The Angst Of It All

I live my life in fear. It's unbelievable, when I sit down and think about it, how many things I've convinced myself I shouldn't attempt or can't do for fear of failure. I can remember things from as far back as Kindergarten where, if I had just spoken up, things would have been different. At that age I would think not speaking up in adult situations would be normal. I'm not talking about a kid that's stubborn. I'm talking about someone that fears what others may think or say.

 I'll give you an example of something I remember; On my first day of school the teacher was naming the months so she could write down our birthdays. She said my month and I wasn't listening. I heard her say the following month and I, knowing she had already said my month, stood up for the new month. I told her the date and let her write down February 24 as my special day. As the date got closer I couldn't gather the nerve to tell her of my mistake. So, for my Kindergarten year, the class celebrated my birthday on the wrong date. I know, it's no big deal, but the point is how easily  I could have corrected the mistake if I had just spoken up.

I've been diagnosed with what they call Social Anxiety. For me, as I've written about in the past, it's a little different from  what others that have this condition deal with. In most cases, when I'm out and about, I'm fine. It's getting there that almost kills me. As soon as someone asks me to go somewhere or I'm invited to some place, my mind immediately starts gathering thoughts of how to get out of going. It can be as simple as getting a call and told to come over a friends house. I'll give the quick response of, I'm on my way and hang up the phone. Immediately I'm getting thoughts in my head about finding a way to get out of going. The more people that are wherever I'm supposed to go, the more nervous, if that's even the right word, I am. 

When something is planned in advance, and I'm invited early, I'm just a wreck. The entire period of time between invite and event is pure torture. All I can think about is how people will look at me or what they'll say about me. Ludicrous? Of course. Real? More real than you can imagine.

 I've found that if I'm early enough to anything I can stake my claim, as it were, and be prepared when others arrive. I just need to get the lay of the land, if you will, and I'm fine for whatever comes up. I just need to have some semblance of control over the situation no matter how little it actually is, and I can pretty much run the room. I'll easily lead conversation, make some jokes and actually be rather gregarious. I love when I'm in that moment and I know how ridiculous it makes all the fears seem. It doesn't change the fact that the fears are there and have a hold on me.

It was getting better for a couple of years, thanks to most of you guys. Recently though, It's returned with a vengeance. I missed the holidays this year simply because I couldn't get myself over to families places. I feel so empty on those days, it's incredibly lonesome. I've taken the proper steps to try to deal with the issue. Seeing Drs. and doing new meds, I'm sure it'll all help. 

Even with the help though, the fear is always there. I think that's the part that bothers me most. I can't stop thinking about it while it's happening. I become almost intrigued by the fear. Its like I need to figure it out, to understand it. Ugh! Shrinks right, it's exhausting being me.

Years End.

As another year comes to an end I, like many others, take time to reflect on the days gone by. 2012 is a year I'd just as soon like to forget. Yes, there were many people and things that were very kind but the bad easily outweighed the good.

I've had the scratched cornea, detached retina, my car blew up, this whole blacking out thing and to top it all off, I was robbed while working in the city. Not a year to celebrate indeed. I gotta figure I got all the garbage behind me and I'm kinda due for a good year. If not, oh well, I'll still have my dog and my chair.

I'd be remiss if I didn't say there were many good times in 2012. There were times of great happiness. I happen to have some of the greatest friends anyone could ask for. The patience and kindness they've afforded me can never be paid back though I'll go to my grave trying.

I've made many new friends this year and I'm always thankful for that. I've also lost some along the way and, though some I'll easily get over, there are others that I'll feel the hurt for many a day. Either way, life goes on. I'll still go to bed each night and wake in the morning and try it all again. Sometimes it'll work for everyone and sometimes it won't.

I'll still be the emotional wreck I've always been and I'll always share way more than I should and, though it may make others a tad uncomfortable, it's who I am. I will say, as I have many times over the years, I'm working on it.

I wish each and every one of you a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. May your every wish come to fruition. As I have each year, I do ask one thing from all of you. Please be nice to each other. Imagine all the smiles you can create just by doing that.

Where Did He Go?

Back in 2007 I wrote a post about my uncle that had passed away. His wife, my aunt, passed away yesterday. She was my Father's sister and, when we were small, we would see them on a regular basis. They lived in Detroit and we were still in Trenton. After we moved to Oak Park, and my parents got divorced, the family occasions became fewer and fewer. We'd see each other at family events but, as time passed, these events simply disappeared. The last time I saw her, I believe, was when her husband died.

I truly believe, under normal circumstances, this would, as it should, bother me. Right now, with all the issues going around in my head, both real and imagined, it's hitting me harder than it should. I feel like that child inside all of us, that I've written about in the past, is just getting his ass kicked. I feel like I'm losing complete touch with him and I can't imagine living without him.

