Splat

“Do something each day that scares you.”

Today will be a day of things that scare me.

I’m sitting in A&W, not my comfortable Starbucks, trying to write and it is loud. There are 30 seniors in here enjoying their morning while I am trying to concentrate. I hate it here. It is triggering my anxiety.  I should have just stayed home. The only thing I can write about is how unable I am to write about the things I need to write about. Sitting here scares me.

After this, I have an appointment with my doctor to have him look at a strange thing growing on my leg. It’s not a cyst, it’s not a zit. It’s a lump, an irregular lump that is weeping. It’s everything they tell you to worry about when they warn us about skin care and warning signs of cancer. I’m scared. Of all the ways to go, cancer is not the one I want to face. I will NEVER allow myself to get to that point. I will take care of things on my own before I would ever let that happen.

After that, I have to talk to my friend about being my power of attorney and making end of life decisions. Having just watched what happened with my uncle and his family, I want everything put down on paper, in nice legal ink. My family may not like my decisions but I don’t really care. How my life ends is the ultimate expression of bodily autonomy and I’ll be damned before I let someone else make that decision for me. I trust my friend. Of everyone I have talked to about what I really think about my life and where I am mentally, it’s he whom I trust the most to carry out my wishes. I am not, Lieutenant Dan from Forest Gump, begging to fulfill his death destiny. Fuck that. I will take control of my own destiny. I have been a slave to what the world has put me through for 45 years and I refuse to allow my life’s end to be something I have no control over it.

Having said all that, knowing my luck I will die without even seeing it coming.

“Watch that bus.”
“What bus?”

Splat.

Leave it to my life to remove the one time I try to take back control.

I am not a megaphone

Borderline and leaving religion have both taught me certain things. One place where these lessons overlap is the idea of who gets to define another person beliefs or values.

I watched for years as one church would call the members of another church out as "not true Christians." This still happens. A great example is when I hear people say that Catholics are not real Christians when it's obvious that they are. They may not agree with another person's beliefs but since I can't tell from the outside who is a true Christian and who isn't,  I take them at their word that they both believes they are and are trying to be with total sincerity.

I see the same arguments going on within the feminist community, where some women say that, for example, dressing in a sexy manner defies what feminism is about while another will claim that it's exactly what it's about. Some claim that a woman choosing to wear a burqa is anti feminist while women having the freedom to make that choice for themselves is exactly what feminism is about, freedom to choose what to do with their own bodies.

I don’t claim to know if both or even neither is right. I agree with many "feministic" ideals and have, at times, disagreed with what some feminists have claimed I had to agree with. This never sat right with me. I try, I really try to support women's empowerment but it seems that no matter what decision I make, there are issues which seem to make me a feminist to one woman while not a feminist to another.

Today, I was called a non ally to the LGBTQ+ community because I didn’t understand a trans woman's point of view. This has happened before, when I have asked for a clarification of something which was said to me. I have been told, multiple times, that to be a true ally I must subdue my own voice and simply amplify the voices of trans people.

But I am not a megaphone. I am a thinking, breathing human as well and I would never ask another person to subdue their opinion by simply stating that mine is correct because its MY opinion. I cannot bring myself to silence myself and throw away my critical mind. I question everyone and everything I don’t understand. And anyone who has read anything I write and post here knows that point goes for things I believe first and foremost.

I don't deny that those people in the LGBTQ+ community have led lives I don’t understand.  In fact, I say that I don't see how I possibly could. All I can try to do is empathize with their marginalization, sympathize with their predicament and try to get others to open their ears. One of the few things I have hope for is that there will come a day when none of this is even an issue anymore, simply because we all accept each other for we are. Although I will never live to see it.

I can only do the best I can. I want to listen to the stories.  I want to give people a leg up when I can and the fact that I'm a cis man, which limits my ability to do so from an understanding place, is not my problem.

The message I got told me that by doing a daily Pride post in the way I am comfortable is inappropriate, demeaning and making it all about me.
Well, you know what? To a certain extent it is but that's because this is my voice and my IG account and my blog and my brain doing the beat inducing can.

