Weekly entry

Sunday, July 1, 2018 8:58 PM

Feeling worthless again. Has been a very hard couple weeks.

Why does life feel like this constant struggle?

Sitting in my car before going back into my apartment and for a second I got a feeling about what it might be like to just feel at peace with life.

It was gone as so as I entered into my apartment. I have a roommate that I am close with, but they are often out, and when I enter alone, a wave of depression hits me.

But then again, when I’m alone and being productive and my roommate returns, suddenly I can’t focus as well anymore.

Does anyone experience this as well? Specifically the wave of depression upon entering back into your home? Sometimes I hate returning to my apartment. Why? I hate being alone? There are many times where I love being alone. But… I am definitely looking for a partner. Or at least I want a partner.

Gah I’m struggling to write, now, but I need to just keep writing. I want to find my voice. Eventually the idea is that I’ll stop apologizing for my writing and my feelings and settle into a sense of identity.

And that’s just it – so many successful people have this solid, stable sense of identity – of how they act around people, of what they do for a living, of what they do in their free time, of what they are working toward in life.

I don’t have any of that – the stability that is. I am always wondering about how I should act, what I should do. Maybe I am not so alone in this. Maybe I’m just jealous of those who have always known what they’ve wanted to do, or at least have stable careers, incomes, parents.

Ok I know I’m in complaining mode now, but I don’t care. I have this compulsion to just regurgitate whatever I’m feeling. We are in FMV mode – find my voice mode – right now. I do want to become a better writer. Best way to do that is to write. A number of people have told me to tell my story, and that I have a lot to say [eye roll] … [eye roll at the eye roll]. I’d like to do that. I would.

Do I want “fame” or anonymity? I think a lot of us have craved fame, but it comes at such a big cost of privacy. I want to be able to just explore and observe the world without wondering when I am going to be interrupted next.

Write and read. That’s what I need to do. Feels like there’s no time for any of it. That I’m just stuck in my terrible job. But hey, I’m writing here now instead of watching some mind-numbing thing on YouTube or playing a videogame.

Hate myself. But I don’t. Ugh. I feel like I have the beginning stages of schizophrenia sometimes. I hear my thoughts way too clearly, all the time.

I could rename this blog “cringeworthy”. Uggghhhh. There is nobility in the effort though. When will I be able to point to something and say, “Yes! That – that is not cringeworthy – that is worth sharing”? I don’t know. Why do I share these stream of conscious rants? Because I need a witness to my life. Some kind of witness. Maybe it’s related to the biological urge to reproduce / create and pass of genes / information – is the urge to reproduce in its essence DNAs “desire” for immortality? It knows that its host will eventually die and that it must survive somehow? Is me writing this and sending it off some form of wanting to be immortal? To somehow survive my death, regardless of how? Or is it just for attention (which could be argued is also related to reproduction?).

I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.

My goal is to try and get a post out at least every 2 weeks. Maybe eventually 1/week. I want to develop a habit of writing / publishing. And I do feel slightly better.

Recapping my last post, there was no engagement, ha, but that’s ok. The post was all over the place. I’m resigned to the fact that for the next few posts (and who knows, maybe this entire blog) will simply be an awkward cringeish stream of conscious that I will never read again and hope someone burns after I die.

Just one human trying to survive. Just trying to find a sense of peace and purpose. I find glimpses – not everything is doom and gloom. Some good things:

Free outdoor concerts | finishing a section of a language program | icepops on a hot summer day | running into friends | clean laundry | good coffee | a small bit of activism | family

Ok, until next time. MBM

Is the world doomed or can we save it?

6/18/2018 6:52:57 PM

Monday

[Grow Till Tall -Jónsi]

Taking another crack at this.

I enjoy writing, but I feel like it can be missing a lot. I wish I could add pictures, illustration, video, music.

Have lots of feelings and ideas, and writing / reading can only do so much.

I have a few personal projects. What kind of personal projects are you all trying to accomplish?

Being better about practicing an instrument or a language or cooking?

Getting a degree?

Raising a kid / family?

I am trying to love myself and my life more. For a long time, I have been in a dark place. Have felt very alone at times.

At the core of it though is a sense of worthlessness. That I have nothing of value to bring to the table. Which means, if I ever do become a subject of conversation for whatever reason, I’ll be met with pity, derision, bafflement, or perhaps the worst – complete disinterest. For whatever reason… I am hard-wired to think about how I will present myself to others. Or how I will fit in with others. I can’t seem to stop thinking about how other people will think about me.

[Hengilás -Jónsi]

While I know I ‘shouldn’t’ care about this, I do. This is part of who I am – wondering about what others are thinking. Wondering how every little action, word, expression, reaction, nonaction is being interpreted, if at all, and why. How are all these reactions changing my relationship with the current person I am talking to, if at all? It’s like I am constantly aware of the relationship and watching a constantly progressing line graph – with every good joke or interaction I make, the line rises. With every bad, the line falls.

So rather than berating myself for caring about what others think so much – as yes, I am working on developing my own sense of self regard – that is absolutely priceless and indispensable, but for me to have the goal of stopping carry what others think about entirely or even to a tiny fraction of my day is just not worth my energy right now. What is worth my energy is figuring out how to channel this proclivity.

[Festival -Sigur Rós]

I love discussion. I am bad at it, haha. But I love it. I love analyzing discussions and seeing the flow of logic. Again – I think I am bad at it. I am an ok writer. Not great. I tend to ramble. My thoughts are scattered. I hate being critiqued. But… like before, I can’t seem to stop thinking about discussions and the flow of energy, logic. Has someone been persuaded? Is there merit to what is being said? What drives someone to stick their neck out there and state an opinion or reaction anyway?

