Worthless Meat-Sac

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I suppose most of my life I've been a little depressed. Not enough to warrant any one's attention. Just enough to dwindle away any remaining hope, pride or confidence from a once playful child. A once hopeful squirt.

Along the way and at no time, in particular, the lust for life and all it could offer subsided. Reality set in hard and with little push back from myself and for Reality, it was easy to interject a little taste of spiteful consequence into an already uncertain world. 

Ahead, I only saw chaos and unpredictability. All I saw was my own failure, greed and no one to make proud, least of all myself. Who am I to demand such things of myself? Am I not just another human, doomed to a life on this earthly hell? With torments within and torments abroad.

The world, seeking to destroy you throws death and confusion at you. So you accept your fate. I told myself I was just another in a long line of worthless humans. No more important than the distant stars,  a speck of dust on the planet. With no God and no one to impress and no chance for greatness, why even try?

In the background of my mind negativity was always there, demanding more and expecting less. Never enough and never to anywhere. I thrived amidst the opportunities afforded. Blessed and cursed by the world's prescribed options. Adrift and ashamed. 

I am still ashamed of my lack of fortitude and passion. I am still ashamed when I find myself following someone undeserving of my loyalty. But it is not the case that I am just a cog and it is not the case that I have no choices. I have consequences to conjure and futures to inspire.

It is the case that I can accept my frailties and work toward improving the best aspects of myself. To take on tasks that improve my attitude, my mood and that create confidence. The ones that help me appreciate life and find joy. Activities and indulgences that I can take pride in even if I'm not always willing to divulge them to others.

There are positive and negative behavioral feedback loops that one engages in whether one is paying attention or not. If one is paying attention and wants the depression to lessen then it makes sense that one should engage in activities that promote positive psychological feedback.

A great book that I read that facilitated my acceptance of my current state and empowered my dedication to make my life better is called The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem by Nathaniel Brandon. Another book I read that helped me rethink my relationships with others is called Real-Time Relationships: The Logic of Love by Stephan Molyneux. After reading these books I came away with actionable steps to take control over my life in a way that I didn't know was possible beforehand. I started to look at my life as something to be taken seriously as a limited resource that was worth investing in. For more on this topic read my blog about losing 45 lbs and why as well as other blogs about personal development.

Even after about five years of a concerted effort to no longer treat myself as a worthless meat-sac I still get depressed and still, my depression takes the form of a subtle, yet persistent pessimism, nihilism, and doubt. A voice inside my head that looks at my accomplishments, skills, and humanity and judges it all as a pointless endeavor unworthy of continuance. I stop writing, stop learning, stop appreciating myself and I start to doubt that I am worthy of any effort at all. Fortunately, as time goes by and I work at improving my self-esteem these bouts of depression are fewer and far between and I hope that in time positivity and enthusiasm will take on a more dominant role in my psychology.



Links:
https://www.amazon.com/Six-Pillars-Self-Esteem-Definitive-Leading/dp/0553374397

https://www.amazon.com/Real-Time-Relationships-Logic-Stefan-Molyneux-ebook/dp/B004Z8S1TA

https://joesnotesblog.com/blog/2018/10/3/re-post-a-new-lifestyle-how-i-lost-45-lbs-and-kept-it-off

The Cult Dream on 7/19/2018

Walking home at night through a back route that was in a small field when I am attacked by a young man with knives as fingers and a mask. Looked like a monster out of a Saw movie.

Later my brother along with my sister and mom are in the field to help me but my brother insists that we follow after the maniac.

I knew without sufficient weaponry we would be tortured, killed and may be eaten.

We follow the trail into the woods when we come across a cult worshipping in the woods.

I tackle the first one I see and a fight breaks out but there are too many of them.

I'm not sure how I got out of it.

Analysis:
Prior to this evening's dream, I had had little sleep and had a fairly stressful day. The next day was expected to be even more stressful.  Anticipating all the potential issues happening the next day and anticipating the day, in general, this dream was about fear. Also, I didn't smoke any weed that night. This was one of the most vivid dreams I have had in a long time. It was full of dread and anxiety.

I ended up getting enough sleep though, and the next day turned out to be a good day. Still, it was very stressful as I was doing professional work with zero experience and little training. I think that the dream was a template for dealing with the impending stress. It was a kind of rehearsal. I followed my brother into a stressful situation but the only way to deal with it was to head toward it and take it on. 

