Perspective is an interesting thing. Suppose a friend of mine and I were struggling from two very similar problems, each dressed up in different scenarios, making the similarities less than transparent. Each problem can be solved with a similar solution, as the problems themselves are similar. My friend asks me for advice with the problem. As I listen, and think about my friend's problem, a solution will easily pop into my head. I will offer my sound advice, my friend will thank me, take my advice, and be happy with the way the situation worked out. So what do I do? I sit down and continue grinding my mental gears, completely unable to come up with a solution to my problem.
I just gave my friend the solution to my problem, but I can't accept it. I know of a solution that worked, but I still can't bring myself to take my own advice. I just can't see the connection between what I'm going through and what they are experiencing.
It's so easy to objectively see what other people are going through, and provide reasonable and sound advice. When we are standing on the outside looking in, it's as we can see the whole situation at once without any emotional attachments or feelings, and it seems it becomes much easier to provide an objective, logical solution. An acquaintance of mine, a girl, was in a poor relationship. Her boyfriend was too attached, emotionally abusive, and insecure. I knew she needed to end the relationship, and I said this to her. Another acquaintance of mine, a guy, was in a poor relationship. He knew he couldn't provide the love and support he needed to provide in order to treat his girlfriend the way she deserved to be treated. I politely advised him to end the relationship. Both friends admitted months after the fact that I had given them good advice. I was in a poor relationship. I was emotionally detached and dead inside (this was back when things started going down hill about six years ago or so). I had no idea what to do.
It's easy to objectively see other people's problems coming from an outside perspective. When the problems are our own, when we are on the inside looking out, suddenly the answers are not so clear, the objectivity disappears, and what was a situation we should know how to deal with now becomes a murky conundrum filled with variables and gray areas where there is no clear solution. What you feel and what you know aren't always the same (in my case they are almost never the same).
Someone doesn't necessarily have to be "smarter" than you to give you good advice on how to handle situations in your own life. Many times all it takes is a different perspective. Considering that, what's more is sometimes it helps just to have someone tell us what to do, even if we already knew exactly what we needed to do in the first place.
What's ironic is I'm terrible at asking for advice; I'm too independent, too proud, and unwilling to divulge my problems. This almost feels like a letter to me advising myself on how I need to be willing to ask others for help sometimes. It does not feel like anyone can help me, yet when the tables are turned I know I can help others - and I know I'm not brilliant, I'm just a different perspective.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Pigeonholed
It's frustrating; perhaps one of the most loathsome questions someone can ask me (and in my opinion ask anybody) is, "What's with you?". If it's a sunny day, and I just want to run around outside, if I have energy and I'm in a half decent mood (a fairly uncommon event) and it's showing, one simple way to ensure I stop feeling good is to ask me, "What's with you?". For me, it is as if the person asked me, "Why are you acting weird? Why don't you just go back to being yourself?"
At that point, I won't lose the energy, but I will lose the sense of freedom I had just been experiencing, and that combination only leaves room for active anger.
The problem here is it feels like no one wants you to be anything except the person they believe you to be; if you are not matching the profile they have constructed of you in their minds, there's a problem, and that is a problem. I understand people being upset with a man who is known for being gentle and calm then suddenly demonstrates violent behavior. I have no qualms with that. The problem is how difficult this pigeonholing effect makes it to change your behavior for the better.
I don't like the person I am. Every day I want to be someone else. Now, even though I make attempts to be something different, something better, playing 21 questions every time I do something out of character does not help. The fact that the people grilling me have no idea who I am does not make the situation any better. The fact of the matter is, I am not the person they've built me up to be, however their is a facade I've found easy to maintain. Neither the person I am, nor the person I pretend to be is someone I want to be. Many actors mix part of their own person in with the character they play; I do this as well, hence me pretending to be someone I don't want to be.