I will happily link to blogs i find interesting and informative,  regram posts I see which speak to me or I think may speak to others. But this is my voice and I'll be damned if I let anyone tell me I don’t have the right to use it just because I'm a straight white man. That's now how you get allies. That's not how you identify enemies. That's how you create apathy because the person being attacked will eventually tune out a message which could very well have taught us all a valuable lesson.

I'm sorry for this rant but I had to let it out somewhere.

Be well everyone.

Lies, addiction and choosing to live

One of the near-constant plot threads throughout the series The West Wing is alcohol addiction. There are many episodes where the Chief of Staff's alcoholism is the keystone of everything going on. In one episode in particular, “Bartlet for America”, Chief of Staff Leo McGarry takes a drink for the first time in years but doesn't stop with just one, because alcoholics don't have a drink. They have drinks. And they don't do it in front of other people, they do it alone because they are ashamed and afraid that no one will understand and that they will be seen as weak.

The DVD commentary for this episode was done by series creator and writer Aaron Sorkin and the actor who played the Chief of Staff, John Spencer. Both of these men have dealt with addiction in their lives so it is from experience that they can discuss the shame of the lies that come with trying to hide such a sadly integral part of their lives. Spencer also discusses the incredible amount of freedom that comes with finally telling the truth.

While I did use alcohol as a self medication and I definitely abused it at times in my life I never had problems choosing not to drink the way that an alcoholic does. If I decided I'd had enough, I would just stop even if that meant leaving alcohol in the glass in front of me. And yet I can totally understand what these men are talking about as they discuss the lies which they told to hide their addiction and the freedom that one experiences when they finally are able to tell the truth, without the fear of judgement from the people around them. I spent nearly my entire life lying, trying to protect myself from the illness that was desperately trying to destroy my life not knowing that it was the lies that was allowing that destruction to occur.

I've known for years how important this freedom is to me and how central it is for me in trying to function on a regular basis. Life would be a lot easier for me to deal with if I went back to the lies. I could probably even lie myself into believing I could hold down a job but the appearance of healthiness would be short-lived. It doesn't matter how well you lie to yourself and others, the truth will eventually bite you hard enough to stop you where you stand, often when you least expect it and when it is the most damaging to your life and relationships.

I catch myself lying from time to time, a reaction to a specific moment, a form of puffery subconsciously intended to make myself seem more important or more liked to the person I'm speaking to. I work hard to catch myself when I do this and if possible admit to the person I just lied to that I did it. Only recently did I understand where a part of the impulse comes from.

There are tens of thousands of characters in fiction whom we love and cherish who are known for turning their lives into a series of blown up adventures, exaggerations on what really occurred. The other characters think of them as only telling tall tales and because we all they know they lie, they don't believe them and can see them as charming and endearing. Anyone watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother knows this. The character of Barney Stinson is well known for his ability to manipulate people by exaggerating the truth, especially the opposite sex, into getting what he wants. However, from a third-party point of view, watching it in a  television show may be funny, charming and almost lovable but to the characters inside his life, the reality is he would probably be insufferable, never trusted, and alone if it weren't for the ladies he was able to manipulate into going home with him.

I know that there are people in my life now often uncomfortable with the fact that I no longer lie, as strange as that sounds. Because I tell the truth they are exposed to the thoughts which I deal with on a daily basis, hearing about my illnesses in a blunt unshameful manner, and telling them how I really feel about myself. It hurts me to know that telling such blunt truths around them makes them feel this way. Yet I do it because it's not only the only way for my relationship with them to survive, it's the only way for me to survive. Like an alcoholic, if I was to feed that addiction again I have no idea where I would end up but I do know that I would hurt every single person who cares about me in the process. Strangely, Aaron Sorkin hinted at what that aftermath might look like.

Early on in the series, a secretary who had grown up with an alcoholic father asks the character of Leo what would happen if he took a drink. Leo responded, “I don't know. But probably a nightmare the likes of which both our fathers experienced. And me too.”

My greatest fear isn't how much I may hurt people if I take my life and leave this planet. My greatest fear is how much I could potentially hurt them by finding the courage to stay.

A simple errand

If anyone that I know wins millions in the lottery,  I promise to pay for all my drinks and food when we go out. I will never guilt you for being lucky enough to have the money.  In fact, I can honestly say I'll be happy for you and hope you invest it wisely and remember to refrain from spoiling your children too much.