In the Shadow of a Beast: A trip to the beach

A Trip to the Beach

I grew up in the shadow of a beast. I felt powerless and thus, drew in on myself, hiding in places where the beast could not find me. I stayed out of the living room. I spent time at friend's houses. Fortunately for me, hiding was easy, seeing as the beast I hid from rarely looked for me. But when he did I could not flee.

I remember one such occasion where I was trapped by the beast. It was visitation day and the beast decided that it would be a good idea to take me to the beach, a normally calming and tranquil place, but on that day it was just a backdrop to tyranny. The drive there was only 20 minutes or so but it felt like a blurry lifetime. I was about thirteen that day and I had been honing my selective attention skills for some time by then. This skill came in handy anytime my beast of a father decided it was time to tell me "how it is". He would rant about how evil the world is, how my mother was a liar who was stealing his children and how all of our hatred of him was the result of brainwashing.

I sat, trapped in the car, on the way to a remote part of the Oregon coastline, with a knot in my stomach and words passing through my head like a dark fog. The full content was lost but the message was clear. His hate and malice for my mother, himself and life drove through my selective attention filter and I knew that either he was evil or I was. How else could such poison exist to warrant such verbal anger?

We made it to the beach and there was at least something more to distract me from the incessant diatribe of a man with only frustration and hate in his heart. It wasn't much but I remember walking down the trail to the beach and feeling a slight sense of relief in seeing the ocean but mostly it is a blurred memory. I retreated inside myself and bottled up my anger and resentment for the beast and knew that there was little I could do. He had a "right" to my presence and attention so I did what I could to ignore the words and emotions.

Later in my life, when in conversation I would find that my attention had wondered and that I was not listening I tried to understand this instinct to ignore someone even when looking right at them. I realized that this selective attention mechanism was a defensive operation developed over a decade of being trapped by my beast of a father and forced to listen to his vitriolic rhetoric. If I didn't want this mechanism to ruin future relationships I had to understand what caused it and to recognize that it was no longer needed. I had to consciously recognize when my mind would wander while in mid-conversation and then bring my attention back to the person talking in order to engage in the conversation. I realized that I really enjoy a good conversation where I am an active participant and that comes from listening.

I still get a little nervous when speaking my mind and engaging in a meaningful conversation. Just asserting an opinion can be exhilarating for me know which is a sign of the lack of power I had growing up. It is important that people are not taken for granted or treated as dumping troughs for other's negative emotions. It is important to be present and allows your needs to be expressed in a conversation. If you are not part of the conversation then you become a ghost and not sticking up for yourself can lead to resenting yourself and those around you. Sometimes it is important to say, "Hey, I'm not in the mood for your depressing, angry words right now."

Another outcome of being in the shadow of a beast is that in withholding my expression, for good reason when I was younger, is the creation of imaginary conflicts in my head. Now, if I predict a potential conflict I will reliably have a continuous debate in my head with those that I might need to convince of my argument. I will try to predict all possible sides and argue them relentlessly in my head assuming that I need to prepare for a verbal battle. The sad part is that it creates stress and detracts from life because my predictions are almost always wrong. Almost all of my adult interactions have been pleasant and reasonable but because of my early life, I imagine otherwise. I take a defensive position and ready myself for a battle that I can now choose to not have.

I climb down the ladder (Dream Diary)

02/05/2017 after 12:00 am

I was hanging on for dear life on the top of a narrow cliff outcropping, like a massive bridge to nowhere, high above a rocky shore along with a large crowd of people. All squirming around and trying not to fall. Gary Vaynerchuck was there and was having no problem with the situation at all. There were two others there that I knew; I think they were friends from high school. All of a sudden my two friends lost their respective grips and fell around 50 ft. to the hard ground, the waves lapping across their bodies not quite obscuring them from the view from above. I remember feeling extreme anxiety and fear about the situation and that I would most certainly fall soon.

Not long later I was more composed and began to walk atop the cliff trying to find a way down when I see Gary Vaynerchuck explaining that he was going to simply climb down the face of the cliff free style, because he can do that kind of shit I guess. Then I find a hidden rope ladder, which must be the way all these frantic people got up here in the first place. Duh. I climb down the ladder.


(In the past when I had a dream that embodied anxiety, IE: tsunamis engulfing me, being chased; that kind of thing, I would wake up just as the anxiety reached it's height. This would often manifest as death or falling in the dream but lately my dreams do not stop at the anxiety. I seem to be able to push past the fear trigger and move to a more calm and rational outlook during a dream. This change in dream outcomes may be a result of my general maturation and may represent a change in my outlook on life.)