I've always said that the guy people see out in public is completely different from the guy who writes this blog. Lately, the public me has become more and more infected, if you will, by the blog me. I was always so good at separating the two but it's actually become an effort and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to take on that kind of fight by myself right now.

I've got to find a way to find that child again. I need to laugh, I mean genuinely laugh. I've always been able to find humor in literally anything. I need to get back to that place and it can't be soon enough. I don't like where I am in my head. Well, I've never liked where I am up there, but now is much worse than it's ever been. I need a break from whatever this is, at least for a while, and start playing in the immature way I was always able to do. I'm seeing the Dr.'s who I believe can help and I have to at least try to do my part.

 I need to find me again. I am the child I'm looking for. That child inside is, and always has been, the very best part of me. I can't do this without him. Sometimes I feel he's all I've got left and I've been letting him accept all the blows of life. He needs to come out and play. Hell, I need to come out and play.

My aunts funeral is Friday and I've been asked to be a pall bearer. I know I shouldn't be looking at this in this way but, I'm hoping I can bury some of the garbage in my head at the same time. I don't care where it goes, whether it has an afterlife or just squirms into oblivion. I need to find me again and maybe, if I can dump enough trash, perhaps a glimmer of the kid will show himself and maybe I'll be able to help him come out and play. I really wanna come out and play. You wouldn't believe how bad I wanna come out and play.

Even The Losers Get Lucky Sometimes

It's funny how many levels of loss there is in our lives. From the most inconsequential things to our greatest loves. You lose your keys or wallet. A little closer to home, in the "really doesn't matter" category, I seem to have misplaced my hair. We all know these things, in the grand scheme, truly mean little.

We lose things just by living. The innocence of a child is something we all admire. As the child gets older, through no fault of their own, that innocence slowly hardens as the bumps on the road of life take away a little of that incorruptibility, if you will. It's kind of an automatic process. Parents throughout history have called it growing up. Some accomplish it a little better than others, yet with a few exceptions, we all get there.

Unquestionably, the greatest loss is that of a loved one. The permanence of death brings an emptiness I've never understood how to fill. I miss my Grandfather, who died when I was 15, more and more each day and there are times I feel as if he passed away yesterday. Many have lost much more than I throughout their lives and I truly marvel at their ability to move on with their lives. Yes, I know, they have no choice, still, it's way above my ability to comprehend. It does make sense though. By that, I mean we all are destined to die. Nobody lives forever.

A type of loss that I've been subjected to over the last month or so is the loss of friends. Some close, some, I hardly knew. These losses are sometimes just as painful, to me, as losing someone close that had died. I understand I'm not the easiest guy to be around. I realize the effort it takes to be around someone as emotionally crippled as I am. Knowing these things doesn't make it any easier to someone like me. I always say to people how I know they think they have it bad, when dealing with me. I tell them they're fortunate that they can always go away. Me? I have to deal with me 24 hours a day. It sounds much funnier when stated out loud.

The bottom line is that I am who I am. My thoughts and emotions are the same as they've always been. I'm always being told that we choose who we are and we are the only ones that can change ourselves. Well, that may work for many of you but, try as I might, it doesn't for me. All I can really say is, if one is tired of my public whining, my constant anxiety over things that others find so difficult to understand or anything else I have always been so open about, well, I'm sorry. I have always been the first to admit that I'm way too honest about myself than I should be. If I knew how to turn that off, I would have as a child. If my writing is something you have found to wear thin, then stop reading. There really are very few out there that have had to deal with me in that state in person. I'm always amazed they have stuck around for so long.

I mourn the loss of these folks, truly. I will miss each and every one of them. I will also always cherish the time we spent as friends. I'd also like to let any of them know that I'll always be here. The yoyo of emotions will too. I guess, if we feel the worthiness, we have to accept the good with the bad. I will also say, as I've said before, I've always felt so fortunate to have you all in my life. However long you choose to stay.

It's Just The Way It Is

I got into a rather long argument with an out of town friend last night. This is a friend that considers herself, "spiritual" and has a deep seeded belief in God. I, on the other hand, have never believed in anything other than what I can see, feel or touch. Anyway, what really set her off was when I told her that I wasn't into the idea that life is this amazing gift we've all been given. I told her that in all honesty, I'd like to return it and not get a refund. Well, if you know me at all, you know that once I find something that really bothers someone, I'm all over it. So, I did my thing of making her upset, just because I could, and we finished the conversation with her in a rather foul mood.

 Here's the thing though: I believe those things I stated above. I don't believe that life is some gift to be cherished. This isn't something new, I've been telling shrinks and friends I didn't want to be alive since I was 12 years old. That isn't to say that I'm going to commit suicide, not gonna happen. As I've stated several times, I'm way to big a wimp to ever do anything to hurt myself. I do, however, go to bed each night with the hope that I won't wake up. When I talk to anyone about this I always get this sad look or, if on the phone, words of comfort about how loved I am and things of that nature.

