You don’t read much about male body issues. I read a lot about body image issues, but it’s pretty much all written by females and for females. I can’t recall a single article I’ve ever read about male body image issues. It’s as if they don’t exist. The world is trying to get women to feel better about their bodies, but they’re pretty much ignoring the men. Women aren’t the only ones with body fears.
I have pretty serious body image issues. I mean, how could I not? Yes, I’m 6′ tall, but I weigh upwards of 550 pounds. Even when I weighed 350, I hated my body. Now, I wear pants with a 56″ waist. I wear size 5XLT shirts. There is literally no store in my town of 180,000 people that sells clothing in my size. There was, but it closed down last year. I have to buy my clothing online and I pay at least $40 for a single t-shirt, and that’s the cheapest item I buy. The selection is fucking horrible too. Women have an entire industry dedicated to making cute clothes for big girls. There is nothing of the sort for men. If you are over a 2XL, good fucking luck finding something cool to wear. Even the big & tall places think big guys only want to wear suits, button ups, or polos. I want to fucking wear geek wear. I want Star Wars and Deadpool, not plaid button-ups. You would think the comic book industry would understand this.
I only own 7 shirts. Not because I don’t want more, but because they are the only ones I could find that didn’t suck. I own one hoody. It’s literally the only one I could find, and they don’t make it anymore. Pants are easier to find, but they pretty much only want to make cargo pants, dress pants, or jeans. I’m not sure if that’s a universal thing though as even when I was less fat, I only wore Dickies pants and shorts. Really, they don’t make much clothing for big guys and that which they do make is super fucking expensive and not at all a style I want to wear.
This is about more than just clothes though. The US already hates fat people, but they seem to hate fat men the most… unless they’re funny. In media, the only fat men are either constantly shamed and the butt of all jokes, or they are the one making the jokes. John Goodman, Billy Gardell, Chris Farley, John Belushi, Ralphie May, Gabriel Iglesias. These are some of the very few positive male role models of size that I have. Of them all, Goodman is the only one that ever had anything other than funny roles. I realize that women don’t have many either, but they do have Oprah, Melissa McCarthy, Mo’Nique, Roseanne Barr, Mia Tyler (pretty sure there isn’t a SINGLE big male model…), and so many more. Big women in media still take shit for being big, but they are respected and don’t have to rely solely on how funny they are to get respect. They can get respect because of who they are, not how they act. And people stick up for them.
This is also evident in porn. There’s an entire and very large (no pun intended) genre of porn dedicated to large women. For the most part, they are not portrayed as disgusting or gross and are even referred to as “Big Beautiful Women” (BBW). There’s really no corresponding genre for men (I’ve looked). Yes, porn is directed at men, but there’s really no representation of big men in porn. If they are there, it is purely for ridicule and disgrace. The men in porn are almost always muscular, or at the very least, skinny. Even the creepy ones aren’t fat.
Men don’t take as much crap in the media for being big though, so that could help explain why there is less talk about body issues with men. Men are generally allowed a bit more “wiggle” room in their size. The acceptable size for men is a bit larger than it is for women. That doesn’t mean all sizes are accepted though. If you’re exceptionally large (as in, not just 15-25 lbs overweight), you’re probably going to get dirty looks because of your size. I know women go through this as well, but they have support. They have people that speak out for them and help to change this perception. Men don’t really have support like that.
Women, now, are taught to embrace their body. That all types are okay and that you should not feel shame for your body type. Guys don’t really get that. Nobody really talks about our bodies. There are no blogs dedicated to making us all feel as though we are normal. There are no photography exhibits showing off all of the different sizes of men or nationwide commercials saying that real men have curves. Society says that men do not have issues with their body image. They deal with personality but ignore that our bodies affect us the way that a woman’s body affects her. Men are not supposed to have body issues. That’s a woman issue.
In the end, I’m not trying to say that women have it easier. Not at all. Our society is still gender-biased towards males. I know that this issue is difficult for both sexes. What I am trying to say though, is that men do not have the support that women have. If you are not a physically fit alpha male trying to dominate everything in sight, you are not considered at all. If you have issues with how you look you’re told to suck it up because nobody cares.
Or, I could be completely off with all of this and I just haven’t looked hard enough/don’t know where to look. I don’t know. I just know that as I wrote this blog and read others about body issues, I felt very alone as a big man having issues with his size. Because of that, I lashed out some. I know that women have it rough as well, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to be upset about this either.
It’s a bit fucked up how excited I get when my favorite bands have new albums out and I get to listen to them. Right now, I’m listening to How I learned to Stop Giving a Shit and Love Mindless Self Indulgence by MSI and it’s better than the first time I had sex. I’m pretty sure this is what love feels like. My pulse is racing, my face is flush, there’s a grin on my face that won’t leave, and I want nothing more than to spend all of my time with it. I am excited about all of the twists and turns that the music will provide in its playing. And it will change every time I listen to it. It will grow and I will love it more, even if it doesn’t excite me as much as it used to. Eventually, it will be comfortable and I will listen to it until I know everything about it, but I will always find new things in it. Even if I move onto other things, I will always be able to return to it and enjoy it and love it again.
I suppose none of that is fucked up. What’s fucked up is that I have had more meaningful relationships with albums than I have ever had with a woman. Music has never hurt me the way that they have. It has never told me it just wanted to be friends, that I was too weird, that it just wasn’t interested. Music has provided me more emotional support as well. It has helped me through every heartache and painful moment. Music has never left me either.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Alternatively: Why can’t I find someone that won’t hurt me?
I’ve been thinking about language. Language is a living and changing thing. It changes slowly, but it does change. Based upon how the majority of speakers of a language use words some fall into disuse, change meaning, change spelling, or any number of other things. Gay is not used to mean happy anymore. Nobody says gadzooks (Chrome doesn’t even recognize it as a real word). Encyclopedia lost its æ. ‘You and me’ is now accepted in place of ‘you and I’. Words change. Language evolves, but not always for the better.
The thing I have been thinking of most is words changing spelling. Specifically, does this change happen because people can’t spell words? Will ‘your’ one day be an acceptable form of ‘you are’? Are contractions now just accepted as whole words rather than a mash up of two other words? WTF has entered the lexicon as a word (of sorts) that expresses an emotion or reaction far more than actual expression of ‘what the fuck’. What is our language becoming? Will we recognize it when we are old?
The grammar nazis are losing. Intelligence is dying. Unless we actually choose to turn away from it and celebrate intelligence, grammar, and proper use of words, our language and our society is fucked. Newspeak for all! I wonder how George Orwell would feel knowing that we are moving ever closer to his satirized language. I think he would be disappointed, I know I am.
I suppose this is where I start thinking back on the year that is ending today. However, I spend much time thinking about what has and has not happened, so these things are never far from my mind and summing them up in predetermined segments like a calendar year rather than as the journey they were seems odd.
Can a year be your best and your worst? A lot happened this year. Some good, some bad, and some heartbreaking.
I started making art again and have made a ton of it, even going so far as to sell a piece. I began writing again as well. I have created 70+ posts here for the purpose of expelling and exploring my demons. I have begun to open up and talk to people about the things that I am dealing with. I have grown as a person, though I still have a long way to go.
A lot has changed, though a lot remains the same. I still struggle with loneliness and socializing. I want to fix it, but I’m not there yet. I also managed to fall for someone that would never care for me, again. I may have lost my virginity and cared for someone this year, but I still ended up getting hurt in the end and am still dealing with the fallout to this day. I don’t know when I’ll be past it, but I know that I am no longer thinking of it constantly, only when I come into contact with her… or try to masturbate, but that’s another story.
In all, I’d say the year was neutral. The highs were high, and the lows were low, but they averaged out. It was one of the most active years I have had in a long time, and I think it was just a precursor. There’s more to come; there has to be. This year has been all about building, and growing, and opening up, but for what? I do not know yet, though I think I’ll find out in 2013. I have no idea what is in store for me for the year ahead, but I hope it’s good. It would be nice to have a truly good year for once.