Sacrifice Self for Service

I spent the last six years working for a large electronics retailer and most of that time was as a Store Manager. In the last year I worked there they changed the title to Store Leader to try to infuse some ownership or enthusiasm into the role. The company was constantly changing terms, role definitions and performance evaluation standards in an effort to create impactful "cultural" changes but it mostly led to inconsistency and confusion. Frequently redefining evaluative tools, job descriptions and philosophies indicates a lack of central vision and understanding of psychology. Ambiguity and inconsistency muddy the waters of an organization's central goals and frustrates managers.

While I can go on about this company as a whole it was really the day to day operations and interactions with customers and the corporate structure that weighed on me year after year slowly but surely embittering me toward retail in general.

One of the main reasons I left was a growing feeling of stagnation and sometimes regression. A few years into my time there they created a leadership scoring system from 0-5, where 0 was about the be fired and 5 was about to be promoted to district manager, but the language for determining these levels was too broad and could be interpreted in different ways and it ended up being confusing and dis-empowering. By the end of the first year of implementation I had scrambled my way to level 3 which seemed appropriate and at least meant I was progressing and getting some kind of acknowledgement for my success and commitment.

I made it through the holiday season that year, made a ton of money for the company and worked extra hours with a new team. I had a few anxiety attacks as well as developing a general depression due to the stress and by the end of the year, like past years, I resolved to find something new as soon as possible. When the new year came around I found that I was starting over on the leadership system. I was back to level one and trying to reestablish the basics. Fine. But even after many months and conversations with my district manager I was not progressing. Was I really a lesser manager than the year before? Around this time I started seeing a therapist and when every conversation was about work I realized it couldn't last much longer.

My frustration with the system was leading to poor customer service on my part and after a few conversations with my district manager about it I felt like I was starting over every day. I had lost any enthusiasm for helping people and forgot what I was doing there. Then, one day, I remembered that we sold video games and my store was crushing sales goals. I sold entertainment to people and it should be fun so why did I feel so bad? I realized that the direction and perspective that my superior was offering me was not only demeaning but was simply wrong. I realized that when left to my own style of management my customers, my staff and my self were happier and more effective. I lost respect for the corporate system all together and accepted that it was not going to change and therefore I had to change.

Another reason I was getting fed up with my work was dealing with low-lifes and thieves. My store was essentially a pawn shop and operated under local second hand laws. Many of the customers that would try to sell their property were normal, intelligent people who didn't mind waiting to examine things and would accept the offer prescribed by the computer. Then there were the douchebags. People with brand new controllers that had never been touched and who didn't care that they were losing 60% value because everything is profit when it is stolen. Or people who just take their dirty, stinky stuff out from under their TV and bring it in all wrapped up in wires and wonder why it isn't worth much because it is covered in soda and old stickers.

Shop lifters and scammers were a constant issue and three days before my official last day I had my first snatch and grab. This 20 something white kid comes in and asks to buy two systems and some games. I was stupid enough the put the systems on the counter which is completely my fault. Then, when I ask him for an ID, he grabs the two systems and tries to run out. He fell backwards, dropping them on the floor and created a huge mess. I ran out from the counter and by then he was grabbing one of them and ran outside to a waiting SUV in the parking lot. He only got the one item but it was still very shocking. I should have never had the expensive items within arms reach but in six years I never thought it would happen to me. During my last two shifts I couldn't help but imagine every young man as a threat.

Dealing with the police was always pleasant enough but having to accept obviously stolen property because of discrimination policies was frustrating. I understand why they exist but sometimes it would have been nice to tell someone to fuck off and never come back. My boss would say, "What would you do if you owned your store?" and I can say I would have done things a bit differently. Such as getting rid of certain customers and using payroll more flexibly but I always tried to do what they wanted.

 Before I decided to quit I looked into the future and only saw myself becoming more and more bitter and depressed. The money was good but I was still living month to month, barely saving anything and it certainly wasn't worth the stress and lack of fulfillment. The longer I live and the more I listen to wizened elders I think that fulfillment in one's life and a feeling of accomplishment will lead to more self-esteem and happiness. Finding something that is self directed, creates value, allows for freedom of expression and is personally worth while is not easy but I don't think everyone needs a dream or calling to be successful. They just need a chance.

I think that sometimes taking a risk and venturing into the unknown is the only way to take the power back from those that would use you for your hard work and loyalty without truly caring about who you are. Feeling like an easily replaceable cog in a bloated corporate machine is a great way to sacrifice self for service but I wanted more. Maybe I'm delusional or narcissistic but there has to be more to life than selling video games for shareholders.