That said, if you find the charity to help me pay for psychological therapy, I wouldn't be so proud as to turn that down.

A couple days ago, I had to go to the dr for script refills. This is an anxiety producing scenario at the best of times and waiting 45 minutes past my appointment time made things worse, but I got through it.

After that I went to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions where the pharmacist said she needed to go over my medications. She pulled out a list and began to go through them one by one, knowing nothing of my history, and inform me that I don't have my pain under control,  or me depression under control,  my anxiety under control, my cramping under control. 

I got out of there by the skin of my teeth, a panic attack barely avoided. Last stop was a quick pop into the dollar store, to supplement the pantry with food I can actually afford. Upon putting in my PIN the transaction was rejected. I had forgotten to verify my balance. I quickly looked around and saw just one register open and 5 people in line behind me.

Panic mode engaged.

I fumbled with my cell phone to open the bank's app so I could transfer money. The app wouldn't open.

My breathing got more shallow.

I restarted the app, it still wouldn't work.

I broke out into a cold sweat.

I turned off the wifi on my phone, hoping the wireless data would work better and, thankfully, it did.

My hands were now shaking like a paint mixer.

I closed my eyes and took a feel breath before trying to transfer the money. It did.

I looked up and saw the line of people behind me, annoyed at having to wait, had grown to 8.

I sloppily took gold of the PIN pad and tried again. Thankfully, it went through  and I could hurry from the store, just as a second register was opening.

Luckily, I had my Ativan with me and was able to get into the cool outside air, alone with my thoughts and a chance to slow my breathing.

That was two days ago. This morning I was still shaking so bad I dropped my morning cup of coffee, spilling sweetener and milk all over the kitchen. It's nearly nine o'clock at night and I'm still elevated.

I dont need a pharmacist to tell me I dont have my health, physical or mental, under control. What I need is a way to fix it or at least control it.

Because right now I am as out of control as a kite with a broken string, slave to both the gentle breezes and the irresistible gusts of life and I need to find a way to regain a grasp before things get out of reach.

Mindfulness or Mindlessness

Mindfulness is the act of existing and experiencing the now, appreciating your current state of being. It is a willful brain state of non-thought. It is accepting things as is, rejecting the need for explanation or reason.

It is religion.

When I was doing dialectic behavioral therapy I ran into a conflict in its teachings.

Premise one: accept the there are always other options, opinions, and points of view that are just as valid as your current mind state and they should be considered.

Premise two: Beware of words and concepts which lead down a singular path. Signal words include "should", "must", "have to" and "always".

If you apply premise two to premise one you realize a glaring paradox. I brought this to the nurse who was leading group and she said I should just stop thinking about it so much, that I should fake it till I make it. That phrase has been used for years to justify believing things on faith and faith is not a reliable path to truth.

I pointed that out to her and her response scared me. "Would you rather be right or healthy?"

So, in order to be healthy I'd have to throw away the concept of truth,  or at least the pursuit of it? This made no sense to me. Again, it reminded me of religion and if I had been able to ignore what was objectively true or false, I'd still be religious.  Needless to say, I am not and have become a far more skeptical person than I used to be.

While I had learned useful coping skills from DBT therapy, I could no longer pursue it knowing that it was based on an internal conflict. It had become clear to me that DBT’s worthwhile skills were surrounded by a mythos which I could not accept. I walked away from group therapy that day and as much as I miss the camaraderie and sense of belonging that it provides I am unable to go back to it knowing it is based on something false.

Tonight I am sitting and listening to The Joe Rogan podcast with his guest actor and comedian Dave Foley. They are discussing and exploring evolution and societal ideas about the roots of religion. Foley thinks that it intelligence was a trait selected for over generations but combined with the need to attribute meaning to things in the world around us. If two people are sitting at a table the only reason that it is defined as a table is because the two people agree that it is a table. Society has agreed that the meaning of a large flat piece of wood with four legs at a certain height is a table.

He further goes on to state that it is often the mentally deficient or injured who do not have an internal need or ability to find meaning in things, to see the deeper meaning beyond the surface level of understanding . His example was that cats do not find meaning the same way humans do and therefore the table is nothing more than something for him to jump on and clean itself upon, something that a human of normal mental capacity would never consider because of the meaning that we have put on that object.