This post should probably be longer or more in depth, but I think i am still too close to all that happened this year to really see it for what it is. As 2013 progresses and unfolds, I think I will start to see the outcome of all that I did in 2012. I just hope it comes out for the best.
I am exhausted. I have been up for almost 24 hours now and I have to start work in an hour and a half. Sleep is not an option for me at this point. I lie down and close my eyes just to wake up.
Behind closed eyes, there is naught but ghostly technicolor reminiscent of an acid flashback. Glowing faintly, pulsing, moving over an empty song that plays in my mind. I try to put it all behind me, but it haunts me, skittering along and toying with my mind just enough to keep it from passing over the threshold of sleep.
And now I sit here, in a state of half aware wakefulness, watching the time countdown slowly until I start work. Eyes blurring, but mind sharp. Wondering if I will make it through my shift or pass out in the middle.
Music floats into my ears. When I drift to lower consciousness, I see and feel sounds. My mind is too malleable for what I have chosen to listen to. It will not influence me to act anything out, but it will exacerbate the issues within myself that I am able to put off on a rested mind. I can’t hide from myself, from that fact that in spite of it all, part of me expects to die alone having never had someone to share my life with. I can’t seem to overcome that thought. I suspect it is wrong, but there is overwhelming evidence to support it. I know things I could do to make it happen, but I don’t actually understand how they work. If any of them work it is through pure, dumb luck.
I do hate this subject and that I keep saying I hate it and talking about it anyways. I can’t escape it.
Yesterday and today my best friend and I started actually working on getting things together to begin a business venture that could potentially take care of us for the rest of our lives. I won’t go into it much, but suffice to say, it revolves around something we both enjoy and love. This is a long term project though. We are still in the learning and planning phase, but once we have done that we will start building and creating the first instances of our product.
I wish you would be cruel to me. Harass me, belittle me, use me, hurt me. The most painful gift you have ever given me is your kindness. I want to hate you, but I can’t.
The above has sat here for a while, written to every woman I had pined for. I should write more about it, but I can’t. My writing has mostly left me lately. It’s not that I am uninspired, it is that I can’t seem to make anything coherent. I have bits and pieces, but no cohesion. It is all just spattered across the page, waiting for clarity. I’ve even had trouble drawing lately. Work has been stressful. The new position is much more than I expected.
I’ve been thinking about love a lot, though that is nothing new. What is new is how I have been thinking about it. Rather than just pining painfully for it, I have been trying to figure out what it is I want and what it is I think love is. I have come to some conclusions but I have raised more answers than anything else. I know now that one of thing biggest things I want is to be held. I don’t think a woman has ever held me. It seems awkward, considering my size, but it is not so unreasonable.
I don’t know. As my words fail me, my art grows. This past week I have been working on a new piece. It is a continuation of the series I have done previously, but it is also a huge growth. I worked on learning an entirely new style based on the Japanese ink drawings of waves. It is my take on it and I enjoyed doing it. I don’t have much to say, really. I think the piece speaks for itself. As for the rest of the stuff I have talked about here, there’s a real blog post about it to come at some point, but I have no idea when.
Introspection is not always such a noble thing to have. While it can lead to deeper understanding of one’s self, knowing those things is not always good. Oftentimes the things you learn lead to more questions and the cycle repeats until you are so far within that you cannot see the path back out.
There is no kind way to put it, but I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be too stupid to know you’re fucked up. There is a certain sort of peace that can be achieved in just living as you are without analyzing why it is you are as you are. I realize that this is something that can be achieved by anyone no matter their intelligence level, but I find that the fact that I can seek out the reasons behind things means I have to and that I have no choice in it sometimes.
This is not to say I am better than anyone for this. Nobody is any better than another person, and I least of all. We are all on equal ground until we go forth and prove that we do not deserve to be, but it is not for me to decide who is better or worse. Others will decide that among themselves, though they likely shouldn’t. Judgement should be left to those that cannot be judged themselves, but such is not our society.
Going back, introspection is something I am cursed with. It does not have to be curse, but it has been thus far. At the height of my worst depression introspection was all that I had. I went so deep that I could not find a way out. I was stuck within myself, analyzing all that had failed in my life until that time. I could not find the balance between it and living.
I am still quite introspective, but now I am trying to find the balance. I can analyze myself, but I also need to go out and put what I find to use. I haven’t done that much lately, though. Since I got back from my trip I have been stuck in a state of deep introspection. I have shut myself away from the world for a time as I figure out where I succeeded and where I failed. It is a step backwards, but I think it is one I needed to take. But, now, I need to start making steps forward again. I thought my art was that, but it was more of a step sideways. It was good, but it was just another aspect of introspection.
I think that two months of deep thought on all that happened on my trip is enough. It was a huge moment in my life. For the first time in many years, I went very far out of my way to be with a woman. Looking back, I probably should have avoided it because it left me more hurt than healed, but I am glad I did it. Yes, she was not someone I could be with, but I could never know that until I went and saw it for myself. It showed me that even if it may not work out, I can put myself out there if I think it might be worthwhile. It may have even be good that it failed, because this time it failed in a positive matter. Yes, it hurt, but it did not drag me down as much as it would have in the past. I know I have stepped away from things for a bit, but I think that is natural in such a situation.
I also lost my stigmata, my virginity. It hung over me like a dark cloud. I wore it like a badge of shame. Losing it was nothing as I expected. I did not suddenly gain anything. I am still the same person. The only difference is that I cannot call myself a virgin any longer.
The only real change that losing my virginity brought is that my libido is off the charts and I can’t stop thinking about all that we did that weekend. It has driven me crazy lately. It has also negatively affected my relationship with the woman at times, as I cannot always keep myself from asking if we can go back to it at times even though we have both decided to leave that aspect out of our relationship going forward. I’m not the least bit happy I cannot contain myself at all times, but sometimes the tension within me is too great to ignore and it bursts forth in the most inappropriate of ways. I wish I could handle it better, but I’m just not certain what to do. I’m to the point of… handling things… 3+ times a day lately, to the point of pain. I know that getting laid would help, but that is another can of worms that I am still working on.
I find it interesting that a post about the pitfalls of introspection lead to a short period of introspection. I suppose it should be only natural to assume that when discussing a topic, one would delve into it and find unexpected paths within it. Not all introspection is bad though. It is a very useful tool that can be used to understand yourself better and become a better person, but it must be used wisely. If you are overly introspective you can negatively affect yourself. You can go so deep into it that you get lost and you start critiquing every single word or thought that you have. If you go that deep you are only hurting yourself as you can become more worried about the consequence of the action before it is made and forget that action needs to be made in order to actually have a consequence to analyze. Once you begin to analyze what-ifs, you risk losing yourself for fear of making the wrong decision, which is something I did for many years and have been doing for the past 2 months. Though, now that I see it I should be able to move past it.
I watched American Hardcore last night. It is a documentary about the rise and downfall of the Hardcore Punk scene across America. It was very inspiring. Watching Ian MacKaye talk about pulling apart the sleeve for a 7″ so they could figure out how to make them themselves and then gluing together 1000+ of them for their first singles was incredible. Seeing everyone talk about their role in the scene and the passion they still hold was inspiring.
They didn’t do it for fame or for money, they did it because they wanted to make music and that was the only way they could.
After watching it though, I have to wonder to myself: What music from today would get this kind of documentary 20 years after it died? I can’t really think of any. Yes, we have a few bands that will probably stand the test of time, but I don’t see anymore Black Flags, SSDs, Minor Threats, or Bad Brains. I’m not holed up in the past either; I am always out there searching for new bands. I see greatness out there, but I do not see any bands that are starting a scene they way these guys did. It’s a shame. We could use that nowadays.
Part of why this is inspiring to me is that even though I bitch about my personal life and certain things I am lacking, I am trying to apply the DIY ethos to my life. I am attempting to create a business out of nothing. If I want to get paid to make art, I have to be the one to put my stuff out there. Nobody is going to just magically hand me money for it. If I want this to amount to anything, I am going to have to get out there and do it. I have been trying to do this. I have drawn at least one piece everyday since I got my tablet. I have even managed to find my own personal style, though I will also find more as I play with the tablet.
