I can't believe the year is half over (or half-full, depending on how you look at life?)!! So, yeah, half-over...
I'm kind of cynical these days and, I'll be honest, maybe a little bit depressed. My expectation for where I'd be right now is SO different from where I am. And I mean "where" in both a literal and abstract sense. I did not expect to be single and living with my mom at the age of 35. I did not expect to be needing gas and food money at this point in my life. It's all the more difficult for having been independent for so long. Not that I'm not grateful, because I am. I wouldn't be surviving right now with out her help and I know she likes to be able to help. But there's something about being a guy that makes me feel less of a man for having to be so dependent. It's humbling and, frankly, I don't like it. I probably need it though... :)
Also, I never saw myself as being unemployed, overweight and single at this "where" in my life either. In my mind I saw myself as being much more successful regarding employment, weight loss/improved health, certainly married with a kid or two, etc. But it hasn't happened. I guess what's hard is that I only have myself to blame. If it didn't happen, it's because I didn't make it happen. I obviously made the choices that did NOT lead to the outcome I expected or wanted. Right now I'm trying to NOT beat myself up for that, but honestly... self-pity is soooo easy and comes soooo naturally to me!! I'm sure that's the bulk of my problem right there...
I wish I could live inside the mind of a really healthy person and see what it's like. What's it like to always make the right choices? What's it like to be positive all the time and be able to put a positive spin on things, even when challenges occur? I've never been the motivational-Tony Robbins-lets-go-out-and-crush-the-world kind of guy. I admire people like that. People who set their mind to something and are successful at it no matter the cost. That's not me - I'm much more passive.
Being unemployed, I've had a lot of time to think about this. What I've uncovered is a deep-seated "core" belief that it's wrong to feel good about myself. I have no idea where or when this started. I have no idea what event or events lead to this being the case, but it's very clear to me now that this belief has underscored much of my belief system as a whole and how I approach life. Essentially, I approach life as if I'm undeserving and not good enough (i.e., I don't "measure up"). It's at the heart of why I'm afraid of everything - I'm afraid that I won't be equal to whatever task is before me and even if I do achieve some measure of success, I'm afraid I don't deserve it.
Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, you know what would be really cool? Getting inside the mind of a really healthy person and then putting that person back into my life and see how they handle things. From the moment they wake up in my life to the moment they go to bed, what different choices would they make and why? Of course it's just a thought experiment, typical of someone who tends to over-think everything, and not really anything that can bring resolution.
I'm not sure what my self-effacing beliefs buy me. Maybe it's a sense of false-humility. You know, the idea that "I'm humble because I hate myself?" Which is NOT what humility is, and I know that now, but maybe when I was a little kid I didn't know that...
Much more likely is the sense that self-loathing is somehow penance. It's possible that it grew out of a desire to "pay for my sins." It's the idea that I deserve to be punished because I did something wrong. Quite frankly, I did a lot of things wrong and felt that I deserved to be punished and that somehow God's punishment wouldn't be enough. I had to multiply His punishment by punishing myself. I suppose some people turn to physical means of punishment, but I turned to emotional means of punishment. Phrases with hurtful labels like "I'm so stupid, I'm so ugly/fat, I'm such a moron, I'm such an idiot," etc. ran through my mind so frequently that, eventually, the feelings that accompanied those thoughts just never went away. Feeling bad about myself became normal, status quo, just... who I am.
I think it's at the heart of why I feel I have to be perfect. Being perfect is the only way to make up for all the terrible things I did when I was younger. I could NOT allow myself to mess up or make a mistake. I held myself to a higher standard because anything less meant I wasn't good enough. And isn't that the expected standard? Aren't we commanded by the Savior himself to be perfect? So that was my justification for why I was right to expect perfection and condemn (within myself) anything that wasn't. And - bonus! - because I'm human and mess-up constantly, I had plenty of opportunity to berate myself and see my faults and flaws as PROOF that I was worthless. I was supposed to be perfect, but couldn't be and because I couldn't, I was worthless. The fault was always mine. It was always there, that feeling that there was just something wrong within me. That I, or my entire being, was somehow wrong.
Hence my love of hating myself. Depression? You betcha! Suicidal thoughts? Check! Actually, I don't think anyone knows that about me, or at least, they didn't until just now. A couple of times in Junior High, High School and later years, I was pretty close to suicide. Really close, actually. Ironically, I never went through with it because I knew I would mess that up too!
You know what I just realized? Self-pity gives you an odd sense of power over other people. It allows you to make other people around you helpless. Because the problem is within me, no one else can fix it and on some level I know this. So I tell people how horrible my life is because it gives me their pity, which is a twisted form of attention, but it also justifies my depression/self-loathing. And because there's nothing anyone can do to change that, it reinforces itself - it perpetuates itself. It's just another way of feeling good about feeling bad about myself. (This is kind of a major breakthrough for me!!)
The realization is half the battle. Now that I know this I want to be able to wake up tomorrow totally different, but I know that these negative beliefs are very well ingrained. The neural pathways that underlie these connections are hard-wired at this point. But I do know that the mind is capable of changing those pathways, but that it takes time and constant, conscientious, reinforcement. I suddenly feel like I'm not up to the task. See? I'm already battling myself on these things.
This is going to take some doing. I can see that. But it is possible. I've been so busy punishing myself that I've hardly had time to acknowledge that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and truly wants to help me. I haven't allowed the Savior to help me either, because I felt like I had to do everything on my own. It is also a self-inflicted punishment to deny the Savior's atoning sacrifice to work in my life. To refuse His grace. I need help knowing how to do that now. I need help knowing how to accept myself as a fallible human being, full of faults and flaws and knowing that I can't be perfect here, in this life, and that that's okay. Because for so long, it hasn't been.