I'm getting off track; the point is this: let people do what they want to do and be who they want to be. Questioning the motives behind good behavior hardly facilitates positive change. If anything, the questions corrupt it. When someone starts applying themselves at school or at work, don't ask them, "since when were you so ambitious?" If you see someone start volunteering at a soup kitchen, don't ask them, "since when did you care about other people?" They don't need to be reminded they are changing, they already know. It's not unreasonable to be self-conscious about it. I feel in many situations, if the person changing were to respond honestly, he or she would say something along the lines of, "I don't like the person I am, and I'm trying to change it." That's not a message everyone wants to preach to the world.
As for being on the receiving end, now I usually just respond with a quizzical look and tell the person, "This is just what I want to do. What's it to you anyways?" At this point they'll usually get slightly offended, believing me to be disproportionately mad at their seemingly innocent inquiry, and walk away. Granted I may be angrier than the situation justifies, but I really do hate that question and the discouraging, reproving society it represents.
PS: I'm not saying people actively discourage each other from change, but we hardly promote it as much as we ought to.
At that point, I won't lose the energy, but I will lose the sense of freedom I had just been experiencing, and that combination only leaves room for active anger.
The problem here is it feels like no one wants you to be anything except the person they believe you to be; if you are not matching the profile they have constructed of you in their minds, there's a problem, and that is a problem. I understand people being upset with a man who is known for being gentle and calm then suddenly demonstrates violent behavior. I have no qualms with that. The problem is how difficult this pigeonholing effect makes it to change your behavior for the better.
I don't like the person I am. Every day I want to be someone else. Now, even though I make attempts to be something different, something better, playing 21 questions every time I do something out of character does not help. The fact that the people grilling me have no idea who I am does not make the situation any better. The fact of the matter is, I am not the person they've built me up to be, however their is a facade I've found easy to maintain. Neither the person I am, nor the person I pretend to be is someone I want to be. Many actors mix part of their own person in with the character they play; I do this as well, hence me pretending to be someone I don't want to be.
I'm getting off track; the point is this: let people do what they want to do and be who they want to be. Questioning the motives behind good behavior hardly facilitates positive change. If anything, the questions corrupt it. When someone starts applying themselves at school or at work, don't ask them, "since when were you so ambitious?" If you see someone start volunteering at a soup kitchen, don't ask them, "since when did you care about other people?" They don't need to be reminded they are changing, they already know. It's not unreasonable to be self-conscious about it. I feel in many situations, if the person changing were to respond honestly, he or she would say something along the lines of, "I don't like the person I am, and I'm trying to change it." That's not a message everyone wants to preach to the world.
As for being on the receiving end, now I usually just respond with a quizzical look and tell the person, "This is just what I want to do. What's it to you anyways?" At this point they'll usually get slightly offended, believing me to be disproportionately mad at their seemingly innocent inquiry, and walk away. Granted I may be angrier than the situation justifies, but I really do hate that question and the discouraging, reproving society it represents.
PS: I'm not saying people actively discourage each other from change, but we hardly promote it as much as we ought to.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Act I, Scene III
"Life's a stage." I feel I live that phrase. My life is an act, a show. I try so hard not to care what people think of me, yet I live my life ensuring they don't know the real me. My performance is good, though it is not perfect. Those closest too me know there's something different about me, but no one is able to put their finger on it. Most people are unaware of my issues. I'm able to cover them up. Even my social ineptitude I'm able to cover up by feigning a strong presence, confidence, and interest in others. Few people, if any, would look at my interactions with people and say I lack social skills though much of what I do has been researched, studied, and is based on imitating behavior I see in others. None of it is real.
Now, looking at the true me, the facts become clear. I have no true friends, only social acquaintances, and they are all "group based". When I spend time with people, it is only within a group which I have managed to attach myself to, however there exist no personal connections within any of these social groups. I have been single since I was a freshman in high school (before I began to lose my sense of self). Place me in a room full of people and I will sit silently until it becomes absolutely necessary to talk with someone, and then on the other side of the coin, force me to spend time with someone, even a "friend" (as opposed to an enemy), hours on end for months on end, and I will still feel no personal bond or connection between us. Quite simply, I am incapable of being true friends with anyone.
