The Crosses We Bear.

Sometimes being a thoughtful person just plain sucks. Remembering dates is a good thing in a relationship but when that relationship ends those same memories become a burden.

A year ago today was my first date with my ex. She has been on my mind again quite a lot lately. I have moved on but I am still a long way away from getting over her. In fact, those pesky memories have played a rather cruel trick on me a couple of weeks ago.

In the meantime, between the missing Malaysian airliner and the fun in Ukraine, I am not sure it is worth it to get out of bed in the morning. No, wait… I still have to work for a living. Damn the reality!

Random Thoughts.

I really have been quite undisciplined about writing and that needs to change. In the meantime, here are a couple of random observations on how not to lead one’s life.

Observation 1. There are those storytelling shows that are en vogue these days and a thought occurred in my head that it would be fun to do something like that. Except, as I came to realise, the way Yours Truly has led his life is by not participating in it. So something would be happening and instead of living it up I would just scamper away sideways, like a frightened crab, and be all “Oh, no! That seems like fun. I’ll be over there. By myself.” Not a proper way to experience life, is all I’m saying.

Observation 2.
Let me preface this by saying that this one is being done quite a lot by all kinds of people. There is a large number of individuals who believe that they need to be true to themselves and being true to themselves basically boils down to being an annoying prick. Personally, I would be in a state of preemptive warfare against the society at large and my attitude towards others would be to behave like a sarcastic arsehole, spewing my verbal shit on everyone and everything. I know: a pretty picture it is not. And my thought process would be: “Hey, I’m just going to piss you off before we get close and you hurt me. And also, if you still stick around then you really see me for who I am and that means you are a really special person worth my time if you can see through all the shit I will be pouring down on you for a while.” Again, terribly sorry for the image. But the important thing here is: who in their right mind does this? We certainly do not consider doing this in other situations but when it comes to human relationships that can be a norm. Can you imagine a chef making an exquisite dish with some spectacular ingredients like saffron and other stuff I cannot begin to imagine and then spreading some mixing in some shit (yeah, I might as well stay with that metaphor and ride it all the way), thinking that only the true foodies will appreciate this gem of the dish being able to taste this delight through all the crap. That too is also a horrible way to go through life.

I guess what this post is attempting to convey is do not be afraid to live your life and do not be an arse. Which might sound like a way of saying “Neither a borrower nor a lender be” but while it is important “to thine own self [to] be true” one needs to engage in life and not stay detached from others. Kurt Vonnegut was right about Polonius giving bad advice. Yours Truly, on the other hand, is a fount of encouragement.

P. S. You probably thought it was going to be all poop references but instead I looped it up to Shakespeare. You’re welcome!

The Wonder.

As I wander this night in my neighbourhood park
And I peer inside at my self that’s so dark
I cry out “Oh, Angel! Why did you go away?
Why did you have to leave me, let my sunshine turn grey?
Will I meet some else? Will she love me as due?
Will our love be as strong as what I felt for you?”
As I wander alone in the darkness again
Your image returns like a bane of my brain.

Like a desert mirage your friendship has gone.
You left me alone with one hope forlorn.
One hope that maybe in some strange universe
You are loving me back. Is that so perverse?

As I stand here tonight, in this cold, lonely park
I strive not to dwell on the past oh so dark.
But I wish you were here. I can’t help it, I do.
And I beg your forgiveness for having fallen for you.

Things Could Always Be Worse. Always.

I’ll be processing this for a while… An old friend, who has fallen out of touch, reached out recently to reconnect with me. We chatted for a bit. She told me that she has been going through some really dark time and that she is currently dealing with the filing sexual assault charges against a family member for stuff that happened when she was little. She also asked me how I have been doing. What could I tell her? “Well, there’s this thing that happened earlier this year… I’ve been uhhhh… You know what? I am fine.”

I did tell her in broad strokes about my stuff. If nothing else, she knows she is not alone. Her fiancé is a great guy and he is very supportive but regardless of the nature of the trauma, nobody who has not been there could know what it is like to peer into the black emptiness of rock bottom. One of the things we spoke about is the healing properties of blogging. She has opened an account on a blog platform some time ago but never wrote anything because she has been approaching it from the wrong side. Between getting her to blog and possibly bringing her around to improv, I just might be helpful in getting her back to being her old happy self.

Regrets.

Last night’s dreams were pretty weird. I think I dreamt about every regret in my life. Yes, her included.

I usually enjoy my dreams. Often enough they are like big Hollywood productions. There are exciting storylines, fantastic special effects, surprising twists. It is like watching a movie and being in it at the same time.
But last night’s fare was more of an art house cinema: dark and no happy end in sight. Which is a good reminder that although I am as “over” her as one can be, my underlying problems are still hanging over me like a depressing sword of Damocles. For so long the pain over our breakup hung over Yours Truly’s eyes like a veil of pain and sorrow and obscured the view behind it. Now that this veil has been lifted, the giant snowball of problems accumulated over the last two decades is in plain view: daunting, looming, casting a shadow over everything in my life. Why did I not seek help earlier? Why did I not go see a therapist a year and a half ago when I have originally asked for a referral? Why did I not do it over ten years ago when I was initially diagnosed with ADHD and was strongly encouraged to speak to a professional about my depression issues?

