? That you use day after day? That occasionally interrupts sleep, definitely destroyed a part of my social life, etc, etc?

I am not a sex or sexuality basher. I am sex positive. Sex is great. Artistic representations of sex and the body is fine and welcomed.

But, I think there’s a problem when I’m unable to control my impulses.

So, this blog will also be documenting my attempt to come out of an addiction – a compulsion? – for pornography.

SO EMBARRASSING.

What if people find out about this and…and…this gets all over the news? Then, anytime I show my face, people will be like:

“Oh…oh HE’s the PORN guy.” Chuckle chuckle chuckle. What a fucking jerk-off. What a sad, pathetic loser. Haha. Let’s all laugh at the guy who’s looked at pornography.

A part of me is pleading, “Please, I beg of you – don’t share this. Why?? Everyone does it. It’s ok. Do we REALLY need to talk about it?”

If I’m starting a blog about ENTERTAINMENT ADDICTION…and it’s about myself experience…and I DON’T talk about pornography (while specifically mentioning all the other stuff…then…?

Whelp. This is me going toward my pain. Of sitting with my pain. (But you’re creating even MORE pain for yourself!!) But here are some of why I think this is pretty essential:

a) It’s kind of exhilarating to admit this big squeamish embarrassing secret (You TOUCH yourself! AND NOW EVERYONE KNOWS OMGGGAHHHHHHHHH)

b) I am deep unhappy because I keep choosing to use my free time to drown out my inner anxiety with video games, TV, movies, YouTube, news scanning, web browsing, and pornography. I hate the self-hate. I hate feeling out of control. I hate the lack of respect I have for myself. I hate the lack of faith in myself. I hate feeling unsafe with myself. Hate feeling like I’m wasting my life. Hate feeling like I have nothing to offer the world. Hate feeling like I’ve accomplished nothing. (Stop using the word ‘hate’ so much!)

c) I choose these things because they drown out – temporarily – all the voices above. I have felt that I am unable to face and deal with those voices. That letting them speak would be a greater threat than masking them. But I am trying to tell my irrational self that in the long run, this survival-mechanism is cause me more more pain. It’s doing exactly the opposite of what I’m hoping it will do. And so

d) the way out is becoming comfortable with that pain, and responding to it – i.e., saying to that self-hateful part, “Actually, I don’t hate everything about my life. I don’t hate everything about me. There are some good things.”

So, this blog is one of the tools I am using to be with that pain. To parent-myself. To soothe it. To let it out. To let it speak its mind. But to remind it, the pain, that there’s also hope. That, along with it, there could also be some other things.

You’ll see that I will continually be trying to validate to myself the writing of this blog.

That’s all for now!

Oh yeah, and I also realized yesterday that this blog can’t just be: I write until I fuck up, and then abandon it. I write regardless. Healing includes some fuck-ups. Even though I just want to be perfect and have no ‘relapses’, no mistakes, no anything.

170711 Tuesday – First Post

Gah.

I still have a bad connotation when I hear “blog”.

Not sure why.

Probably because I was raised to think any kind of focus on oneself was selfish and bad.

But I’ve wanted to make some major changes with my life, I enjoy introspection and writing, and a kind of daily looking-forward-to-this activity has been helpful to me in the past.

Up ahead: this picture was included in the ‘first post’ template. I want to think it’s stupid and way too obvious for a metaphor…but I kind of like it. Guilty, embarrassed face. So, I’m keeping it.

post

What this blog will be about:

A daily-ish recounting of:

  • my journey out of entertainment addiction and into self-control
  • the experience of getting back into daily exercise
  • inner psychological experience and history in relation to the above
  • thoughts about the world and life (eye roll)

I am not entirely happy with my life. I do have a lot to be grateful for (the fact I have the means to sit down and write a freaking blog shows this), but I am not happy, I think I could be happier, and I think I know how to get there (or at least, begin that journey).

So come along for the ride!

So I want to be happy.

Do you? Don’t we all? What does that even mean? How does it look like for people?

But the world is (feels?) pretty shit right now. Or…there’s this kind of impending doom. The climate is heating up faster than expected. Everyone hates each other. Nuclear apocalypse could happen at any moment. The rich get richer. Yada yada yada.

Sure, there’s a lot of good going on…but for me, the long-term trajectory, at least from an ecological and economic standpoint, seems pretty scary.

Gah so many thoughts.

Where to start?

So…I want to be happy, but my happiness is hindered by my anxiety about the world situation. So…part of my life (part of this blog) will also be about how I am trying to ‘get involved’, and what ‘getting involved’ means to me. Because, even though I’m just a spec, and probably won’t cause any change (and everything is hopeless, blah blah blah), I feel like, for my own self, I’ll be able to rest easier feeling like I have a small understanding of the world situation (instead of being continuously shocked every time I come out of my hole of entertainment addiction, look at the national, state, and local news, feel immense guilt I haven’t been doing anything about it, or feel a kind of despair that things will never change).

SO.

To get to happiness, I have to -> START A BLOG -> stop my addiction, and that -> gives me more time while feeling more self-control and better about myself -> enables me to get more involved -> the world is (or isn’t) saved as a result.

Cha-ching. Yay!

The daily action of writing, of anticipating who might be reading, of anticipating how this transformation will look, of keeping myself accountable because I just spent $35.88 and don’t want that to go to waste – yes, that is why I’m starting a blog.

Will a blog help, hinder, or no-effect an addiction? If I ever stop writing, you’ll have your answer.

I don’t want to stop, though. I really, really would like to change my whole sense of myself. And that’s going to take a lot. It’s going to take…

One moment by moment.

Ha. ha. ha. (“Roll credits!” as the YouTube channel CinemaSins would say).

So that’s it. That’s why I’m here. I can see the change. You can see the change.

We all probably die via ecological/society meltdown anyway.

But the hope (gotta have hope!) is inner and outer success.

The hope is I change. And personal change will happen if I touch on certain things (at least that’s my belief, my hope). I try to be a realist, but I can’t seem to get rid of certain elements of romantic, utopian vision and hope for myself and the world.

At the heart of this (‘this’ being the key to success), I think, is… hmmm…

  • the successful creation of new habitual actions that circumvent and/or positively respond to triggers / trigger behavior
  • the ability to stay present with painful emotions and physiological symptoms as a result of the processing of those emotions (and withdrawal symptoms)

So, this is my first post to get my bearings for this blog. The next will be Day 1.

So it is.