(My phone just rang... it was a wrong number)
I'm blaming it on my inability to be a genuine person, and of course the paradox is if I was truly genuine I would not even be able to retain acquaintances. I've been nick named the "Lone Wolf" by those who know me because they see I don't keep anyone's company. They see I will sit in a room, alone, for hours and they interpret that as me not needing company, because they believe if I wanted company, I would make company; someone with my self-confidence and sense of humor has no problem talking to people and making friends, right? The truth is I sit in my room alone because I don't know what else to do, talking to people is a chore, and I don't even know what it feels like anymore to be someone's "friend".
I used to have lots of friends, real friends, people who's company I actually enjoyed; I didn't just spend time with them to keep up appearances. Then I changed and I stopped making friends, I forgot how, and the friends I had began slowly drifting away.
The tragedy isn't that I "have no friends". No one would say that. The tragedy is that at some point I lost a big part of me that made me human. Now I'm trying to figure out what it was, and I'm trying to figure out how to get it back. Until then however, it's back to the act.
Now, looking at the true me, the facts become clear. I have no true friends, only social acquaintances, and they are all "group based". When I spend time with people, it is only within a group which I have managed to attach myself to, however there exist no personal connections within any of these social groups. I have been single since I was a freshman in high school (before I began to lose my sense of self). Place me in a room full of people and I will sit silently until it becomes absolutely necessary to talk with someone, and then on the other side of the coin, force me to spend time with someone, even a "friend" (as opposed to an enemy), hours on end for months on end, and I will still feel no personal bond or connection between us. Quite simply, I am incapable of being true friends with anyone.
(My phone just rang... it was a wrong number)
I'm blaming it on my inability to be a genuine person, and of course the paradox is if I was truly genuine I would not even be able to retain acquaintances. I've been nick named the "Lone Wolf" by those who know me because they see I don't keep anyone's company. They see I will sit in a room, alone, for hours and they interpret that as me not needing company, because they believe if I wanted company, I would make company; someone with my self-confidence and sense of humor has no problem talking to people and making friends, right? The truth is I sit in my room alone because I don't know what else to do, talking to people is a chore, and I don't even know what it feels like anymore to be someone's "friend".
I used to have lots of friends, real friends, people who's company I actually enjoyed; I didn't just spend time with them to keep up appearances. Then I changed and I stopped making friends, I forgot how, and the friends I had began slowly drifting away.
The tragedy isn't that I "have no friends". No one would say that. The tragedy is that at some point I lost a big part of me that made me human. Now I'm trying to figure out what it was, and I'm trying to figure out how to get it back. Until then however, it's back to the act.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Strange encouragement
I've been in an odd state of mind lately. I can't really feel anything at all. It's as if my mind is taking emotional pain killers. It's a relief from stress and anxiety, but it's also just empty. I'm in a state of mental purgatory. It's not really good or bad... It's just nothing.
I spent a large portion of tonight reading other people's blogs. I teared up while reading the blog of an abuse victim. It has been six months since I shed a tear, and that was after a mild rage attack (I was angry at myself, I'm very good about not getting angry with others). I read her story and my heart broke. What was odd however, was after reading through her anguish and torment, knowing that she was still here, able to articulate her pain and express it on the internet was actually inspirational.
My problems did not seem so insurmountable after that. My insecurities, my inability to function properly in social settings, my incapacity to experience joy or happiness, my self-loathing and sincere hatred of my life, my constant stress and anxiety, my utter and absolute failure to become the person I have spent the last 20+ years trying to become, my hopelessly permanent loneliness, the constant aura of misery eroding my mental and emotional being that never seems to go away, these things all seemed to pale in comparison to the atrocities some people are forced to endure.
