The Importance of Being Honest with Oneself

Since finishing up school in February of last year, my hopes have been dashed, plans went awry, and perspectives endlessly challenged.  It sucks.  It really does.  I feel a mix of, but not necessarily simultaneously at any given time, confusion, disappointment, anxiety, self-doubt, and a loss of control, self-esteem, and confidence.

What also sucks is that I have pride.  I find myself naturally wanting to appear to others that I have things under control, that I am fine, that I've got everything under cover.  I swallow my pride every time I state that I am unemployed, jobless.  I dont have my life under control, this voice in the back of my head will say.  And I continue to lie to myself that simply "getting over" undesirable feelings and negative emotions is perfectly fine in terms of dealing with the many adverse things that come my way, that by stifling your personal issue and sweeping it under the rug, you won't have to deal with it again.  But I'm getting this nagging feeling that... maybe that's not the way it works.  That just continuing to sweep issue after issue under the rug doesn't really end up with them magically disappearing from your conscience and affecting your emotional well-being.  That just drinking away your sorrow -- every sorrow and disappointment -- will also wash it away, never to be seen again.

Because, you know, I want to be emotionally strong.  I want to be emotionally invulnerable.  I don't want to be hurt, I don't want to be disappointed, and I don't want anyone -- or more, anything -- having a grip at my heart.  I'm so sick of emotions.  I want to be strong.

I promised myself in boot camp that I was never going to cry again.  But I broke that promise several times now, with the last incident during a new church visit this past weekend.

Maybe I shouldn't try to be this way.  Shenny suggested that my military experience was not a positive one for me.  She may be right.  In hindsight, it also seems right that my method of dealing with issues was and is unhealthy.

But I want to be emotionally strong.  I don't want to become soft, even to myself.  They say acknowledging that a problem exists is the first step in solving a problem... but I thought I didn't have any problems or issues?  Doesn't it mean that there's an issue only if you acknowledge it?

Then why do I shed tears?  Why do I feel lonely, and why do I desire warmth and unconditional acceptance?  Why do I yearn for loving arms?  Why do I want to be told that it's all going to be okay?  Why am I on the verge of tears?

Scribbling

What great achievements would you pursue if you knew you would not fail?

Saturday November 21, 2015

Can you see the anguish in his face?

Only the dead have seen the end of war.

Conviction for Blogging in Chicago

I am strongly convicted to resume personal blogging here, as I deem it fit as one of the only outlets that I currently have (other than alcohol, or in combination with alcohol) for letting off frustration, loneliness, sadness, and, to a lesser degree, disappointment.  Perhaps, it is an attempt for me to fend off any one, or combination, of them, including depression.

I think depression is real.  You don't know it unless you've had it.

You don't know anyone else's suffering until you've experienced it firsthand yourself.

You don't know suffering until you've experienced it firsthand yourself.

Powerlessness

D+27 into Chicago, IL

I remember watching Interstellar on TV this past summer in Walpole, MA, where I was blessed to find a place to stay with the Norbergs while I was figuring my life out after graduating from Middlebury.  I remember feeling deeply touched by powerful emotions on several instances during the movie, emotions on a level that I have not felt before in quite a long time.  I remember this once scene where Cooper, the protagonist in the movie, trapped in the Tasseract for an unknown period of time, gets to somehow see his past self futilely consoling his young daughter of the fact that he will be going away on a... quite uncertain space mission to hopefully find a new, second home for planet Earth.

As he painfully watches a pivotal scene of his past unfold where his daughter becomes upset at his upbringing of the news, Cooper himself becomes wracked with deep anguish and intense anger, yelling at his pre-teen daughter, named Murph, through the space-time continuum of her bedroom --

"Tell him, Murph. Make him stay."

Of course, he only sees the past events leading up to the same course of history that has led him here.

"Make him stay, Murph." But his voice is useless -- nobody can hear him. And his voice starts to quiver, as he starts to observe his past self begin to leave the room, begin on his way back to the space station, begin on his one-way journey off to outer space, begin on his path of no return.

"Don't let me leave, Murph! Don't let me leave, Murph!"

And Cooper starts to break down, banging his fists on the invisible wall separating himself from the other side of ... time,  He is powerless.

"No! No! NO!" He keeps banging on the wall, with tears running down his face inside his spacesuit.  As much as Cooper wants to try, as hard as he can bang his fists on the wall, no matter how loud he yells at the other side of space, there is nothing that he can do to change what has happened.

But his voice is unheard. Cooper is powerless in that moment.