Though I have mostly used my blog to expel my demons, it is also a place for me to put my art out there and eventually promote it. All that I am doing now is the precursor. My blog is a stepping stone. It is a toe in the water of running my own website. I spent about 3 hours last night researching websites and figuring out what I need to do to get one up and running. I learned HTML coding many years ago, I have a basic knowledge of CSS, and I have been designing images that I would love to use as backgrounds for years. I look forward to putting all of this into a website someday soon. Probably far sooner than I even realize just yet.
On top of the 5 entries I have posted this week, I’ve tried to write about 5-7 other entries that just wouldn’t form. They were all very fractured and incomplete. I’ve felt drawn to write whenever I started them, but I have been unable to form the thoughts that are floating around. I’ve tried to write about love, loneliness, friendship, music, and more. The music one is the most complete, but even that wouldn’t finish.
I think I’ve said all that I can on most of those subjects for now. Most of my entries have been about love or loneliness and I think I’ve come to the end of that for now. It doesn’t feel like the past where it would build up to the point of being overwhelming. This time, it feels like I’ve just talked it to its stopping point. There’s not much more I can say. I think that going forward, I need to just put it out of my mind for a time. At this point, talking about it can’t do anything else for me, so I need to just accept that I do not have love for now and that I am to be alone for a while longer yet.
These past 4 weeks have been tumultuous and exciting. So much has happened and I’ve written about all of it. I have written at a furious pace and part of me feels like I need to keep it up, which is ironic considering I felt like I was posting too much when it was happening. The reality is, I don’t need to write here. I do this because it helps me focus my thoughts into something far more coherent than what happens in my mind. My mind is a… unique… place. I’ll not lie, it is extraordinary. However, that translates to working on so many different levels that I can’t always keep track of them all. This blog is here to help me find the threads in some of the levels and follow them and place them in some sort of order that makes sense to myself. Once they are ordered, I can distinguish them from the tangents that form around them and find conclusions to the thoughts.
I’ve talked with my best friend about this blog. It kinda pisses him off. He wishes I would talk to him directly about stuff in this blog and wonders why I can’t do that when I can post it so freely here for others to read. I’ve tried to explain it, but I am not that great in face to face chats. Here, I have hours to find and craft the words. Face to face I have seconds, and while I am quick witted, real answers don’t come that quickly for me. I need to think about how to say stuff before I say it. While I write this in a manner that suggests I am writing to a large audience of readers, I’m not. I just don’t know how to write any other way. I’m only writing this to myself. Yes, I post it to the internet at large, but I don’t expect anyone to read it. I would like for that to happen, but I don’t expect it.
I can’t entirely explain why I post this. I think I just want people to know who I am and understand me. As my best friend pointed out, I want to be accepted. I’ve rarely ever been accepted for exactly who I am. That’s not the entire reason for it though, it’s just a small part of it. I think I just want people to know who I am. I have always felt invisible. With few exceptions, I have always felt replaceable. I want to feel somehow special. I know, “You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.”, but doesn’t everyone want to feel special in some way? I want to feel like someone needs me in their life. I know my best friend feels that way, but that is very different, though that may just be taking him for granted which is wholly unfair. I wouldn’t be anywhere if it weren’t for him, but there is one role in my life he can’t play.
It’s that role that I write about so much. It is the one thing I have yet to have any experience with and it is the thing I’ve been looking for the longest. In truth, I don’t know why I want it so badly. There is a very distinct possibility that I will find someone and find out that I really don’t want that. In spite of all my talk of loneliness, I’m actually pretty good at being alone. I can take care of myself well enough and don’t need someone around me at all times. In fact, I have problems being around people in general. I don’t really like them. Because of that, relationships may just fail for me. However, I have always felt a longing to be with someone. All I have to go on is how I feel when I have a woman to talk to that seems to be progressing towards something other than friendship. The only real conclusion I can come to about all of this is ‘I don’t know’.
That brings me back to my original point: I need to put those thoughts of love and loneliness aside and focus on other things for now. I can’t put anymore of myself into fretting over whether or not I will die alone. If it happens, it happens. Until that day, I need to put my efforts into better myself and my position in life. Right now, I’m still pretty emotionally crippled. I’m also pretty fucking poor. I have a job and make enough to get by, but only barely. I’m tired of surviving. I want to start thriving. If I put this crap out of my mind and focus my efforts on my art, I think I can start doing that. Once I start thriving, then other things will fall into place and begin to happen.
It will never fully leave my mind though. It’s been too big a part of me for too long. I will always long for someone, but I can choose not to focus on it.
Fuck, this is all so scattered and broken. I don’t know if it makes any sense at all. I don’t think it matters though. This whole ‘fixing myself’ thing is being invented as I go. I’ll probably fuck it all up, but I have to try. I should see a therapist, really, but I can’t afford that. So, until I can, I wing it and hope for the best.
I’m still adrift. I think I can see something on the horizon, but I don’t know if it is an island, a ship, mainland, or a figment of my imagination borne of desperation. I’m leaning towards it being real. I should be desperate, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t feel desperate. I’ve just never actually tried to get anywhere before, so I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m making it all up as I go along. I don’t really have any tools for all of this. This is all virgin territory for me.
For the majority of the day, I have been getting wisps of thoughts that come up. They’re mostly unclear, just the idea of a concept, but when they surface I find that I am struggling to hold back tears.
Comfort. That’s what I’m looking for. I don’t actually now what it is. To be honest, I almost looked it up in the dictionary before I started writing this bit. That is how foreign the word is to me. I have nothing I can look back on and think ‘Yeah, that’s what comfort feels like’. I’m sure there are things, but they were long enough ago that I can’t remember them. I think comfort is happiness, but more than that. It is prolonged happiness coupled with contentedness and so much more.
Really though, that’s just a guess. I can’t actually tell you what it is. I’ve sought it everywhere, but have never found it. The bottom of the bottle didn’t have it. Nor did the peak of an acid trip. That last bite of amazing food didn’t give it to me either. There’s only one avenue left that I am aware of that I haven’t ever really had the chance to try, but there’s a good possibility that will be as hollow as food, drugs, or drink. If I don’t find it in the arms of another, I’m out of ideas and don’t know what to do from there. If I have to find it within myself, I think I’m fucked. I’ve never found a whole lot in there. It’s mostly just survival stuff. I don’t know how to thrive and prosper, just eek by.
I’m not really certain though. Most days I would say I’m neutral. Not bad, but not good. There are still more bad days than good, but there are more neutral days than the others combined.
Today, however, has been more towards the bad side. I’ve been off since I woke up from a very vivid dream in which I died. I remember feeling the top of my head and my hand ripped off by shrapnel from a crashing plane (there was much, much more but I’ll not go into it). I remember being conscious afterwards in the dream, and as I faded I woke up, startled. My hand and forehead were numb from an awkward sleeping position. Ever since then, I’ve been struggling with this day. I was cooking breakfast this afternoon and as I was walking back to my room to eat I got the most overwhelming need to cry and I have no idea why. The whole day I have felt down with no real explanation of why.
I’ve been trying to use music to drown it all out. It isn’t really working, but at least the music is good. I’ve spent the day listening to the new Mumford & Sons album, Babel, on repeat. It is soothing, in a way, but it’s not what I need. It is only doing so much. I’m still struggling to find what it is I need.
I did stumble upon something though. I was running around the ‘net, searching for stuff that makes me laugh. I came back to youtube to see what my favorite channels had posted since last I’d been there and I came across a video by the ever amazing Hannah Hart. In it, she talks about stuff I have been dealing with for a while now. She talks about fearing to put effort into things and fail at them. Putting effort in can be very difficult, and the thought of caring enough to do it only to fail can be paralyzing. I don’t try for much anymore because of it… because I have failed at things before. You can’t get what you want if you don’t try though, and I have rarely ever gotten what I want. All I ever seem to get is what is willing to be given to me.