My life certainly has not been a fairy tale, but at the same time I have never been raped, molested, or abused. I would say the absence of joy and goodness seems preferable to the presence of evil and terror. It seems better to fail to be human than to be crushed by humanity. If it's possible for them to live after the hardships they've endured, certainly there is a future for me.
My readings have also called to mind the possibilities opened by our sufferings. Suffering is never a blessing, however the growth that comes from our sufferings may certainly be used to bless others going experiencing what we have already experienced. In this way, it almost seems necessary for someone to suffer, that they might help someone else. Truth be told, I would not trade all my suffering in for a normal, happy life if my experience can be used to help someone else.
For those of you who read the Bible, the verse Hebrews 2:18 came to mind.
I spent a large portion of tonight reading other people's blogs. I teared up while reading the blog of an abuse victim. It has been six months since I shed a tear, and that was after a mild rage attack (I was angry at myself, I'm very good about not getting angry with others). I read her story and my heart broke. What was odd however, was after reading through her anguish and torment, knowing that she was still here, able to articulate her pain and express it on the internet was actually inspirational.
My problems did not seem so insurmountable after that. My insecurities, my inability to function properly in social settings, my incapacity to experience joy or happiness, my self-loathing and sincere hatred of my life, my constant stress and anxiety, my utter and absolute failure to become the person I have spent the last 20+ years trying to become, my hopelessly permanent loneliness, the constant aura of misery eroding my mental and emotional being that never seems to go away, these things all seemed to pale in comparison to the atrocities some people are forced to endure.
My life certainly has not been a fairy tale, but at the same time I have never been raped, molested, or abused. I would say the absence of joy and goodness seems preferable to the presence of evil and terror. It seems better to fail to be human than to be crushed by humanity. If it's possible for them to live after the hardships they've endured, certainly there is a future for me.
My readings have also called to mind the possibilities opened by our sufferings. Suffering is never a blessing, however the growth that comes from our sufferings may certainly be used to bless others going experiencing what we have already experienced. In this way, it almost seems necessary for someone to suffer, that they might help someone else. Truth be told, I would not trade all my suffering in for a normal, happy life if my experience can be used to help someone else.
For those of you who read the Bible, the verse Hebrews 2:18 came to mind.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Improvement
It seems humans were designed to improve what was given to them. Give a human a block of wood and it will be carved into shape or figure. Give a human a patch of dirt and it will be made into a garden. It's something humans do very well. What we don't do is create, and what we don't aspire for is destruction. In the technical sense, everything a man does is an improvement, not a creation. At best, the improvement will be a manifestation of an idea, but the improvement itself will still only be a modification of provided tools. Painters paint on paper, with oils. We do not create from nothing. To an important degree, a builder is only as good as the tools being used. Great men do much with little. Weak men do nothing with much. There is no blame for the man who was given nothing and produced nothing.
A person can partially measure himself/herself not by what has been created, but what he/she has done with what he/she has been given. What's hard for me is to see how little I've done, while it seems I've been given so much. We wonder why suicide rates are higher in America than in some poverty stricken countries. I'm sure it partially has to do with Maslow's hierarchy of needs and failing to meet key aspects. I think another part of it is that they've been given so little, they aren't disappointed when they struggle to bring home food, they are too proud when they finally acquire food to worry about how easy it is for us. However, maybe Americans (I am particularly guilty of this) see how easy everything is for us to get, and when we see how little we've done with our opportunity it leads us to feel like failures. This is just a thought.
A person can partially measure himself/herself not by what has been created, but what he/she has done with what he/she has been given. What's hard for me is to see how little I've done, while it seems I've been given so much. We wonder why suicide rates are higher in America than in some poverty stricken countries. I'm sure it partially has to do with Maslow's hierarchy of needs and failing to meet key aspects. I think another part of it is that they've been given so little, they aren't disappointed when they struggle to bring home food, they are too proud when they finally acquire food to worry about how easy it is for us. However, maybe Americans (I am particularly guilty of this) see how easy everything is for us to get, and when we see how little we've done with our opportunity it leads us to feel like failures. This is just a thought.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
July 28... is not about me.