As much as I like to believe that we, as humans, are capable beings, we have very limited control over certain aspects of life.  In those moments, we become - or remain? - powerless. We become powerless to bring change.  And one of the strongest convictions that I developed over the short span of life I have lived so far is that I don't want to be powerless, ever.  It is one of the greatest fears I have developed.  It is this specific reason as to why I hate seeing myself become mentally, physically or emotionally weak or dependent upon others at certain times in my life.

I wish I could actually help the ones that I love and need, instead of being powerless.




But as I write this and watch the clip again, the scene, with Zimmerman's music, moves me to tears.  It reminds me why I was so moved to conviction from reading Cannery Row.  It reminds me why there are so many other things in life that are of much greater importance than the short-sightedness of my mind and emotions allow me to think.

Two weeks into Chicago

I remember people asking me where I'm from, and I remember wondering whether I'm from the Greater Boston area, Vermont, Thailand, or Korea. So I tell them I've been in Boston for the past 8 months. The past 8 months! It's hard to believe that my time in Boston has already been "the past 8 months."

D-75 Night Terrors

I recall having several night terrors over the course of the past six-or-so years, and I remember them being absolutely horrible.  The last night terror I had was just a little over a month ago, and it happened on a random night's sleep in my dorm room.  I will recount the story later, as I wanted to highlight a particular story I found online during my search for a possible meaning behind my nightmare.

So, I wake up in my bed (this is at my parents house, a fair few years ago), and I decide I am really, really thirsty. So I head down stairs for a drink. I start walking down stairs, until I hit the 14th step (I'm Autistic and OCD, knowing how many stairs their are is important to me). This was odd because I have 13 steps, so I continue walking. I get to the 42nd step and I notice that I'm now in fact walking up stairs, but in the same direction. Keep in mind, that I am in sleep state, dream state. I'm very susceptible, and rather dim ;D. I continue up these steps, but then I notice that I've been flipped upside down, and I'm walking on my hands, up the stairs. The path spirals, and I feel my self spinning. This scares me a fair bit so... 

I wake up in my bed. Startled and straight up. I look around and I'm relieved I just had a bad dream. I go to put the light on, but it doesn't work. I go to check in my wardrobe for a new light bulb when I look at a loose wire dangling from a shelve. I go to put it up when I notice it's a stretched out face, like in 'The Scream'. I jump back, and feel hands at my spine, I turn and...
I wake up in my bed. By now I'm getting a little worried, so I stay in bed. I hear planes outside. I look outside the window and I see bombs falling. I go to jump out of my bed to warn my family but fall flat on my face, because my legs are chained. I start screaming for my family, when my little brother passes through the closed door, ghost like, grins, and turns into a plane... demon... thing. I hear an explosion, and... well, I feel it, I won't go further into that one...

I wake up in my bed. Screaming this time. My (now ex) Girlfriend is there, and she comforts me. She calms me down after I explain it all and she tells me it's just a bad dream. I'm much calmer now. She kisses me and we get romantically involved. Not to go into too much detail, she's on top (I did say it gets risque). She says something that I know she'd never say, and I realise that she was never in the bed with me, she wasn't sleeping around that night. I tell her this, and this must be another dream, and she stops, dead. Silent. She screams and melts on top of me, her arms in my hands. I scream and...

I wake up, in my bed. By now I've cottoned on to what is happening. I keep screaming and the duvet gets tighter around me. The more I scream the more it does this, whilst figures dance on the ceiling, dangling marionettes and laughing. I sink deep into the bed and...

I wake up, in my bed. It is about here that a lot of the sequences are fuzzy. I remember trying to escape, trying to ignore, laughing it off, none of it to any effect. I remember seeing a lot of figures, and various animals (snakes etc), and some calmer ones like the first ones, where I have to find what's happening. Other than that, not much, until...

I wake up, in my bed. This time I head straight for the door, full speed. I'm getting out. I go to run down the stairs when I see my step dad in front of them, kneeling. I trip on him and fly down the stairs. I try to get up but I'm getting heavier and heavier with each breath. I notice I'm turning into melting rock. I head into the living room and my step dad is there again, kneeling. I go towards him, when I feel something turn me around and push me over him. I look up, and standing over him is something in the shape of a person... the only way I can describe it is a different shape of light... It has a blade for a limb... what I assume is a limb. It raises said limb and...
I wake up, in the living room. My body feels like it's been cut all over, I'm in tears. I fall to the ground and just cry it out (I'm man enough to admit it). I scream, but no one was in the house that night. When I regain my senses, I turn on all the lights, pick up the guitar and play, play the night and day away. I didn't dare sleep for a few days after that one.