This is where folks have a hard time understanding me. I appreciate each and every one of you and the feelings are more than mutual. I do love you all and you're one of the many reasons I have never attempted to hurt myself. That being said, If given a choice at birth, I would have chosen not to be born. I have always believed that there are certain people that "life" just isn't for. I've also always believed I'm one of those people. I don't believe it's sad to feel this way. I've spent my entire, and I do mean entire, life not wanting to be alive.I've also spent my whole life being sad and depressed. I look at it as just the way it is. I truly believe that this is nothing to feel sorry for me about. It's just the way it is, the way I am.

 I was talking to Shrink about the issue I've had with passing out lately. I told her that I felt I blew my chance to be done with life. We talked about how there is no pain or knowledge of my passing out and, therefore, no pain or knowledge involved if I never woke up. She understands that I'm not walking on a cliff looking for a place to jump so it puts her in the category of those that really understand what it is I'm trying to say here.

 I've written before about those folks I know that have recently died or are ill with things that could very well cause their death. These situations truly break my heart. I also believe that I feel a twinge of jealousy simply because they want to live and if I were the one that got sick, I'd be alright with it. Please don't write or call telling me about this journey I'm on or tell me how God loves me. As much as most of you believe in this higher power, I'm just as convinced it doesn't exist. I don't look at this as something to be sad about, I just see it as the way it is.

I'm No King Of The Forest

I have fallen so far in the last couple of months; I’m truly at a loss. All the thoughts in my head are strictly “anti-me”. Getting to despise, once again, who and what I am is so draining. I constantly just want to plow under the covers and sleep forever.

I know, we all have these down times and, as readers already know, I’ve had my share. Lately though, it’s gotten really bad. I look at the things I do, or don’t do, and can’t help but feel that I’m just a shit. My son and I haven’t spoken in almost four years. Why? Oh, a million reasons. Any of them valid? Of course not.

So, the question becomes, why don’t I just call him? It’s a very simple reason. I’m a coward. I can’t stand the thought of any type of confrontation. The fear that he, or any of the numerous people I’ve lost over the years, would say the things to me that I feel I deserve truly encompasses me.

 I’ve lost touch with someone that was very important to me for, pretty much, the same reasons. We had a wonderful email/ chat relationship for a couple years and I stopped writing for a bit. When that happened, I started to fear the repercussions of what she would say when I did write. Once again, there is no logical reason why I just wouldn’t send her a note and just apologize. I simply couldn’t find the strength or courage to do just that.

 I can look back on so many instances of my profound cowardice throughout my life. It started as a kid and only became more and more defined, as I’ve gotten older. I guess it also plays into my famous anxiety issues. I mean, it seems to me they’re one and the same.

 I’ve been on meds to help with the anxiety and, against orders, I’ve stopped taking them. I just wanted to try to feel normal. Be a regular person. All it’s done is allow me to see who I am once again. That same person that’s afraid of my own shadow and is more than willing to run and hide, rather than face the folks that care about me most.

 I’m really not liking me very much right now.

The Power Of The Pen

Throwing the blog out into public domain, as I have, has brought some interesting things into my little world. As far as the Internet reaches, it’s not uncommon for me to get comments, complaints and letters from people all over the world. I’ve written about some of the letters and people I’ve been in contact with. There are, not surprisingly, notes that I haven’t shared for privacy reasons. I’ve always made it clear that anyone’s secrets are safe with me when it comes to the blog and, I’m proud to say, that’s a promise I’ve held sacred.

         About a year ago I got a note from someone that, until now, I couldn’t imagine talking about to anyone except those with the need to know. The letter was from a young man, 17 years old, that was going through some major issues in his life and thought writing to this anonymous “Blogger”, as he called me, was a way to not only explain himself and what his plans were, but to also be hidden enough that hurting himself, if it came to that, couldn’t be interfered with.

         When the notes first started, I really didn’t think much of it. I get these kinds of notes all the time from people I don’t know. What started as simple notes of teenage angst however, soon became much more serious. The more I read from him, the more concerned I became. I had no idea who he was or where he lived and I didn’t even know where to begin to find out.

         His notes, which were now coming on an almost daily basis, were becoming more and more disconcerting. Though I kept replying with letters of support I was always trying to find out where he lived, as I wanted to get ahold of the authorities in his town to get this kid the help he so needed. It finally came to the point of either I get this kid some help or, I’m afraid, he would truly hurt himself.

         I ended up contacting “Google” because they host the blog and voiced my concerns. Some folks contacted me and I shared what info I had. At the time, I could only assume that they had found him as I stopped receiving notes and, as hard as I tried, couldn’t get any info from the people I had been in contact with. I sent him notes asking of he was ok, but he wouldn’t reply. I could only assume what might have happened and I decided to just wait and see if I heard anything again.