So, I quit. If I had stayed I would have had the biggest bonus to date, $1000 or more in free gaming swag and been given two awards for beating sales goals. But would it have been worth another holiday season? Another Black Friday and after Christmas sales? Would it have been worth the frustration and stress of trying to do everything I was told like a good manager? I don't think so. Nothing is worth feeling terrible when I have the luxury of choice and the knowledge that time is all I have. It wasn't a bad job and the company wasn't a bad company but it wasn't for me.

My brother offered me his garage and I moved in with him and his family a few weeks ago.  We are starting a business in media production and I miss my friends already. I moved far from the home I made in Eugene but I'm excited to learn something new, work hard, and try doing something creative and valuable. I am starting over and I don't know exactly what my future holds but I'm doing something for myself for a change and that is proving to be supremely liberating. I don't miss working there for a second.

Thanks for reading!

Extreme Anxiety at 5,000 Ft.

ON a recent backpacking trip to the Deschutes National Forest I learned something very important about myself; I learned that fear is a driving force in my life. I am a fearful person. I allow fear to permeate my thoughts and stunt my actions. I imagine all the potentially negative outcomes to any action and err on the side of inaction. I ignore or devalue any potentially positive outcomes even when they are much more likely. At times these fantasies are so overwhelming and horrifying that I am frozen with debilitating anxiety. This extreme case happened a few days ago. 

My brother I had been planning a backpacking trip for months. I spent so much time at REI preparing for this adventure and when it came time to head up to the mountains I thought I was ready for anything. But all the gear in the world wouldn't help me with the unrelenting fear that occurred as soon as the night fell and the internal fear machine kicked in that first night. Lying in the tent in the dark, with thousands of frogs raucously belching for 6 hours, my mind began twisting the cacophony  into impending doom. Sometimes it was screams in the distance but mostly I anticipated bears or cougars skulking around the tent looking to attack and eat me as soon as I fell asleep. Even as I attempted to sooth my self with a rational outlook the intensity of my fear was unstoppable. 

The next day as the light grew and I regained my sanity the fear was replaced by a sense of shame at my lack of courage and psychological control. In the back of my mind I knew that another night was coming and I didn't want to let the fear win. I didn't want to admit to myself or my brother the severity of the anxiety and I was not going to puss out and ask to go home. Fuck that. So we picked up camp and explored more of the trails and settled on a new site closer to the trail head and along a swift river. We were no more than an hour from the car and with hours of daylight we could have easily just went home and part of me wanted that more than anything. We came here to camp and be in nature and I knew that to give in to the fear would not only be esteem shattering but disappointing to my brother. 

As the second day grew to a close I found that as I stayed busy preparing firewood, making spears, or a poor attempt at a bushcraft fence that my mind was calm and unencumbered. After we watched the fire wither away into embers we retreated to the tent for the final night. We played cards for a while but soon I was alone with my thoughts and as I stared into darkness the theater of my mind stormed with a jumble of tension and horror. I wanted to cry but instead clenched my fists with frustration and after hours of torment I realized something. I realized that this was just a symptom of a fundamental personality trait. I began remembering other times in my life where extreme pessimism weighed me down. Times where I felt stuck in my body and out of control of my mind. 

This realization was crucial because I identified the root of my distress. I wasn't afraid of bears or cougars. Instead I have a deftly refined ability to think negatively that has permeated my life in one form or another for a very long time. It has stopped me from speaking my mind, from taking action and living in the moment. So, as I lay there, epiphany in hand, I began an impromptu mantra:

-I do not want fear to run my life.

-I want to be more courageous and brave. 

-I am powerful

I repeated these lines over and over in my head until I became relatively relaxed. Not completely relaxed, but I could see that I was telling a story of despair in my head and that the real story would not end so tragically. I accepted all the emotions I was having but identified fear as only diminishing my will and power. 

Fear was the only problem. I could fight a bear. Fuck bears! I had my brother to help me and I had a spear right out side the tent. I would murder a bear or at least go out fighting. Also, as we later googled, the odds of being attacked out in the woods are super fucking low. In fact one article explained that being in the woods may be the safest place a human can be. Throughout this trip I realized how brave and compassionate my brother is. We were very in sync and I learned how similar we are and I love his ability to enjoy life. 

Now I have to catch myself as I create stories of horror and remind myself that I will not let fear run my life. Fuck fear.