I just don’t know how to take that first step and just do it. It all looms so large in front of me. The possibility of greatness is there, but there is also the chance that it will all fall apart. I’m coming to a tipping point though, I think. Some day soon, I’m going to have to decide that the thought of living as I am now forever is worse than what I fear might, maybe, possibly, probably not happen. I know better, I really do, it’s just difficult. I know that once I do it I’ll look back and wonder why I waited so long, but that first step is the hardest. Everything hangs on the first step. If you don’t take it, you can’t fail. You also cannot succeed though.
I’m getting tired of what it is I am writing. I feel like it is all I talk about. There is more to me, but if I get right down to the core, this is what comes out. I also feel odd talking about it. Love is a subject men are, traditionally, not supposed to care much about. Everything you see portrayed is men getting suckered into it. That is not true of course. I know I am not a lone male with these thoughts, but I often feel that way.
I think I need to start working on a more concrete plan for what I want out of my life. For many years I have been working on ideals alone. I’ve been thinking in the abstract with ‘love, a career, family, means to take care of myself’. If I want to see any of those things, I need to start defining a plan, figure out what it takes to get to all of those things and start doing things to work towards it.
I haven’t actually done that in a very long time. The last time I really had any guidance for my life was when I was still in High School. All I really knew then was that I had to work towards finishing school and then get into college or some sort of secondary schooling. Once I got there, you add that to everything else in my life and I was one very lost young adult. I have also never been the one to set the goals for myself. Finishing school and moving onto secondary school is a pretty standard goal set.
At one point in my life I thought I was meant to be a pastor, but with everything that happened, that just wasn’t going to happen, so I moved on to my secondary dream of working with cars. To that end, I went to UTI and got myself into massive amounts of debt and found that the industry doesn’t give a flying fuck about whether you went to school or not. The automotive industry can be harsh. They don’t want to apprentice anymore, from what I have seen. When I moved back to Oregon to lick my wounds, I applied at every shop I could find and never got a single call back. Granted, I was looking at the start of the recession, but all they wanted was old guys with 10+ years of experience. It didn’t help that dealership work was not for me. Custom work is where I wanted to be, but that is even harder to get into than a dealership. So, I was just lost and couldn’t find my way out.
However, now that I am on the upswing and getting my life sorted, I think it will go better this time. I do want to eventually get back into the automotive field, but I am not as set in that as I was at one point. I do currently have a job, but it is not a career. I would not at all mind doing what I am currently doing if there were opportunities to move up, but I have not seen that there are yet. With that in mind, my ultimate goal would be to make art of any kind and get paid to do so. The dream would be to be the head artist at a custom car shop, but as long as I am making art, able to support myself (and then some), and happy I am fine with any job. Right now, I enjoy my job, but I am barely surviving.
To that end, I need to figure out what I need to do to achieve that. I believe, to start, I need to keep doing more of what I have been doing. I need to continue painting and drawing and working on enhancing my skill. As I start to do that, I can start getting out some to find paid work that I can do to further my skill. Building a portfolio and getting better at painting are imperative to getting into the field somewhere. I think that between now and when I get into the automotive field again, I will start an Etsy page (or something, I am unsure yet) and start doing some commission work on shoes, shirts, and anything else people want. As I do more paid work, that will allow me to start upgrading all of my gear for painting, eventually making it possible to do bigger and better things. Right now my set up is fairly basic, so I do need to keep in mind that it needs attention as well.
That is not the only career path I see for myself though. I have also been idly looking into distilling. It is something my best friend and I are interested in doing and may get started sometime in the next year. There are many possibilities in that if we can figure out a god recipe for our rum. Starting a boutique distillery is a possibility, if we can find backers and have a good product. In addition to that, I would love to stay at my current job as I do love it, but as yet, there is no path of upward mobility. If I am to stay with this job, I need to at least know I can move up eventually. I really want to stay with it though and even if there is no path, I would likely stay with it far longer than I should.
I guess now that I have a weak outline of a career path, I should start working on a path for my love life. The problem with that is, I have no idea. That is entirely a mystery to me. I do not know where to go to find someone.
That’s a lie. I think I have always known where I would find someone, I just avoid it because it means dealing with more stuff head on. The only real answer I have is church. That presents many problems though. While I believe in the Christian God and that Jesus Christ died on the cross for my sins, I have a lot of trouble with church and religion. Many terrible things have been and are perpetuated in the name of the Christian God, among others. I do not believe in many of the same things that other Christians believe in, so I do not call myself a Christian. I believe in evolution, to a point. To deny evolution is folly. You can see it all around you. My one objection to evolution is that I do not believe we are descendant from apes. While we are similar, I do not see strong evidence for it yet. I also have objections to how people interpret the rules and guidelines that are set forth in the Bible. I believe that many of the Jewish laws were there as a way to perpetuate the Jewish people and make certain that they survive, but I do not know that it is necessarily still true today. I believe that above all else, Christ came to free us from those laws and that he taught us that we should love one another.
However, I will not go further into that for this blog. That is a very large can of worms that I will save for another blog, though it seems much closer today than it was before.
What I am trying to say with that is: as much as I understand that I should go to church and that that is where I am most likely to find someone to spend my life with, I am very much not ready to start going to church again. There are still things I need to reconcile in my life before I can start going back to church. The whole thing is difficult for me. I will get there eventually, but there is still much left for me to work on.
Before then, I still need to work on my own issues. One major thing I need to work on is my weight. It is a hindrance, and not just because fewer people like big people. How is anyone supposed to love me as I am if I do not love me as I am? I hate my body. I am trapped within it. It holds me back from many things. I do what I can to persevere in spite of it, but I can only ignore it for so long. I have to deal with this, now. I can’t put it off until tomorrow. I’m actually not all that afraid of dying because I am fat. I just know that it is another aspect of myself that I need to change if I am ever going to get myself right. I can do all the mental healing I want, but if I still look in the mirror and hate what I see, it won’t do me any good.
That means I need to start walking again, to start. I also need to start eating better. I do not mind healthy food, I just don’t care to cook for myself all that much. Doing anything when you weigh 550+ pounds is difficult. I actually very much hate saying that aloud. It’s a shameful number. I was always big, but that big? That’s disgusting. Not to mention all of the social stigma that comes along with being so big. I was working to lower it a few months ago, but then about a month and a half ago I got bogged down. I was going to say I didn’t know what happened, but I do. I was signing onto the comp and foregoing the walk in order to talk to someone. It was stupid. I tried not to, but I’m such a fool for having someone to talk with, always hoping that the talk will become more. That was why I stopped walking. The diet stopped because I got lazy. I need to dig deeper and suck it up. I have no one to blame for this other than myself and I have only myself to change it.
So, if I can’t go where I need to go to find someone and if I can’t get myself right to be with them, I shouldn’t bitch about wanting to meet someone. I can give excuses as to why I want to meet them, but they don’t really matter. In the end, I just need to accept that I am not ready for it and work to get myself ready for it. It will happen when it happens and not a second sooner. All my whining will not speed it up.
You know, this entire thing started as a way for me to talk about what it was I wanted in a relationship. I kind of still want to talk about that, but now it feels like it will be some awkward, forced post script. Fuck it. I’ve already come this far, I may as well keep going.
With the exception of the times in my life when I am talking to someone and it seems to be (or has) headed towards something romantic, I do not actually see anyone in my mind when I think of ‘Her’. I have no single type that I am most physically attracted to. I have features I enjoy, but none of them are deal breakers. I am far more interested in personality, but even then I have no strong preferences. I do not think I could have preferences yet. I’ve never had anyone so I do not entirely know what I want or need. All I really know is that I want someone that enjoys physical contact. Someone that can stimulate me intellectually. Someone that enjoys goofing off but can be serious as well (I really am just a big kid). I want someone I can talk with.