July 28 is the date of my birthday. You probably noticed that July 28 is also today's date. When I was a child, birthdays were big celebrations where I had all my family and "friends" (so everyone I knew) over and there was a big party with cake, presents, and events. Now there's no cake, there's no party, and today there won't even be any friends, because the closest one lives about an hour away. There won't even be any family, because my closest family member lives 7 hours away. This year there will be only a drink at a bar, sitting alone, toasting myself to getting through one more year.
Here's the thing, in every situation an individual can either find something good or something bad. Being who I am, I naturally see everything what's wrong with the situation. One of the things I do that has allowed me to make it through to another birthday is forcing myself to see what's good, even in a bad situation. I may not feel it, I may not naturally notice it, but if I force myself, I can always find something. I don't enjoy doing this. I never want to do this. Sometimes I despise doing it, but I force myself to because I KNOW it helps me retain my sanity. It's not what I feel, but what I know to be true that sustains me.
Here is the good, the positive, the reason to keep on that I have found today, in the bleakness of my birthday:
I have driven hours to visit friends on their birthdays. I have rallied up groups to take kids out on their birthdays. At the very least, I have always at least forced a person out of the house, and celebrated with a drink or meal as a reminder to them that it was his or her birthday. These things are difficult for me to do (I'm not naturally the most energetic person in the world, and I almost always spend the whole time pretending to be in a good mood), but I do them because I know everyone appreciates being appreciated. So here I am, on my birthday, with no one else around, and no one is coming. After celebrating so many birthdays, it's easy to get down when no one comes for yours, but there is an upside. This event does remind me of one of life's truths that has helped me make it this far: It's not about me.
When my life revolves around me I notice my misery snowballs out of control. Sadness begets sadness. When I can only focus on myself, all I see is sadness and anger, and that does nothing more than fill me with a dark, frustrated rage. However, (this is what my birthday has reminded me) when I focus on other people it has a two pronged effect. First, it takes my eyes off of myself, and the rage that is born from seeing my hopeless struggles is transformed into empathy for others. Second, helping others gives me a reason to be. I don't care about myself. In fact, sometimes I hate myself for who I am and what I've allowed myself to become, but I do care about other people. I am not a reason for me to keep going, but other people can be. Sometimes, on the worst of days, the only thing keeping me going is knowing somewhere out there is some person that I might be able to help, and without me they may never see that help, even if it is as small as taking them out for their birthday. I may not feel these things, but I do know them.
Here's the thing, in every situation an individual can either find something good or something bad. Being who I am, I naturally see everything what's wrong with the situation. One of the things I do that has allowed me to make it through to another birthday is forcing myself to see what's good, even in a bad situation. I may not feel it, I may not naturally notice it, but if I force myself, I can always find something. I don't enjoy doing this. I never want to do this. Sometimes I despise doing it, but I force myself to because I KNOW it helps me retain my sanity. It's not what I feel, but what I know to be true that sustains me.
Here is the good, the positive, the reason to keep on that I have found today, in the bleakness of my birthday:
I have driven hours to visit friends on their birthdays. I have rallied up groups to take kids out on their birthdays. At the very least, I have always at least forced a person out of the house, and celebrated with a drink or meal as a reminder to them that it was his or her birthday. These things are difficult for me to do (I'm not naturally the most energetic person in the world, and I almost always spend the whole time pretending to be in a good mood), but I do them because I know everyone appreciates being appreciated. So here I am, on my birthday, with no one else around, and no one is coming. After celebrating so many birthdays, it's easy to get down when no one comes for yours, but there is an upside. This event does remind me of one of life's truths that has helped me make it this far: It's not about me.