         Around three months later I started getting emails from him again with a much harsher tone. He said I had violated our trust and friendship, that I was nothing short of an absolute ass because I had contacted the authorities. He called me a fraud, among other things and said he was sorry he’d ever written me. He was sending me about three notes a week, each harsher than the previous. To say I had mixed feelings would be a major understatement. On the one hand I was happy to find that he hadn’t killed himself yet, on the other, I was crushed.

         Was he right? Did I violate our trust? Didn’t I have a duty here to alert the powers that be? It really threw me. I couldn’t write about it, wasn’t that the only part of the bargain that should be concerned about? I had such mixed feelings. I really had to question what my responsibilities were, in regard to the Blog. Did I owe anything to anyone simply because they connected to something I had written? I finally decided that this was much deeper than I ever planned. My only intention with the Blog was to allow myself to blow off steam. I decided I should no longer write in the same manner I always had. Granted, I couldn’t be held responsible for some messed up kid but I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was the catalyst for someone ending his or her life.

         Without the ability to share my feelings on the Blog, I found that I began losing a major part of myself. A part that, over the years, I had actually become proud of. Missing this piece of the puzzle that is me, became something that really weighed on me. I felt muzzled. Something had been taken away from me that had helped me in so many ways and it wasn’t fair. I started getting angry and I sent this kid a note, not even sure if he’d receive it, letting him know how I felt. This was in February of this year and that, until last week, was the last I heard of the entire thing.

         Trent (he said I could now use his name) sent me a note and actually apologized to me. He lives in a small town near Ottawa in Canada and had, indeed, attempted suicide. He had sent the angry notes from the hospital and had been in rehab now for a number of months. He said a number of very nice things and told me that, for a while, he felt I was the only friend he had. When the Authorities found who he was he felt betrayed. I can understand that. He was now feeling much better and was disappointed to see that I haven’t written in a while.

         It was very special to find that note in my in box. We’ve written each other, back and forth, a few times in the last week and Trent, now 18, is looking forward to starting college soon. That’s way cool and I’m so pleased to get the news. I hope to stay in contact with him for years to come.

         I don’t pretend to think that I had some major life changing words that was helping him over the time of our correspondence, nor that those words somehow pushed him closer to his attempted suicide. What I do know is that I did my best in a situation that was totally unfamiliar to me. I made changes to my life because of this situation and I don’t think I’d do anything differently. I’m very happy that Trent’s doing well. I’m also feeling like I got a little relief in my head because of all this. 

Way Overdue

I was 15 years old the first time I heard the band Rush’s first live album, “All The World’s A Stage”. I didn’t know much about the band at the time, I knew of their song, “Fly By Night”, but apart from that, I truly knew nothing about them. Anyway, A guy I worked with at a Gas Station was crazy about the band and while giving me a ride home he played a tape of the live album. I remember thinking how clean the guitars sounded and how odd the lead singers voice was.

The next day at school, I found I couldn’t get the sounds I’d heard the night before out of my head. It wasn’t anything like the music I normally listened to. This was loud, noisy and heavy rock. Still, there was something in it that just, I don’t know, gave me energy. It made me feel like I wanted to scream, jump up and down, anything to release this new feeling of sound from my insides. Over the next three years I became a fanatic. I saw them in concert a number of times and simply couldn’t get enough of this sound. I, along with thousands of guys my age just loved this band. There really were not very many girls who “got” them but the boys; well we just couldn’t get enough.

I eventually grew tired of them as my taste in music changed. That didn’t stop the band at all. They started releasing records that brought them great popularity, not only in the Midwest, where they were already rock n roll kings, but worldwide. I would hear the familiar sound of Alex Lifeson’s guitar, Geddy Lee’s distinctive voice or Neil Peart’s drumming and remember the madness I once held for them.

The band has been together now for almost 40 years. They’ve sold millions upon millions of records. They are an automatic sellout wherever they play. Somehow, after all these years, the critics have never given them their due. I find it amazing that this band is not in the Rock n Roll Hall Of Fame. I don’t listen to any of their stuff anymore except for the couple CD’s that I have of the albums I had when I was a kid. That doesn’t stop me from appreciating what they have done. This is three guys that, in concert, sound like a thirty piece band. Drummer Neil Peart is widely known as one of the great drummers of the rock era.

I think the time is long overdue for these guys to get the critical recognition they so well deserve. The Rock Hall has certainly missed the boat on this one. Rush is so deserving of the honor, it’s actually kind of shocking when I think about them not being in. C’mon, Hall, do the right thing. Make us proud and put these guys where they belong. Right alongside all the greats of Rock n Roll.