I don’t entirely know. That really was as forced as I thought it would be. I can’t really know anything until I am out there more. One thing I realized this weekend while I was out at the bars with friends is that I do not care for that scene at all. I hate it, actually. I only go because my friends want to go. I feel no compulsion to go up to any of those women (with the exception of the woman that looked like Number 6…). I have no ‘game’, nor do I really want to develop ‘game’. That is not who I am. I am very honest and straightforward. I don’t give two shits about going to the bar and trying to find a woman that will go home with me and sleep with me. I don’t really want sex, I want companionship. I did want that before I lost my virginity, but I didn’t know how very different sex and companionship were. Before then, they were closely intertwined in my mind. Now that I know better and which of the two that I want, I know the bar scene isn’t for me. I’ll go out and I’ll enjoy hanging out with my friends, but that’s it. I won’t turn anything away, but I won’t actively seek it either.
So, with all of this in mind I start to really look towards my future. It still confuses me, but at least I can see things out there now. For a long time it was all darkness. I wasn’t even sure I would make it out there. I don’t know how long it will all take, but I’ll make it there someday.
I think that after this post I may go dark until this Sunday. I’ve had a furious pace since I got back from my trip. I’ve written a lot here and covered a lot of ground. Now, I still feel the need to write but there is nothing specific that wants to be discussed. I can’t force this. If I force it, I run the risk of burning out on it and writing just to write, which will do me no good. I have to remember that this is here to help me heal, not for those that read it. I do hope that those that read this get something out of it though, but I cannot worry about that yet. In the future I will write for readers, but for now, I write for myself and my health.
I feel like with all that I’ve written about and processed since I came back, I need to go out and let myself go for a bit. just get away from it all and have a night free from it. I’m kind of burned out. I haven’t had a day off since last Thursday. I’ve worked 8 hours a day every day since then and my work hasn’t been easy this week. I’m getting slammed with menial busy work on top of the normal work that I do each day. I’ve also written 10 or so blogs in that same time frame. I’m just really fucking tired in spite of sleeping well for 8-ish hours each night.
My mind has been working over time for about a week and a half now and it needs a break. Unfortunately, I can’t just turn it off. I typically need some help with that. To that end, I’m gonna go out Saturday, watch the Duck game, watch Jon “Bones” Jones beat the shit out of Vitor Belfort, and drink. Should really help me relax and recover.
All I can think now is ‘My mind is fried’ and not in the good way like when you drop acid. I feel like it is full, but at the same time, I feel like there is nothing in there. It’s all airy chaos. All of this time in overdrive has it burning out. it needs to rest if I am to continue on.
I’ve been listening to more music these past 4 days than I have in a while. I think I’m trying to dig deep into it and find inspiration. I feel like it should be inspiring me to do more than I am, but I think what it is actually doing is giving me the motivation to finish what I need to do to make it through until I have days off. I’m trying to find a visceral experience in it that will drive me to create and move me. I haven’t turned this far into music in a very long time. it is nice to know it is still there if I need it.
I don’t remember the last time I was this weary. Because of that, I know this entry is scattered and fractured. It’s difficult to be clear when you have trouble just focusing on work and trying to get through it to go to sleep.
So, with that. I’m going to post this and sign out for a bit. I’ll be back though. I don’t think I could actually turn my back on this even if I wanted to.
I’m not really sure what I want to write. I kind of want to bitch at myself for whining about love and loneliness so much, but that doesn’t feel right. I do talk about it a lot, but I think I’m finally managing to come to peace with where I am and am nearly ready to finally let it go and just wait and see what happens while I work on other things. Really, I just don’t know anymore. I’ve shaken out a lot of stuff this past week and now I’m trying to sort it all. I shouldn’t be so impatient though, it’s only been a week since I dealt with some of my largest issues and a few months since I really started working on any issues. There’s only so much that can happen in that amount of time, but because the waiting extends far prior to the working, I keep feeling like it should have happened. I know better, but that doesn’t always quell the thoughts and impatience. So, my goal for now is to work on patience and work on my art and healing myself.
Speaking of art, I played with my markers last night. Ended up with a few interesting drawings. I’ll upload them here to share. I won’t go much into meaning or anything though. I do not like to assign meaning to my images (the exception to this being those that I drew while tripping). I prefer to allow others to assign their meaning to it. For me, the process of making art is very much chaotic and random. I am capable of drawing things that I see, but some things are done by simply putting marker (or pen, pencil, whatever) to substrate and seeing what the fuck happens. Of the three drawings I did, one was something I saw (though it took its own form) and the other two were purely random. One of the randoms I understand but the other is truly abstract, though it does have a form to it.
Unfortunately, my scanner blows out the colors some. I was able to adjust for most of it, but the faint orange that I use on the beak and on the winged one’s back do not show up correctly even after color adjustments.
Really not sure where to end this post. I’m still trying to get a handle on manifesting the strides I have taken mentally into the physical realm. To that end, I drew the pictures above, I have continued to clean and rearrange my room, and I have started trying to get back to eating healthy again. I still feel like there is much to do, but it will come in time. I am very much looking forward to my days off this weekend. I haven’t had a day off since last Thursday which was supposed to be the day I was coming home. because of that, I have been somewhat cut off from friends (not having a car will do that, but that is my next big step). So, it will be good to get out there and see them this weekend. Maybe get some alcohol in me and just let the fuck go for a night.
I had one of the more interesting experiences of my life last night while I slept. I had a dream that was so funny I actually woke myself up laughing. I’ve never before experienced something like that. I’ve thrashed hard enough to wake myself up, I’ve been shocked into waking up, and I’ve snored loud enough to wake up, but I’ve never had a dream where I was so happy and laughing in it that it translated to me actually waking myself up with laughter. And not just a titter or a giggle, but full on, near-hysterical, belly laugh. it was a wholly unique experience and I was actually a bit euphoric when it happened, even calling it ‘magical’ in a Facebook post that ended up getting lost in the ether.
The question it leaves me with is, ‘Is this the sort of thing that happens when you are happy?’. I believe that dreams do tell us things. Dreams are our mind’s way of decompressing and dealing with the problems of the day and over the course of our life. They are shaped by what we have done and though they may be fantastical and strange sometimes, that is just because we do not always understand how the mind worked through something, or maybe we don’t have the whole picture. Dreams can be powerful things, so I have to wonder if such a happy dream as this (for the laughter and the scene that produced it were not the only happy portion) is a sign that my mind is overcoming things and starting to look at happier aspects.
I figure, if I’m going to talk about the dream and I still remember the dream, I should at least describe it. I tried to do this this morning when i woke up and remembered it better, but for some reason the post to Facebook failed and I lost all that I had typed. Anyways, here goes:
I was walking with someone and we were walking past a porch. On the porch were two close friends (knowing that they were close friends leads me to believe that I knew them). They were both carrying on a conversation and laughing some. One happened to be eating an ice cream cone. As they were talking, they both locked eyes in an overly dramatic and comedic way. After locking eyes, the guy with the ice cream cone started slowly lowering it as though something huge was happening. Whole he was lowering it, the other guy started leaning closer, appearing like he was going to go in for a kiss. He kept leaning, and the ice cream kept lowering, until they were quite close. several inches from what would have been the big moment, they both broke and started laughing at each other, as though it had been some great play for whoever happened to be watching.
However, this wasn’t the truly hysterical part. That was, oddly, only mildly funny. Maybe I had been in on it though or known it was coming, I’m not sure. Then again, I don’t really care if I see two guys make out. It’s about as interesting to me as watching any random couple make out. Anyways, back to the dream.
