Aside from knowing what I see, I don’t know what life is like through somebody else’s eyes. I don’t know what love is like to anyone else. I don’t know what it’s like to feel the sensation of touch through someone else’s skin.
But I’d like to.
I’d like to understand but, at the same time, all I can do is ask. All I can do is listen and try to relate; but still, all I’ll ever know is my perception.
I don’t know what the color blue looks like to you or red or green. If I’m being honest, I don’t know much. I know what I see. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been hearing people tell me, “Never believe what you read and only half of what you see.”
I’ve seen a lot in my life.
Then again, maybe what I see is more a product of my mind.
Either way –
I know what I think and feel.
I know that the concepts of my mind can either be misled or misleading and that in this life, situations are not always the same.
For example, I have a past history and you have one too;
but the two are separate. I have nothing to do with what happened to you before you met me and you have nothing to do with what happened before I met you.
I say this and laugh because we have these old lessons that lead us to assumptions.
Hence, this is where the trouble with our math begins
Our mind is always adding and subtracting. We’re always calculating data; we’re always thinking, always looking to maneuver to the safest port in the storm. Sometimes we multiply our thinking which leads us to a division of self; in which case, we divide and conquer our own best hopes.
I swear this is what I believe – we meet people at specific moments in time; that fate has a very special plan and that when the moments come, life happens. That’s when you’re like, “Ah, that’s why I went through so much to get here.”
This does not simplify or numb the pain from our past.
But still, life has a way of unfolding to us.
I have heard people say, “I didn’t come this far just to get this far.”
I think I like that saying.
I think this reminds me that there’s something brewing inside me; that this is life; this is my drive and my stamina. But more, this is part of the active ingredients which I need to keep me going, just one more day – just so I can survive and give it one more shot tomorrow.
I know that when all is down and out and when nothing seems promising; or if the powers that be seem to be the powers against me; I have to find something to motivate me otherwise it’s too easy to give in to the murky waters of doubt and self-pity.
It’s too easy to slip into the emotional quicksand – so, in an effort to save me from myself – I have to find something.
I have to find a branch. I have to have something to hold onto and keep myself afloat.
I can’t kick or swim myself out of the muck. No, that doesn’t seem to work with quicksand.
I have to get out of this, not fight it. But, I admit that getting out of this is a trick in and of itself.
However, the alternative is lifeless and bland.
And me, I don’t like bland . . .
I have to find things. I have to see things that represent life. Otherwise, I get lost in the thoughts that sink my heart.
I know what the sunrise looks like to me. I know what the ocean feels like when the spray hits my face and I can almost taste the salt in the air.
I know what the sunset looks like when the sky takes on the shades of focal orange. I like it this way too.
The horizon is beaming, like a belt around the world with a purple hue and the clouds appear to be silvery before slipping into nothingness.
Like I said, I don’t know much about anything that goes on beyond my reach. I don’t know what inspires other people. I don’t know how anyone else gets through the day.
I know that our thinking can be directional. I also know that the products of our thinking can set the stage for our emotional aftermath.
In my case, I have thought myself into worries and in the anticipation of something about to go wrong, I have thought myself into bouts with anxiety.
I have thought myself into preemptive strikes. I’ve said things out of emotion that I later regretted. I painted myself into corners. I’ve set the stage for my self-fulfilled failures. All of this was a product of my thinking.
I started this journal because it is time sensitive. I started this because I wanted to open-up, right here, and be as honest as I can be (with you and me). This way, I can understand more about the things I’ve said or done.
I can see my history and I can learn from this. So rather than have my history repeat itself, I can learn and never have to deal with my old discomforts again.
I come back to those two words: Never again.
I must have said this to myself at least a thousand times (or more) and at the same time, never must not be very long because somehow I found myself contending with the same fears and the same concerns.
I found myself thinking the same old things because I linked one past event to an upcoming event.
I see this now.
I see the damages that come with assumptions and the projections from my concerns. I see how this has sabotaged opportunities for me.
I see how this damaged new chances for me to reach new levels and explore new heights.
I can see how my thinking was counterproductive to my best quality of life. Yet, the question here is the same. Why?
What the hell was I thinking?
Why do we have these biases?
Why do we find ourselves in the same cognitive loops when, in fact, we say “Never again.” It’s like I mentioned before, I suppose never must not be very long because here we are again, back in the saddle again . . .
We often find ourselves caught in a loop where our thinking drags us back into the confines of the mind. This cripples us from being at our best. Here’s the trip about all of this: We know this. Intellectually, we know all about this. Emotionally though, we’re just a kid who’s afraid they won’t get their cookie.
I am this person. I am not better or worse. To be clear, I have all of this in my head. I am aware of this. I know that assumptions are not fact. I know that thoughts and opinions are not facts. Neither are feelings.
I know this the same as I know where I am right now.
But the mind is opened to tricks. The mind can be fascinated by smoke and mirrors. And us, well, we tend to give into the flashy pictures that spin on our mind which either mislead us or can be misleading enough to come to a conclusion that might not be so.
As for now, I write this to you in the middle of too many changes. I write this to you in the midst of work changes and life changes. I write this with a headache (because again, I’m human). As I sift through this moment in time, I write this to you with the same cognitive fear. And yes, I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that everything I’ve tried to pull off will fall apart right in front of me. I’m afraid of the ideas that come with imposter syndrome. I am afraid that the curtains will pull open and then – it’s like being caught trying to work the scene and in my exposure, my biggest fear is the public shame and the humiliation of being exposed as a fool.
Do you know what this is called?
This is called honesty.
I have worked for so long and, at the same time, I often forget the very first words I wrote when I began my journals…
“My redemption has nothing to do with your response.”
The other day someone asked me if I could go and work someplace else.
Could I just pick up and go? Could I do the same thing but at a different location?
Could I deal with being the new guy again?
Could I deal with the introduction to another place with new politics?
Could I deal with a new boss? Could I handle the loss of my seniority?
Would I be humbled and comfortable being at the lower rung on a team where I’m more of a backup than a starter?
The truth is, I don’t know the answer.
I don’t know much more than this; right now, the sun is up. The morning is pretty. I have this thing I do on Sunday mornings called Breakfast with Benny.
I sit in a room with other people who are looking for a way to hit the reset button so that they can be ready for the upcoming week ahead.
Other than this journal and you and this place which I’ve built with sticks and twigs from the branches of my dreams, I might not have much and I might not know much either. However, I do know this – I couldn’t live without what I have. I wouldn’t want to either.
I never know who reads these things anyway. I’m not sure if what I say is relatable or if anyone even cares. I suppose this makes me no different from any other writer (or artist) in the world.
Reactive thinking . . .That’s what this is all about.
Reacting to ideas and thoughts and feelings.
So, what the hell am I thinking now?
I’m thinking these journals are what helps me.
I’m thinking that none of them exist without you because without you, it’s like a tree falling in the woods – does it make a sound? If it does, what good is a sound if no one is around to hear it.
So I come here with hopes that you can hear me . . .
. . . because this is the sound of my voice.
The Written Addiction 