One thing I have noticed is the only way I can consistently know if I am in the dream sequence or not, and that is the light. Everything will work normal if I try it (unless it's going to scare the heck out of me), but the light never works. If it is on, it stays on. If it is off, it stays off. Even if it changes anything, it does it wrong(changes colour, or the 'shape'... again not sure how to describe that bit etc). It's really the least scary way I can tell where I am.

Source: MisterA 

D-249 Sometimes

Sometimes before I go to sleep I wish I wouldn't wake up the next morning.

Where is Comfort when you need it most?

D-279 When I was a young man

"When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it. I had time, but I did not know it. And I had love, but I did not feel it. Many decades would pass before I understood the meaning of all three. And now, the twilight of my life, this understanding has passed into contentment.

Love, liberty, and time: once so disposable, are the fuels that drive me forward. And love, most especially, mio caro. For you, our children, our brothers and sisters. And for the vast and wonderful world that gave us life, and keeps us guessing. Endless affection, mia Sofia.

Forever yours,
Ezio Auditore."

D-282 What frightens you? What do you fear?

I was having late-night facetime with a youth pastor that I know from 8 years ago and wanted to share what he told me today. It may or may not apply to you, but read on.

Everyone has fears, hurts and scars from past experiences that we may or may not want to recall from memory.  And those things may affect how we interact with those that are around us - some close, some not so close - and sometimes cause us to become closed, to shy away from becoming emotionally vulnerable towards others.  And there is nothing wrong with that.  There is nothing wrong with being human, being able to feel hurt, and setting up one's own self defense mechanism against possibly risking being hurt again.

Abe, the youth pastor, said the best thing you can do is give your friend a knife and turn your back to him. It's a little morbid and dramatic example, but what he wanted to say was that there is nothing to be gained by not willing to become vulnerable (again) to others.  There is nothing to be gained when you do not invest your own trust in others.  And maybe that friend can reciprocate and be willing to become vulnerable to you as well.  Maybe you can find a brother or a sister in the midst of everything, like a gem in the desert.

One can be lucky and stumble upon such gems/persons, but in almost all cases, you have to be the one knocking on other people's doors, because 99.9% of the time, they won't be knocking on yours (or anyone else's).

But remind yourself that in order to love others, one must love him/herself first.

Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

 

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

D+571 / D-304 Examining the Presence of Music in a Starbucks at Harvard Square

Prompt: In an attempt to be aware of the presence and function of music in our lives...

After paying for the tall, hot light roast at the counter, I took my mug of coffee and proceeded to carefully and gently snake my way through the caffeine-hungry crowd of the laptop-hugging, plugged-in academics and office workers in order to find myself a seat on the second floor of a Starbucks coffee store at Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  To be honest, I myself was not so much different from the others.  As soon as I sat myself at one of the bars, I instinctively reached for the laptop in my backpack, set it up on the table, and attempted to start a joyless race for productivity - just like most all the others on the floor of Starbucks.  It was (and still is) funny how a coffee shop at Harvard Square has become something like a public library full of people uninterested in social interaction and pretty much any outside source of distraction.  Their earphones and headphones were a clear sign that said to others: “Please don’t disturb me.”  But, what was there to disturb them?  It was ironic in the sense that the floor was mostly quiet except for the rumbling of the coffee grinder and the small pockets of conversations here and there.

Not too long after having settled into my slightly uncomfortable place at the bar, I noticed a trio of musicians setting up for a small gig ways behind me and at a spacious corner of the floor.  I turned my head to observe them more fully: a red-haired lady and a brown-skinned man, both seemingly in their early twenties, each had a ukulele in their hands, while an Asian boy brandished a pair of steel brushes whilst sitting behind a basic drum set.  After a few more minutes of finalizing their equipment, the trio was ready.  The girl cleared her throat before turning on the microphone.

 “H-Hello everyone,” she said.  Nobody greeted her back except for a cheery young black girl sitting in front of them.  What an odd sight!  I surveyed the rest of the floor, and apart from a few turned heads, the rest probably didn’t even bat an eye after stealing a quick glance of the amateur musicians that drove all the way over from Florida.  After a brief announcement of their band name and their genre, they proceeded to perform for the crowd some pleasant songs.  (Please forgive me - I cannot recall their band name.)  Along with a few others in the room, I gave them my full attention.  However, as each song came to an end, the rather uninterested crowd was able to afford only a few pairs of hands for applause.  Such a painful sight forced me to join in on the clapping.