After the build up and once they had finally stopped laughing some, someone I couldn’t hear must have called out to them from inside wherever the porch was. The leaner turned around to respond to whoever had called out. As he did so, he knocked the ice cream cone out of the hand of the other guy. It just so happens that the other guy had happened to be going in for another lick of the cone, eyes half closed, tongue out, and lips poised to take a soft bite out of the ice cream. Because of their proximity and the ice cream eaters current facial expression, when the leaner knocked the cone out of his hands, his reaction time was too slow to stop his ice cream eating action. This resulted in him licking/kissing the back of the leaner’s neck in what can only be described as the most awkward sensual experience I have ever seen. As soon as it happened, they both shockingly realized what had happened and snapped to and faced each other with the most incredible look of mortification ever, as though even in joking about kissing each other passionately they had never even considered actually doing it and didn’t even want it to happen. As the ice cream hit the floor, they’re eyes flitted around some, trying to determine if anyone had seen them. Of course, I had and I was braying laughter. Laughing so hard, in fact, that it translated into an actual physical laugh that pulled me gently from my sleep.
In the light of the day it may not be so funny, but as I dreamt it I had never seen anything funnier in my life. As said before, I have also never experienced laughing myself awake either, though i take it as a good sign that maybe, just maybe, things really are changing for me.
There was more to the dream as well. I don’t remember much f it, but I do remember there was a love interest. She was just as strange and unique as I was. While it wasn’t a first, it was also one of the few times that the woman in my dream that I was interested in was also interested in me. that actually very rarely happens in my dreams. I’ve actually probably had more dreams where the female interest in my dream outright hated me. Maybe this too is a sign that my mind is changing, finally accepting that there are those out there that would show genuine interest in me.
Another unique part of the dream was that it was a happy dream. Those are very few and far between for me. Generally, the happiest my dreams get is when the tend towards the erotic, but I wouldn’t exactly call those happy dreams. Though there is happiness, they are in a different realm than a truly happy dream. Most often, my dreams tend toward the very surreal, vivid, and dark. Like dreaming of being chased by something, fighting, or even murder on occasion (never committed by me, but it’s there). I don’t remember many happy dreams that I have had. I remember a few times waking up peaceful and assuming I had had a good dream, but I had no proof of it.
In all, this was a wholly unique and wondrous experience for me. It started my day out on a fantastic note that I haven’t had in a long time.
I’ve been mulling over two thoughts today. The first is, where does one find these fabled ‘woman that think intelligence is sexy’? I’ve met all of two in my life, both of them this year. Neither was right for me. Granted, the first one almost took my virginity and the second one did, but still, I’m not actually looking for sex. What I want is a relationship and I know no woman is ever going to look at me and think ‘My god, I need that guy’. I just don’t engender that upon first look. However, I have always known that if the right woman sits down and talks with me, she very well may think ‘My god, I need that guy’. It’s the nature of who I am. I’m not ugly, just big. But being big limits the number of woman that will find me attractive. My intelligence does increase that number some, but it is still limited. I have the personality and intelligence that women want, but not the looks. Though I am working on becoming a smaller version of me, I will never be skinny or ripped. Who I am is a big guy, and that is how I plan to stay. I just don’t want to be this fucking big.
In the end, I know that my intelligence will play a big factor in finding someone, the question I have trouble with is how does that happen? For someone that ironically craves order and sees patterns in everything, it is very difficult to accept that meeting someone will be purely random and by chance. There are ways to skew that random, but it is still random. While I do love random and the non-sequitur, random in aspects of my life like love or day-today things bothers me. I can’t help it. I need some form of structure. I think that may b my biggest issue with wanting someone. I can’t really accept that it boils down to chaos.
This brings me to my next thought of the day. I’ve been talking about wanting and needing someone in my life for a long time, but why? Do I actually need someone in my life? Will it solve all of my problems and make me whole? The hard answer is, No. No, it will not. I do not actually need someone in my life. I’ve made it to 26 without anyone, I clearly know how to live alone. I don’t live as well as I could/should, but I can do it. I don’t need anyone to take care of me (though I did when I checked out of reality). My problems will not go away just because I meet someone either. They are not a cure-all and it would be horribly cruel to treat them as such. I am the only one that can fix myself.
In truth, I do not need someone, I just very much want it. That begs the question though, why do I want it? I can’t really answer that. Part of it is seeing how happy others are in relationships. I don’t think I’ve ever really been all that happy in my life. There are spurts of it, but it has been a very average to below average sort of life. Part of it also that the happiest times I remember are when I had someone I was talking with, though those talks rarely ever led to anything more than talking.
I’ve also put myself through hell by wondering if I would ever meet someone. It has been a central thought of mine since I was 13 or so and all of my friends started dating. The longer I went without having met anyone, the more difficult it became for me. I felt left behind. I felt… broken. Which is asinine. I was not lesser for having gone without. A relationship does not define who you are. You are the only one that can define you. But I have always missed that point. Even those friends that did not have steady partners were still out there hooking up and having sex. That never happened for me either. I was always on the sidelines looking in, waiting to get put in the game. I wasn’t though. While it did take me 26 years, I found quality over quantity. I also found that I am just not made for random hookups. I need something else there if I am going to have sex.
All of this leaves me with much to think about. I don’t think I could swear off the looking and wondering, but I think I can put it to the back burner and stop focusing on it. If it truly is borne of chaos, watching it and fretting over it will do nothing for me. Which means letting go of it for now will help me find peace with who I am and make me more ready for it when it finally comes.
I have far too much that I need to get out. This past weekend has been filled with a need to write. So much so that I feel like I may be writing too much. That’s an asinine thought though. While I am aware that I have people that read this and am aware my rapid fire method of posting may be too much, I can’t really worry about that yet. I love each and every view, comment, like, and subscribe that I get, but this blog is still about me getting stuff out and if that means I have to post 10 times a day, so be it. I apologize if it is too much, but there is much in my mind.
With that, we come back to a most popular subject of mine, love and relationships. Maybe. I feel something here, but I don’t want to force it. There’s something about the subject of not knowing, about how I really have no idea about relationships. Really, I have no fucking clue how one starts. I don’t truly understand the concept of starting it.
No, this is not to be the subject tonight.
This past week and a few days has been unlike any that I have ever had before in my life. I don’t really know what to make of it. I drove to meet a woman. I let myself be vulnerable. I spent time alone with a woman. I lost my virginity. I found that we were just friends. I really felt something for the first time in a lot of years. I totally fucked my diet up.
I, I don’t know.
I did so much. It feels like it has been far more than a week. I’ve written, I’ve drawn, I’ve yet to paint but I do have the canvas prepped. I’ve done so very much. It’s a blur. I’ve even been working. Though I don’t remember much of the working, i know I did my job well.
It will take me more time yet to process it all. That means many more entries here as well. There’s much left to figure out and deal with. In an odd dichotomy, my mind is both more clear and more chaotic than it has ever been before. I’ve gone over and through everything a thousand times and have made progress.
I feel like I’m in a car driving 140 miles per hour. Everything dead ahead of me seems oddly clear, but everything to the sides is whipping by so fast as to be invisible. If I really stop to focus on something as it goes past, I can stay aware of it, but not for long.
I haven’t really done much, yet I’ve done everything. I’ve neglected cleaning my room, I have yet to start the painting I want to do, I haven’t been eating well, and I haven’t hardly gone outside. Yet, I’ve written 9 (including this one) blog entries. I’ve gone to lunch with my best friend and actually discussed real shit. I’ve talked with my mom. talked with my cousin. I drew an image that I lived in a trip a few months back but had been afraid to attempt to draw. I bought new markers, a canvas, an upgrade for the blog. I guess what it boils down to is that I’ve made a lot of big strides mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, but I have yet to see them actually manifest themselves physically. I think that will change though.
Monday I get back to doing my thing to get healthy. I’m also going to try and paint. I’ve had a week now to be within myself, I think now is the time to move without and start to do stuff in the outer world. Maybe I won’t paint tomorrow. I think I’ll clean instead. Get rid of the physical chaos around me. It will be calming and I’ll get to accomplish something. I kind of need to feel like I have accomplished something in the physical realm. Getting my room clean is just a very good place to start. Call it a new beginning of sorts. I’ll give it a good cleaning. Move out some crap I’ve had in here for far too long, clean the floors, just get it all nice and tidy. My asthma and allergies will hate it (allergic to dust mites) but it’ll be good once it’s done.