Few days ago, I was chatting with my improv friends. The conversation came to a topic of age (because as it turns out, one in our midst was somewhat of an overachiever and has just completed his post-doc at the tender age of 27). So the psychology grad in the group has mentioned her view of mid-twenties as a time of self-discovery, when one goes down the dark path inside oneself and looks at the dark and horrible figure within, points at it, and asks the eternal question: “Who are you?”. (She may or may not have had a few beers by the time I joined the party. I had a good reason to be late – I was having a slight anxiety attack.) In any case, it seems I’m a decade late to that existential internal trip as well.

Regrets, regrets…

Me Like Me Long Time?

It is hard to remember sometimes (most of the time) that there are people in this world that like me and that are happy to see me. There are not a great many of them due to my natural propensity to be a miserable prick but I am working on learning to like myself. (That is something that came up in therapy a couple of sessions ago.) The idea being that being able to like myself will show others that I am a person worth their friendship.

In the meantime, I am practicing being that person, meaning that I am faking it.¬† Regardless of how far I have come, Yours Truly is still mainly the same person. So until I can “know” that I am better than I think I am (that is a lot of “I’s”!), there is this practice period of pretending to know that I am a person I actually am. It is complicated. My mind technician assures me that it makes sense.

That noise – you know the one – the general din of a group of people in a bar, the sound of billiards balls hitting each other, the white noise of a sport event on the big screen. And over it all the inner voice reminding of all the reasons why I should leave and go home. So here I am – procrastinating – instead of going to the birthday party for my friends because social occasions still cause me tremendous anxiety and feeling of pointlessness because the future old me does not believe to be the person worth anyone’s company.

Oh, well. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.”

Love Letter #8. The Final Cut.

Dear I.,

Happy birthday! I realise that in Your response to me to my message following our breakup, You have told me to stay away and not contact You. For the last four months I have done just that and, unless at some future date both of are able and willing to change that status quo, will continue to honour Your wish, save for this one occasion of your 29th birthday.

If You have not by now, shortly You will receive a gift that I had posted to you few days ago from a store in the Dominican Republic. I remember Your preference for colour blue and wooden jewellery. Add to that the colour of Your eyes and I think the Dominican blue-green amber would fit You quite nicely.

It is my sincerest hope that You will accept that gift in the spirit that it is given. It pains me deeply to know that our post-breakup communication has caused You to be so incredibly angry with me so as to cut off all lines of communication. Please believe me when I say that it was never my intention to upset You or cause You pain or discomfort, nor do I wish that Your last memory of me be such a negative one. For the all too short a time that we were together, You have given me such happiness and a feeling of peace. You have made me believe that my life needs not be one of misery and despair. You gave me hope when I had none, nor knew what one felt like. And for that I will be eternally grateful to You.

Goodbye (perhaps?), I. I miss You dearly.

Love,
YT.

New Beginnings?

This post is being published under the category “Road To Recovery.” I am, in fact, actually on the road. This is a long trip and I am super nervous about this holiday and how this is going to unfold.

Last night some stuff went down involving my Ex (we still have not spoken but there was a really intense message exchange) and I am feeling better about myself and about not being with her. For the first time since our breakup I am starting to feel that things are going to be alright. I am feeling free. There is that to be Thankful for. (There will be another post on that in several days when I get back.)

But for now, this is all about this dream challenge of mine coming straight at Yours Truly. I am on my way to go ice climbing on Mt Washington in New Hampshire. This is not my first visit to the Presidential Range but this is my first trip to Mt Washington. I have definitely overpacked and will need to repack once we arrive there. We will be spending three days and two nights on the mountain itself. I got ice tools, walking ice axe, crampons, REALLY warm sleeping bag, and ton of shit that I do not need but that makes me feel better.

I am quiet excited. I have been ice climbing for several years but this is my first mountaneering ascent. And I am starting with Mt Washington. As the saying goes “Go big or go home.” I am going BIG.

I could not have gotten here without the amazing support of the WordPress community. Some of you have chosen to honour me with awards for my blog and I promise to get to writing about that very soon. You guys are my rock and my sun. When I was down, you picked me up and carried me in the palm of your hand even as you all were dealing with your pains and your hurts. Even as you all have been struggling with darkness, you had time and grace to talk to me and care for me. I would love to do more for all of you. I love all of You, my dear readers and I look forward to doing more for You.

All The Difference.

It is helpful to be able to express my feelings and share them immediately. This community has been very supportive and inspiring. More so than many realise.

The way I personally chose to go about blogging is to do it as anonymously as possible. It gives me freedom to be as honest and open as possible without fear of judgement spilling into my offline world.

This right here, is – for me – the difference between putting down in writing my inner struggles and being too dead to do so.