His next point was to state that the reason we have religion was because at some point after we began endowing meanings on things, we began to realize that we were going to die and that there had to be meaning in that as well. After all, there was meaning and everything else in society so why wouldn't there be meaning in death and if there's meaning in death that there must be meaning in life. Therefore, human beings have a certain level of intelligence have a natural need to put meaning into existence. Some turn to religion. Artists create art in hopes that they will live on through their art. They put a meaning into their art which to the outsider may seem ridiculous but to the artist is a necessary spiritual connection which gives their life and work meaning.

One of the skills taught in therapy is the idea of mindfulness, experiencing the present as much as possible, pushing away intrusive thoughts, reasoning and  consideration of the both the future and the past. It is a training of the brain to accept things as they are without challenging how we perceive them or what meaning they have to ourselves or society. It is the momentary suspension of critical thought and attempting to understand the world around us.

Religion he's also the suspension of critical thought and the attempt to understand the world around us. You are supposed to believe on faith the that what you are told, reading a book, or experience emotionally is true without ever questioning. Most religions even teach get the idea of questioning, to embrace doubt, is a sin in itself.

I'm having a hard time seeing a difference between the suspension of critical thought in mindfulness and the same suspension in religion. How is it anything other than merely programming the mind to accept what it is told and no longer search for truth? And if that’s all that it is, even if it has its benefits, is it worth embracing if it must necessarily lead me down a path that at the very least cannot be justified and it’s also potentially demonstrably false.

No Future

What next?

Other people with BPD often ask me what I think of DBT therapy and I hesitate to answer the question. While I did learn some skills on how to cope, i found the basic premise to be at conflict with itself. I was asked to believe it would work even though I had no reason to.

I was asked to take it on faith. I was asked to hope without reason.

Ever since I left religion I have had no ability to do that. I need evidence that something is true. I need facts. I need something upon which I can bootstrap the rest of my thoughts and ideas. Without it, I am a mind floating through the air like a helium filled balloon,  subject to the gusts of my emotions. Often gentle, but sometimes gale-force, they push my psyche to and fro, up and down. There is a narrow band of usefulness in which it must remain or bad things happen. If it goes too high, the pressure builds until it pops from the inside. If it slows and drags on the ground, it may come to a stand still, or slowly erode the plastic until a small hole forms, allowing the helium to slowly leak out leaving it lifeless on the concrete. 

But even if its within that narrow band of usefulness,  there are obstacles a plenty which could snag it or do it damage. Trees could stop it in its tracks and although it is full and healthy,  it will never move again. There may even be mischievous little boys with BB guns, trying actively to bring it down to their level.

Right now, I am low, on the ground. Another potential path to the open sky has been closed and a reason for hope seems further away than ever.

I don't want a whole lot in life. I don't want tonnes of money. I don't want fame or glory. I'm at the point where I don't want the things that most people have. A car, a family, a job, a hobby.

I'd just like to get up each day and see the morning as a good thing. It doesn’t even have to be for me. If I could see a positive outlook for humanity, I could find a way to help fight for it but I don't. 

Global climate change is going to alter the world in more ways than we can imagine. In America,  they are caging children, refusing to pass laws which keep guns out of violent people's hands, taking money away from special needs kids to build more bombs, taking health care away from millions to build a pointless wall.

Even here in Canada, it is getting bad. Right wing, religious extremists are trying to force their racism upon us all and succeeding. We are choosing energy and money over food and clean water. We are protecting gangsters and caging people for asking why.

Society is breaking down and there's nothing I can do about it. A friend once pointed out that i can't solve all the world's problems, and I think I'm about ready to stop trying.

Live in the now. Enjoy the present.  Seize the day. Make now always the most important time because now will never come again.

But I don’t think I can. With no reason to believe that tomorrow will be better, as a conscious world or a selfish me, I see no reason for hope. All I have left is more pills, more numbness, more darkness, more aloneness. At what point is it right to just pull the plug? How deep and long does the coma of my life have to be before pity should be acted upon?

Maybe it's best that I don’t know the answer to that question. Maybe the answer would propel me to act. I don’t know but the limbo I'm in today is grating my skin, wearing away layer after layer.

The gas is beginning to escape.