I think I see now why I'm not "where" I wanted to be. I've been my own worst enemy. Granted, there is an adversary, pushing me to hate myself, but he never forced my hand. The poor choices I made were my own. And my thought patterns and beliefs have been working against me my entire life. I'm starting to feel like it's a miracle that I've achieved anything. That I'm even still here.
I have too many thoughts and emotions running through my mind and heart right now and all I can think is, how do I end this on a positive note?!? I realize now that what started as an update, was really something I've been needing to acknowledge for myself for awhile now. I was about to delete all of this and put it in another journal, but I've decided not to. It might be inappropriate for me to have put such personal things out there. But perhaps they had power over me precisely because I was afraid of acknowledging them. I so often retreat within myself, rather than reaching out and asking for help. This is my way of saying, "I'm not afraid anymore." And, if I'm right, I'm probably not alone in my "faulty" beliefs and if there's anyone out there who can be helped by knowing you're not alone, then it's worth it.
I have known and been loved by so many wonderful people in my lifetime. To those of you who fit that category, I'm so sorry that I was too broken to really appreciate you. I pray that from now on I can really let you in and feel like I'm worth it.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
Se la vie en Rose
Today marks the end of an era.
I sold my piano today.
I'm blogging about it because it affected me more than I thought it would.
I don't know what it was about seeing it strapped into someone else's trailer, but that was the moment when it "felt" like I was losing something. It had been carried onto the trailer, money changed hands, and I looked at it and realized it was no longer mine.
I know I'm far too sentimental about "physical objects" anyway, but this felt different. My parents purchased the piano thirty years ago - when I was five. It sat in the living room for a couple years before we moved to Highland. After a couple years there, when I was about 9 or 10, I heard some beautiful piano music, which spurred a desire in me to be able to do that as well. So I sat down and started picking out tunes to things and virtually taught myself to play. I didn't know it then, but I wasn't just learning to play the piano, I was beginning a relationship that would last for the next 25 years. (Only slightly less time than my relationships with my family and one close friend!)
I don't know why it is that I felt she had taken on a personality of her own. Maybe it was that she seemed to respond so well to my touch, whether gentle and light, or brutally heavy. It felt like she just loved to be played. Or maybe it was just that when I was playing, I could be myself. I wasn't very good, but she didn't seem to mind. For a fat little kid with virtually no friends and even less self-esteem, it meant the world to me that, in those moments, I could just be myself. When I played the piano I could be accurate or "fumbly" and she didn't care. She let me figure things out and was patient with me when a piece was particularly challenging. She didn't rush me or make me feel like something was way too advanced for me - which was usually the case! I could just be myself around her and that was good enough. I don't think she'll ever know how much that meant to me.
She's going to a good home where she will be lovingly played and most of all - appreciated. That's what I wanted for her, that another family or owner would see her value and appreciate her the way I do. I feel that's what she's getting. Her new family has young children who are learning to play, about the age I was when I started, so I know that she is perfect for them, because she was perfect for me.
It's strange, in a way, that we are both starting a new journey. We're both moving off to new places and will be "meeting" new people. I only realized, just now, that I am leaving with a greater sense of what she gave me so many years ago - the realization that it's okay to be me. I can just be myself and that's good enough. It's taken me a long time to learn that lesson, but she was with me through it all.
I know I'm stupid for feeling this way, but she holds a special place in my heart and I will miss her.
Her name was Rose.
I sold my piano today.
I'm blogging about it because it affected me more than I thought it would.
I don't know what it was about seeing it strapped into someone else's trailer, but that was the moment when it "felt" like I was losing something. It had been carried onto the trailer, money changed hands, and I looked at it and realized it was no longer mine.
I know I'm far too sentimental about "physical objects" anyway, but this felt different. My parents purchased the piano thirty years ago - when I was five. It sat in the living room for a couple years before we moved to Highland. After a couple years there, when I was about 9 or 10, I heard some beautiful piano music, which spurred a desire in me to be able to do that as well. So I sat down and started picking out tunes to things and virtually taught myself to play. I didn't know it then, but I wasn't just learning to play the piano, I was beginning a relationship that would last for the next 25 years. (Only slightly less time than my relationships with my family and one close friend!)
I don't know why it is that I felt she had taken on a personality of her own. Maybe it was that she seemed to respond so well to my touch, whether gentle and light, or brutally heavy. It felt like she just loved to be played. Or maybe it was just that when I was playing, I could be myself. I wasn't very good, but she didn't seem to mind. For a fat little kid with virtually no friends and even less self-esteem, it meant the world to me that, in those moments, I could just be myself. When I played the piano I could be accurate or "fumbly" and she didn't care. She let me figure things out and was patient with me when a piece was particularly challenging. She didn't rush me or make me feel like something was way too advanced for me - which was usually the case! I could just be myself around her and that was good enough. I don't think she'll ever know how much that meant to me.
She's going to a good home where she will be lovingly played and most of all - appreciated. That's what I wanted for her, that another family or owner would see her value and appreciate her the way I do. I feel that's what she's getting. Her new family has young children who are learning to play, about the age I was when I started, so I know that she is perfect for them, because she was perfect for me.
It's strange, in a way, that we are both starting a new journey. We're both moving off to new places and will be "meeting" new people. I only realized, just now, that I am leaving with a greater sense of what she gave me so many years ago - the realization that it's okay to be me. I can just be myself and that's good enough. It's taken me a long time to learn that lesson, but she was with me through it all.
I know I'm stupid for feeling this way, but she holds a special place in my heart and I will miss her.
Her name was Rose.
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