As a preface, I am nervous writing this blog. I know the other party will read it. However, I have to write it, no matter what. I’ve talked with her about it as I have talked with my closest friends about it, but now I need to put it on here. This is where I am most free. It’s not even that I can’t say this stuff in person, it’s that I have time to think writing it that I do not really get talking. I have better phrasing and expression here, though there will be a certain level of mania in this particular entry.
So, I came home from my trip a couple days early. It was unfortunate, but in order to save myself and the friendship, it had to happen. if I stayed, there was a strong possibility I would force myself into becoming very hurt, which would have destroyed the friendship. I didn’t know why I had to leave at the time. All I really knew is that something was wrong and I had to go. I gave opportunity to say the words that would keep me there, though I didn’t know what they were. In the end, there were no words that could be spoken that would have kept me, but I didn’t know that until later.
I will likely talk about what happened over the weekend more at a later date, but for now, I have to start at the end.
I left less than an hour after we finally slept together, though that was not the reason I left. We had already discussed my leaving the night prior and that morning and she was aware I would be going, but it happened anyways. I had finally lost my virginity. It was fun, but after 26 years, the build up of time had made it impossible to live up to. I learned much from the experience, but I am getting ahead (behind?) of myself.
It took me 400 miles and 7 hours to even start to understand what had happened over the weekend and why I had to leave. In truth, I’m still processing it all. I know the why and the how, but there is still much to analyze. I realized that I had spent the entire weekend denying a part of who I was in order to finally be able to lose my virginity. I learned that one of my base desires is intimacy. I need to touch the person. I need to be able to hold them and kiss them and have them next to me. Really, it should not have been something I was surprised to find. I have always written about wanting those things, but I was not aware that it was so deep that I could not turn it off. Because I was trying to deny it to conform to what she wanted, it was causing a lot of internal strife. It was becoming physically painful to sit near her knowing I couldn’t touch her. It was also detrimental to how I viewed her. It wasn’t really fair to either of us and would end up hurting everything. leaving was the only viable choice. If I had stayed, it may have been okay, but I risked a great deal of pain for myself and destroying a very good friendship that I had and need.
I have to pause. I’m not writing now. This has become an outpouring of my internal dialogue surrounding the issue. I’m still working on it all. I have come to a certain kind peace with it. Part of it does still hurt, but it is not the soul wounding it has been in the past. I did learn much from the trip (more than detailed in the last entry), but… there is still some pain. It was a good trip, and I am happy for it, but now it means I am still looking. Which is a slightly foolish statement. I knew she wasn’t who I was looking for, but that deeper part of me couldn’t accept it until I got there and saw.
On the trip, I had to reconcile who she was with who she had become in my mind, which is never an easy thing. It’s something that shouldn’t happen, but I have spent my entire life within my head. I have lived innumerable lives within my mind. I play everything out, though it never goes as I see. When I had no one, I still had my mind, so I turned there to get through the insufferable loneliness. I’m still learning how to get out of my head so much and just do stuff. It’s not easy when it’s all you’ve really known. I’ve pretty much always been that way. I don’t remember having imaginary friends, but I definitely spent more time inventing stories with toys than playing with other kids.
I know now more than ever that I need to find someone that can share with me the things I need. The subject of codependency came up this weekend. It’s a definite possibility, but I don’t know that it is entirely true. Yes, I do feel like I need someone in my life, but I think it is more than a codependent need. I have always felt that I was not made to be single. I’ve always felt that I need someone in my life. I don’t need her to take care of me and push me, because I can do those things, but I want someone that will. I don’t know, really. I do know I need someone. In spite of the disconnect, I did feel better near someone.
In truth, I have no idea right now. I want to write, and I want to be coherent, but those things can’t mix right now. I’ve gotten lost and diverted so many times tonight that I have no clue if this will make any sort of sense. I’ll post it anyways, because coherent or not, it has been good. In an odd twist, I think I talked this all through in person better than I did writing it, though I did not attempt to go into such depth in person.
This doesn’t feel like the place to stop. So much more wants out. There are things I have yet to cover and things I didn’t intend to cover. I… I do not know. It is all very confusing. I am at a sort of peace with what happened and am glad that it happened, but there are still things I need to suss out. I’m sure they will make up other blogs, there are always other blogs.
Because of the trip, I do feel ready to move onto other things. I am going to try and move back to California. I have no idea when it will be or if that is where I will actually go, but I will leave Oregon. It is too small for me. For now, the thought that I will go is enough. I’ll figure out the rest later.
If you’re alone long enough, it becomes an actual physical pain. At its worst, I could feel the ghosts of past contact falling across my nerves, tripping, teasing, playing. Trying to entice me to remember, but succeeding in naught but reminding me how long it had been. My body needed it, and the more I needed it, the further I withdrew from casual contact. I wouldn’t even hug friends. It was too much. It was like a strip club for your senses; everything was there but the final pay off, and the pay off is all that matters.
Even now, I can remember it. It was crushing. It was painful. It burned and I could not put it out. Truthfully, I don’t even remember the last time I made physical contact where I was neither a friend nor drunk. The few encounters I’ve had over the years have come well into a bottle and couldn’t progress far because of that. The pain is less now because of those few encounters and personal growth, but it is still there. Often times I’ll stay up simply because I loathe the emptiness of my own bed and that it reminds me I am alone and how much it hurts.
I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of writing about it and even more tired of living it. Though I’ve lived it my entire life, I don’t think I was really built for this. I’ve done well enough, I suppose, but I have always been very aware of how alone I was. It’s what keeps me up at night. It’s what I fear most. I still fear seeing 50 having never found someone that cares for me as more than a friend, let alone loves me. I used to think that story ended with a bullet. I don’t anymore, but it’s still a depressing thought. I don’t know how to handle the thought of being alone forever. I try to put it off as much as I can, but in the dark of night, I can’t avoid it.
In truth, I should be excited right now. I have big things looming in my immediate future. Unfortunately, the thoughts don’t always care. They choose when to appear and how to affect me. I just want to be done with loneliness. I’ll love the week I get, but I can still wish for more.
As I write this, I do feel like I’m just indulging myself and doing what I can to make it feel worse. I do still feel alone, and I do hope for the day I am no longer, but it does not hurt as much as it used to. Not by a long shot. If it did, I would probably still be locked in my room avoiding everyone. Just this past weekend, I was out and hanging out with people outside of my normal circle of friends. I still don’t have the courage to openly engage for the sake of moving things forward, but I was able to simply talk rather than sit there and look morose. Things are changing, but there is still the desire to revel in the pain sometimes. That’s not to say it isn’t there, it is, and it still has the potential to crush me, but the weight of it is lifting and doesn’t press as hard as it used to.
I’m very used to the pain. It’s all I knew for a very long time. I wish I could forget it, but I’m not there yet. Though, I think I have talked my way out of it for now.
What do I want out of this life? That’s a question I fear to answer. I’ve run from it for a while now. What I want has rarely been of any consequence to the actions that play out in my life. Things just sort of happen to me and around me, regardless of what I want. That’s not to say good things don’t happen, they do. They just rarely happen at times when I can capitalize on them.
“Right place, wrong time” is something that has always played out majorly in my life. My timing is shit, and it always has been. There that is again, Time. It’s the bane of my existence, but I’ve talked enough on that before. This post is about wanting, so…
What do I want out of this life? Everything. I realize that is no small thing to ask for, but we should all seek everything. Now, the follow up question to that most certainly has to be “What do you expect to get out of this life?” Nothing. If I expect, I get hurt. I’ve learned to expect nothing as those times I asked and expected I was greatly let down. I can’t afford to expect things anymore. I’ve been to the brink of destruction, I’d prefer not to go back.