Maybe (more rambling) I just enjoy collaboration?

I want to collaborate and explore topics together.

One thing I love are book clubs – even though I’ve only discussed one book in a book club in my adult life, not including college. The process of picking things apart. Seeing the merit. Giving others the benefit of the doubt that their perspective is valid. Seeking understanding and learning instead of bristling at different viewpoints. Respectful dialogue.

Where am I going with all of this?

[Youth – Daughter]

  • How do we love ourselves in the face of feeling absolutely worthless? Why do we feel worthless in the first place?
  • What are some holistic approaches to addressing the different kinds of depression / social isolation / addiction that draws upon the best research? What are some of the cause of these?
  • How do we make the world better? (with the implied question of – the world is in need of betterment / how is the world need of betterment?

These are the questions I’m thinking about right now – I welcome dialogue and your own questions. Maybe we can try and explore this together so we are not so alone with our questions and feelings.

And sure… I could start a discussion club with real live people… in some ways I am already taking steps toward that because of a new group I am beginning to dabble in.

[Ether -We Are All Astronauts]

But writing is also a creative and expressive process. I enjoy the aloneness of writing, but also the wonderment of… who else is watching / feeling this (feeling my same feelings, asking my same questions) from across the gulf of time and space / the internet?

Critical me: “You know, I bet what you just wrote has been written a million times on a blog. Aka, you’re unoriginal. No one is going to want to read this. People will have seen this a million times before. Aka don’t publish this. You also haven’t edited it at all. Aka it’s bad. Just don’t do this. Don’t do this.

Response: Yeah… some of what you say may be right. But… I know you’re also coming from a place of fear / protection – you just don’t want me to be hurt. What’s the worst that can happen? I get a bunch of comments criticizing me? Ok. Say it happens. Was it worth it? I enjoyed this process. I am curious about exploring this process more. I am curious about the equation of:

I put time / effort into expressing myself in some way -> I put it out there as a question to begin a dialogue / collaboration with others -> I wait and see the results.

[M83 – Un Nouveau Soleil (audio)]

At least I tried something?

And the theories of probability / physics know I’ve been trying for a really long time. At least I’ve got that – my heart is in the right place, even if it is blindfolded in a dark room, bumping into wall to wall, making more trouble for itself.

Will I just make more trouble for myself? Eh.

Let’s just take a dive. At least I’ll say I tried. The point is that I’m trying to be true to who I am:

I need to express, question, wonder. I am fascinated by what others think. I want to make the world a better place. I want to help others who are going through similar feelings of worthlessness, isolation, despair. I want to grapple with the many social / economic / political / religious / environmental issues. Is there a way to save the world, or is the world doomed?

I guess let’s start with that:

Is there a way to save the world or is the world doomed?

I would love to hear from you in the comments and start a discussion. Feel free to comment on anything else you found interesting in this post. Thanks for reading.

Best wishes going forward and until next time.

MBM

6/18/2018 7:30:49 PM

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.

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?

170713 Thursday – Day 3

Partner is moving (will break up). I calm myself down after having racing thoughts.

5.5-6 hours of sleep.

Am I writing for people? Am I writing for myself?

What is happening?

(I am in one of my spiraling inner panic / anxiety / self-doubt episodes right now).

My partner is moving several states away soon, and at first I thought maybe I’d move out there with them, but there’s a new opportunity for me here, and as a result, we will probably break up.

Feeling a whole mix of emotions.

Calm.

Deep breath.

Calm.

7:41 AM – There’s this kind fascinated horror that happens – there’s the ‘panicker’:

“But what about this?! And what about that?! And this?!” They’re running around, flopping down in despair. Just kind of crazy, and all the while, there’s this other part, the observer, that can only watch:

“Uhhhhhh” And the observer is kind of panicking, too: “Dunno what to do! Dunno what to do! D…”

But deep breaths.

One thing at a time. One

thing

at

a

time.

 

Calm. Deep breaths.

 

I feel the chaos.

 

And I can also feel the calming effect of deep breaths.

Both can be true.

 

This blog keeps me accountable.

This blog helps keep me accountable.

(See how I like to externalize responsibility?)

 

Now I feel like crying.

 

Relax the shoulders.

 

So…

so much tension…carried in there.

Relax the back the arms.

Hard to open the chest while typing.

But I want to relax that too.

Always crying.

Always in pain.

But always in breath, too.

Gah that was melodramatic.

Roll credits. (Self-hate)

So…

Breaths.

Breaths.

I don’t feel…Ok, a part of me doesn’t feel like this breakup will be good for me. It’s established so much stability in my life. It’s brought me a lot of joy. Have learned tons about myself and how to navigate awkward, difficult parts with someone very close to you.

“They fill me with so much joy” (i.e. I won’t have that joy when they’re gone).

“When I see them, when I am with them, I feel joy.” (This takes more agency).

What is the self? (Rising panic, and beginning philosophical ramble: where is the human race headed? does my life mean anything? what would it take to get to a society living in harmony with itself and the rest of the biosphere? nothing I do matters. it’s all hopeless. Is there an afterlife? What difference would it make?)

All of this is a way to keep myself stimulated. It’s distracting. It causes more anxiety.

What’s helpful right now?

Making a schedule for the day:

Just made my list. It’s just one thing at a time.

Embodying the parent.

Fostering the parent self.

The parent self is calm. It doesn’t necessarily know what to do, but it knows that being confidently, gently calm with deep breaths, and thinking about basic next steps just for today, are important.

Foster the parent self.

So, a lot of this is very stream-of-conscious, if you couldn’t tell already. 8:08am Lolz