 After about four songs in total, the girl gave a brief introduction of each of the band members, reminded us of the band name, and bid us farewell before starting to pack up their belongings.  I don’t think most people cared or even listened.  Their attention was stilled affixed to their individual laptop screens and e-book readers.

 Was their music defective?  I clearly do not think so.  Yet, it is unclear how the soft crooning of her voice and the gentle strumming of the ukuleles became a source of distraction, a disturbance, if not annoyance, to most of the people in the coffee shop.  I must then assume that the band’s music did not provide pleasure for many people’s ears in that room; the music was largely ignored.  

Then, what about the music flowing from their earphones and headphones?  The music being played from iTunes, Pandora, or Spotify - what purpose did it serve?  Were they only selectively using music as a means of concentration, motivation, and/or neutralizing emotions?  Has music become so commercialized, so accessible, and so abundant in supply that it is now a mere knob, a customizable setting for our ears?  Would it be elitist to judge here?  I do feel a little uncomfortable condemning others for doing something suggestively sacrilegious - yet harmless - that I am guilty of doing as well.  Hence, I prefer to keep these questions open.

Instead, I wonder what it would take in order to learn to appreciate the value of our privileges, including music.  I recall the absence of many sources of pleasure and comfort during my service in the Marine Corps in Korea, and music was definitely one of the things I missed dearly.  However, I learned to fully appreciate those things only after they have been taken away from me for a long period of time.  Yet again, in a free world, it would be a draconian idea to divest music away from the public to help them realize its value - something that might exist only in the realm of science fiction.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A lot of the things we do are part of our everyday life and sometimes we even don’t notice them. They are not valuable anymore since they are something simple, something usual. They are not unique anymore. They are something we take for granted, something we are used to with. Do we appreciate the existence of air? No, we don’t. Do we appreciate the ability to walk? No, we don’t, because we do not know what it would be if this ability of ours is taken away. Do we appreciate the existence of the water? We don’t, but the Arabian do, just because they know what is to live with the lack of water. We start to appreciate the value of something after we lose it, meanwhile it is something we can have anytime we want, it is not something special, it is something ordinary.

We learn to appreciate the value of something after we lose it, because we do not know what it would be if we didn’t have this thing at the first place, we don’t know what it would be if we had to work for it or to fight for it. We had it from the very begining so what’s the big deal if we lose it, well obviously not everything has a price and after it is lost, it can’t be returned back. That’s why we must learn to appreciate what we have, because if we didn’t have it in first place, our live could be different.

 - denimcho @ WP

D+456 Incentives Run Amok

If you are running a bank and have some people working for you and making money, watch them. If they are making good money, watch them closely; if they are making great money, watch them closer still; and if they are making fantastic profits, fire them!

- Anonymous bank CEO adage

D+455 I'm Not Worried

"I think my weekend is going to be really boring."
"Oh, don't worry - my weekend's going to be pretty boring, too."
"Uhm, whether your weekend is boring or not isn't something i'm going to worry about."

Wow, thanks.
You actually manage to make me cut you off emotionally bit by bit.

D+401 Mind catching up with reality

[–]Mateo4183 778 points 8 hours ago*I spent just shy of two years in prison for drugs. Lots of drugs. When I got out, my wife picked me up, and I spent twenty minutes trying to figure out how to use her iPod nano with the touch screen. Got motion sick for the first time ever. Went to our new house my wife bought right before I got out because the apartment complex she was living in wouldn't allow me to reside there due to the felonies. Took a long shower and put on real clothes. Went to a barbecue and saw almost everyone who means anything to me. Sat stonefaced through the whole thing because I was overwhelmed and had learned not to show anything. Gorged myself on the best homemade ribs and sides I've ever had. Went home and hung out. Used the remote control to watch whatever I wanted. Had sex with my wife. (A while later) Cried for an hour or so (it was just an emotional release at the end of the day when my mind finally caught up with reality). Slept like a baby in our sweet, sweet bed.