When my life revolves around me I notice my misery snowballs out of control. Sadness begets sadness. When I can only focus on myself, all I see is sadness and anger, and that does nothing more than fill me with a dark, frustrated rage. However, (this is what my birthday has reminded me) when I focus on other people it has a two pronged effect. First, it takes my eyes off of myself, and the rage that is born from seeing my hopeless struggles is transformed into empathy for others. Second, helping others gives me a reason to be. I don't care about myself. In fact, sometimes I hate myself for who I am and what I've allowed myself to become, but I do care about other people. I am not a reason for me to keep going, but other people can be. Sometimes, on the worst of days, the only thing keeping me going is knowing somewhere out there is some person that I might be able to help, and without me they may never see that help, even if it is as small as taking them out for their birthday. I may not feel these things, but I do know them.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Suppression: A Ticking Time Bomb or a Strong Defense?
I've been accused of repressing my emotion, bottling it up. I've been told I should express my true emotions, if not to the whole world, at least to a close friend (the cynic in me wonders if these people telling me this wish to be "the close friend" I choose to disclose my emotions to, if only to satisfy their curiosity and develop a deeper understanding of me; it is a paranoid thought, I know, but it is at least grounded in personal experiences from the past).
These people will ask, "Are you TRULY happy?" To be honest, I can't remember the last time I could honestly answer "yes" to that question, however, saying "no" merits at least a thirty minute conversation with someone about one of my problems which they can do nothing about. Is it really such a bad thing to say no? Is it my responsibility to myself and my emotional stability to answer "yes", and pour out my heart? I feel like it's not.
What's more, having such discussions only reminds me I'm not the person I wish I was. I am blessed in that I am not always consciously aware of my misery. It is similar to physical pain. A broken leg will cause a consistent, dull pain, all the time. It is possible for the owner of such a leg to take his mind off of that pain through other activities (or other forms of pain). Asking him how his leg feels makes him focus on the pain again. Trying to use the leg will amplify the levels pain he is feeling by several orders of magnitude. In the same way, when someone asks me how I'm feeling (on a good day), it reminds me of the constant, never ending, dull misery that is always around me. However, having a conversation about my emotions and trying to work through them is about as pleasant as walking on a broken leg. It only aggravates the injury, and I will continue to feel the effects from the freshly opened wounds for several days.
Can I exist in the superficial? Can I survive on ignorant happiness? Is it not better to let sleeping dogs lie?
If I've found one thing to work, and another to fail; it seems reasonable then to go with what works. Choosing the lesser of two evils is never ideal; however, neither is life. Suppressing emotion is not the answer, I know this, but at the same time, what's the point of poking a bruise if it only reminds you that it still hurts?
These people will ask, "Are you TRULY happy?" To be honest, I can't remember the last time I could honestly answer "yes" to that question, however, saying "no" merits at least a thirty minute conversation with someone about one of my problems which they can do nothing about. Is it really such a bad thing to say no? Is it my responsibility to myself and my emotional stability to answer "yes", and pour out my heart? I feel like it's not.
What's more, having such discussions only reminds me I'm not the person I wish I was. I am blessed in that I am not always consciously aware of my misery. It is similar to physical pain. A broken leg will cause a consistent, dull pain, all the time. It is possible for the owner of such a leg to take his mind off of that pain through other activities (or other forms of pain). Asking him how his leg feels makes him focus on the pain again. Trying to use the leg will amplify the levels pain he is feeling by several orders of magnitude. In the same way, when someone asks me how I'm feeling (on a good day), it reminds me of the constant, never ending, dull misery that is always around me. However, having a conversation about my emotions and trying to work through them is about as pleasant as walking on a broken leg. It only aggravates the injury, and I will continue to feel the effects from the freshly opened wounds for several days.
Can I exist in the superficial? Can I survive on ignorant happiness? Is it not better to let sleeping dogs lie?
If I've found one thing to work, and another to fail; it seems reasonable then to go with what works. Choosing the lesser of two evils is never ideal; however, neither is life. Suppressing emotion is not the answer, I know this, but at the same time, what's the point of poking a bruise if it only reminds you that it still hurts?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)