If I want everything and expect nothing, what’s the point, what do I hope for? There was a time I hoped for marriage, children, a job to support it all comfortably. I suppose that somewhere, deep down, I still do hope for that, but as the years pass it seems ever more unlikely. But, mostly, those hopes were killed. Now, I’d settle for a hand in mine, a look that shows anything but contempt, or, if I’m feeling particularly bold, a hug. I realize how pathetic it sounds, that those are nothing, but when you reach 26 and can count in years between the times you have seen any of those things, they begin to grow and gain meaning. Truthfully, that’s not something I express often. I hide it because I know how stupid it sounds, but while others seek the next random sexual encounter, I just hope I’ll get to sit next to someone or have the slightest of physical contact.
That’s not to say I do not hope for random sexual encounter, but that’s the difference between wanting to drive and wanting to fly to the fucking moon. I am human, I do have compulsions and desires, but if I cut to the absolute heart of it all, it’s those simple things I really need. Those are the thoughts that drive me to seek and those are the things I hope for, that my skin burns for. When it got to it’s darkest and I’d been several years from the last contact, that was what my flesh remembered, the hand in mine, the arms around me and head pressed to my chest.
I suspect there is more in store for me than what I expect or even hope for, but I cannot see it yet. Thus far, more is just a myth people tell me to try and cheer me up. As much as I appreciate the words, I cannot believe in them, not yet. Not when the only thing I have seen is destruction and devastation. Not when the closest I ever came was at 16 and it haunted me until very recently.
So, for now, I try to live my life and put these things to deeper portions of the brain, try to keep the higher processes from taking it and consuming me. In the meantime, I hope for those things mentioned here and, most of all, hope that I am entirely wrong about what I expect, but I have to plan for my expectations and steel myself for the possibility I am right.
Rather than make a new post, I thought I would add to this one.
More than anything else, I want to stop living off the scraps of happiness I am given. I’ve learned to enjoy what little I find and enjoy them for what they are, but I want to find sustainable happiness. I’m tired of having to make do with what is. I want to know what it is to be happy all the time, not just the rare occasions I’ve found. Just once… even if it’s not forever, just once… I used to hope for an hour of it. I realize now that’s not enough, not really. That’s just more of what I’ve had. If I want a change, it’s got to be more than an hour. I don’t know how to seek more than that though. I don’t really know how to seek any of it, not really. I stumble into all that I find and don’t seem to notice it until it is gone. Hopefully the next time I can see it before it is gone.
I can see that things are changing. I can see that things will be happening. I understand this, and am aware of it, but I am tired of waiting for it. How patient does someone have to be? I realize I’ve only really cared for a few short months, but that doesn’t change that I’ve waited for damn near a decade. Though I can see that it will happen, I have no idea if it will be tomorrow or 5 years from now.
How much patience is required? I’ll wait as long as I must, but the waiting is painful. Every day that goes on I feel my loneliness. It compounds. It consumes. It crushes. I have hope that it will leave me, but I cannot escape it. This is one thing I cannot face alone. Not even my friends can help it, not really. They can do much, but they cannot fill the void that craves to feel for another that feels for you. No matter how close you are with your friends, they cannot give you the intimacy that comes of a relationship.
I’m tired of… everything. The waiting. The doubting. The hating. The fear. The pain. Anger. Silence. Sadness. Heartache. Emptiness thinking wondering listlessnessunknowingunendingloneliness. All of it. I want to be truly happy. I don’t want to survive on these small blips of happiness; spread out just close enough for me to live but far enough away that I begin to forget that the others existed as I seek the next one.
Even now, I hope that it is close, but I have never felt further from it.
If it had been my choice, it would’ve been easier, but it wasn’t. I may not have been in the right place for it before, but I don’t understand why that precludes me from having anything. There are plenty of people out there not in the right place for it that seem to get it at will, so why can’t I? I know some people are better at certain things than others. I mean, matters of the mind are simplistic to me, much in the way matters of the heart are easy for others. Wasn’t a fair trade really, the intelligence instead of the whatever the hell it is some people seem to have with finding others. I doubt they even realize that there is more to intelligence than they know, but I am fully cognizant of what I am missing. I think on it every day. It keeps me awake at night. It eats at my soul.
There’s no real ending for this one. There can’t be. Not until I find what it is I seek. Until then, it will cling to everything that I am. I just have to fight it off and keep it from destroying me again, as it did in the past. I am staving it off better than before, but still it whispers to me, letting me know it’s still there.
Bear with me as I try to find my legs with this all again. I’m still quite rusty and only recently back in touch with the urge to write. I may even make up for lost time. I cannot say that there will be cohesion in anything I write, just that it will be a part of me.
One subject that I have always written about is love. Since the first I started really writing, it was love. In all these years, I can’t think of a single time I have written positively about it. It has always been unrequited, lost, or forlorn. I always wanted to write about what it felt like to be in love, but I never knew what it was like. I wanted to write happy love songs, thick enough to make you puke, but I had never had it. I thought I had, but I was the only ever really involved in it. I’ve loved, but I have never been loved. In that, came everything I had written. It was an expulsion of the pain that I felt, the hatred that I held, and the loss I had.
You can see a progression in the writing. As time went on and still I had not found love and I walked into the same traps, the despair grew and the hope waned. When I was young, I thought I would be married and having kids by 20. I had hope that my life would head that way, as it was what I wanted. I always knew I was meant for that sort of thing, it felt right. Even after I had my soul crushed, I still hoped for it, but that hope had started to die. When I met 20 alone, I thought maybe 23. And then that came and went and I was left wondering if it would ever happen. Once that thought caught hold, it kept escalating. Year by year, day by day, hour by hour until I could no longer escape it. Until just the thought of finding someone seemed like an impossibility. At the deepest and darkest, I was wondering what I would do if I saw 40 and was still alone… and it was not good. Bad would be too weak a word. It was tragic. It was too much to handle, it was the end of hope. It was gone for good, and its loss stopped me in my tracks. I gave up on everything and couldn’t move forward and it propelled me further down than I had ever gone before. And I saw no way out. If this is all there was for me, why bother doing anything?
Somewhere, I’m not sure where, deep down in that darkness, a pinpoint of hope managed to penetrate. Maybe it had always been there, but I had never noticed it before. I didn’t really know what to do with it at first. Didn’t even really know what it was at first. Truthfully, I’m not even sure I really know what it is even now. As I write this, the rest flowed, but now I come to a point where all I have is speculation. There is hope now, but it is not all consuming. I still doubt it. I have too much history to truly believe it. But, the hope is there and as I sort my life out and move towards the future and what I feel I am supposed to do, the hope grows. It is slow, but it grows.
I’ve lost my way in this, but such is the path this thread took. I can never predict where these will end and, sometimes, not even where they will start. In truth, this is likely not even done. It is far from polished, but it is as it was released, and I do not think I should change that. Truth be told, I lost my way somewhere in the middle of this and I think it found it’s own path out. I think that as I go on, this will mimic the descent. The beginning will be manic, as the previous ending was, but as time goes on the mania will subside, cohesion will come into it, and the darkness will fade. It will never be fully cohesive though, there is insanity in these waters and I embrace it as a I would a lover.
Something is off today. I can’t figure out what. It actually started as a good day. Went for a walk, talked, listened to music, cooked, cleaned, and accomplished things I needed to get done. Yet still the feeling lingers, that something is off. It has even been a good day at work. By all rights and standards, today should be a good day. But it’s not.
I’m not even sure where to start to try and figure out what’s wrong. Maybe the universe is what’s off. Maybe I’m out of sync with it today. What if it had other plans for me today? I can’t think of what they would have been, but it’s possible. I never felt an urge to be doing something more than what I did, so I’m not sure if that is it.
Or, what if it is my old self wrestling with the new me? I expelled him for good on a trip recently and he hasn’t fought much since then. Maybe he just worked up the courage today. He was always a scared little bastard. It would take him this long to fight back. Though, I suspect this is not the case, the feeling does not go to my soul. It is more in my immediate area, like and unseen force trying to bring something on. What that is, I do not know.
I guess I’ll just have to think on it more. Maybe it will come to me, or maybe it won’t. Either way, I think tomorrow will turn out for the better. Everyday is ordinary, until it isn’t.