[–]Dmalf 2510 points 11 hours ago*x2I haven't gone to jail, but I have gone to a mental hospital. They kept everything locked up, served horrible meals, and we were kept in cells. So, kind of like a jail/prison.
The first thing that I did when I got out from my stay, was sit down in my room, and bawl my eyes out. I had been away from my family, and I was sure that they hated me for trying to kill myself. My little brother wouldn't talk to me, and my parents punished me. My older brother and my friends are what saved me, really. I cried and cried. My older brother came and checked up on me, and found me like that. He carried my 13 year old self down to his car, and drive me to our favorite restaurant, and Italian place named Al Dente. We sat down, and just looked at each other. That's when he just broke down. He said that he still loved me, and that no matter what our family thinks, he will always be there for me. I went home from there a changed man. Well, boy, but that's beside the point.

[–]ununpentium89 214 points 10 hours ago
I didn't go to prison. I was sectioned for 6 months in a medium secure psychiatric hospital.
It meant that I was kept against my will in the hospital for treatment. The walls were very high and topped with razor wire. There was an air lock style entry system to the hospital. Patients were searched upon entrance to the hospital, and their belongings searched for contraband/banned items. Patients were not allowed out of the hospital except when the psychiatrist had specified according to their leave status- often they had to be accompanied by nurses.
Anyway. When I was released I spent the next few days basking in the luxury of being able to eat when I wanted, go to bed when I wanted, go to the toilet without asking and going outside when I wanted.
Then I developed crippling anxiety and agoraphobia due to the lack of structure and the shock of being discharged so suddenly with no step down.

 [–]Scratcher09 92 points 4 hours ago*In response to /u/smzayne 's comment (I'm his Dad), I thought I'd create an acct to share my experience. After 15 years I got out on a Friday. Stepping outside was surreal. I could not believe I was out. All these ideas I had about how it was going to be went out the window. As I was walking around I felt like I did not belong out there. I had to ask someone how to make a phone call at a pay phone to call my family to pick me up. And getting in the car was kind of scary--it felt like we were going way too fast. Stopped at Cracker Barrel to eat and being in a crowd really gave me a lot of anxiety. I had no appetite for a few weeks but soon realized I was enjoying tasting good foods again. I didn't want to be out so went to my parents' home and kinda soaked in all the changes. I had never seen the internet, never texted (couldn't understand why two people with phones in their hands wouldn't just talk to each other instead!), didn't know how to pay at gas pump or self check out, never seen DVD's, GPS, MP3's, iAnything, etc. But more than the changes in technology, it was all the experiences I had missed out on that haunted me. Thought I was gonna be dying to get laid but truth is I got into a relationship right away and didn't have sex for several months! Another thing that was odd is that I didn't sleep for ten days! I was not at all tired. People were worried but I felt great. After ten days I started taking naps here and there (could only sleep on floor even though I had a bed). Took me a couple months to sleep normally. I remember being very weirded out in public crowded places--especially where people might touch me (like in line at a grocery store). After fifteen years, your mind can't just snap out of it and get back to life out here. It's like a fish out of water kind of feeling. I spent almost all my adult life in prison and that doesn't go away overnight.

D+172 A Cadence

Oh yeah
Here we go
A little run
Just for fun
Mile one
Just for fun
Mile two
just for you
Mile three
Just for me
Mile four
Give me more
Mile five
I'm alive
Mile six
Just for kicks
Mile seven
I'm in heaven
Mile eight
It feels great
Mile nine
Right on time
Mile ten
Let's do it again

Semper Fidelis

D+135 There's a Better Place

Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three

Come with me
And you'll be in a world of pure imagination
Take a look
And you'll see into your imagination

We'll begin
With a spin
Traveling in the world of my creation
What we'll see
Will be beyond explanation

D+134 Everything Has Beauty

Don't cry.
Everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.
Please remember that.

D+126 Help

Help.

I'm almost about to drown, but I don't think my limbs can keep me afloat much longer.
I've had a lot of seawater to swallow already, and fear will come over me soon.
My chest aches from the stabbing cold, and my consciousness will slip anytime.

Help.
Help.

D+116 4am

Sleepless gliding
Over the city lights
Watch us flying
Over the streets tonight

And I say
There's a way, oh there's a way I know
There's a way, oh there's a way I know
There's a way, oh there's a way
I know that someday we will surely find it
There's a way, oh there's a way I know
There's a way, oh there's a way I know
Someday, there's a way
Someday, there's a way I know.

Sunday morning
Watching the city sleep
Dreams are shining
Finally they're within reach 

D+86 Tell Me

Andre Crom

Some words spoken in the area of life
Show me you can get the fire right
The night when we will burn oh so bright
So tell me, tell me

And you will see
Sometime that it's coming over me
The vibrance won't live without you and me
It's gonna raise your arms and set you free, set you free
So tell me, tell me