I would assume by now that it’s clear. All of my journals have something to do with the way we think. Or perhaps I should say that all of my journals have something to do with the way I think.
But to be clear, my journals are the only way I can talk to you—so, when I say you or we, I suppose I mean us, or me, since all this is “me” in my make believe studio, talking to you, a figment, or a dream, or a sounding board which keeps me sane
(at least a little).
How we think can lead us to how we feel and how we feel can lead us to the brighter side of the dark side of our assumptions. Make no mistake, assumptions can be dangerous.
I know this all too well.
Assumptions can lead us down the rabbit hole and drive us crazy — and I mean literally crazy, which I am crazy, at least to some degree.
Then again, who isn’t?
I have tried to navigate my path from old thoughts or ideas, which did not serve me well, nor has this helped with who I am and how I interact with others. So, I come here.
This is a place that I have built in my head. This is my little studio away from the world, which has changed over the years.
I can say what I want . . .
At least here.
My goal has always been to expose myself or my truths and to allow for a moment of peace.
I want ease. I want to rest.
I want to rid myself of the riots in my head and be free from the expected assumptions that something wrong or bad is about to happen.
And damn you impending doom,
I think that you are the biggest bitch of them all.
I want to make peace with my demons, at least if that’s possible.
I want to reconcile with the angels who I avoided or ran away from.
And I know why.
I ran because their truths were too bright and exposed the darkness of my lies. I ran because purity can sting and so can ideas like true love—assuming true love is real or exists. Thus, I ran because I always assumed that I was never deserving of you or the way you smile and laugh, which is both beautiful and intimidating to me because I never dared to be as brave (as you).
I would run from purity. I would hide from the raw nature of people who would smile or be themselves or be who they are regardless of the crowd, and despite the ideas of social acceptance, I ran from people who were brave enough to say what they thought.
Are you ready for this?
I was always afraid to dance . . .
I was afraid because, what if I dance “wrong” or I look like a fool?
I can say the same thing about laughing. I was afraid to laugh or smile because I was afraid to find out what happens when the joy goes away, or evaporates and there I am, back in the saddle of sad thoughts and lonely ideas.
The rest of the world just goes on about their business.
And me?
I sink or drown into the murk of an emotional quicksand. With all my heart, I wish I can re-litigate or change the past.
But the past is set.
It’s the moment at hand that determines the future.
It’s the here and now.
I do not always like what’s happening “now” but that doesn’t mean a correction can’t be made.
I believe that our identity is everything, at least this is what I have come to learn about myself. Who I am and who I want to be is everything to me. At the same time, I am who I am, and I will always be who I will always be.
Basically, this means I got the job.
I am me. I couldn’t be anyone else.
No matter what.
I don’t need to fit in a mold. I don’t need to impress people.
I don’t need the world to love me or like me,
at least not completely.
I need you though. I really do.
I have grown over the last few years. At the same time, I have reverted back to old and unwanted settings.
I have fears and worries that, somehow, I’m “just” not enough and that despite what I say or do, I will never shake the tales from my past.
This is what brings me here
(to you).
I always lived according to the ideas of “when.”
I’ll feel better when I’m successful.
I’ll feel better when finances are easier.
I’ll feel better when I find my way or when my dreams come true.
Or how about this one –
I’ll feel better once everything calms down.
I have come to learn that while I do agree that timing is everything, I also agree that timing means nothing.
Timing also means that it’s time to move.
And I mean this in many ways. I mean this with all of my heart too.
I mean this when it comes to work.
It’s time.
I mean this when it comes to my mental health. And I mean this when it comes to love and relationships.
It’s time.
Nothing changes if nothing changes. If we do nothing, then nothing happens.
Or if something does happen, and we’ve done nothing to offer our input, then we often lose the right to say what happens next—unless we are lucky.
But luck like this is rare.
I will feel better when I’m successful.
I have said this often.
Okay.
But what does success mean?
Isn’t it a success to get out of bed in the morning?
Isn’t it successful to see how far we’ve come?
And I get it. There are times when our efforts are pointless or even meaningless.
I get that dreams can be evasive. And the same can be said about love. The same can be said about true happiness. The same thing can be said about the job we want or the life we want to live.
I find myself here at an impasse. I am certainly better now than I was at different times in my life.
I am a person who has challenges with anxiety, as in social anxiety and anticipatory anxiety.
I am a person who loses to poor assumptions that tend to mutate and amplify and deform into some demented catastrophe.
I admit to this.
I am someone who has lived with internal doubt and shame for as long as I can remember.
I am also a survivor.
I have survived bad things. I have lived through hard times.
I am someone who lived with the idea that something was always inherently wrong with me and that I (as I am) would never be good enough or smart enough and that somehow, everyone who knew me would see this—and me?
I assumed I would always be a disappointment.
I always assumed that I was the last one to get the joke.
Either that, or the joke was on me
or maybe I was the joke and that’s why everyone was laughing.
I have spoken with people about their insecurity.
I have listened to people tell me about how they criticize themselves and literally butcher themselves under their own microscope. I have had long discussions with people who live with medicated resistant depression to see who else is out there and if anyone else understands.
I remember an old friend once told me, “people need to learn how to be their own best friend.”
He said this to me and then chose not to be my friend shortly after, which was ironic in some regards. But at the same time — I understand this now. I also understand that this has nothing to do with me.
I realized that we were not meant to be friends before this happened. But when a personal change occurred, this person made their choice.
Was I hurt?
At first, maybe.
Then I started to think about this.
I knew that I disagreed with him. I knew that we were not two people who should be friend s anymore.
I didn’t like his way of thinking. I didn’t like his arrogance. And I didn’t like his highbrow way of talking to people.
So, in fairness, did I really lose a friend?
No.
My focus was on the rejection, not the friendship.
This is as if to say, it’s okay for me to walk away on my terms.
But I don’t like it when someone walks away from me.
Ironic . . .no?
This is a level of rejection sensitivity which has never been helpful to me.
Nor has this been healthy.
I hate rejection.
I hate the idea that someone thinks I’m not enough. I hate the idea of believing that I am flawed, which I am. But so is everyone else.
I can’t stand the idea that I am not enough for someone.
I hate the thought that I was not “chosen” or picked, and I hate the fact that I have kept myself in this mindset for so long and wasted so many years looking for acceptance and attention.
I assume honesty like this is rare.
But I’m okay here.
I’m safe and protected.
So—
When is it my turn?
I love this question because this can be attributed to anything.
When is it my turn to be happy?
When is it my turn to say, “to hell with timing,” and when it my turn to make something happen now?
The worst of my thinking had me assume that I was too weak or to flawed. But worst of all, I was always afraid to try and afraid to enjoy because I was afraid that true happiness or success is only temporary.
I have discussed this with others who live with depression. And there was something relatable about this.
But I never asked to be labeled or to live with depression.
Worse, I was always afraid to find out that I would never be anything but a disappointment, or that I was a black mark. “Oh, there goes Ben again. Fucking up, as usual.”
I always believed that something about me was too challenged. No matter what I did or how I tried to convince myself of something, my beliefs were that I would always come up short.
I would never have the life I wanted or the love I wanted, and that despite how close I’ve come, I would always come up short, as if to say, “nice try kid.”
Better luck next time.
I was told about a quote that makes sense to me.
And this is a good one.
There are other people who are credited for this quote, so I don’t want to get this wrong
But I think the quote comes from Dr. Derwin L Gray:
“If you never heal from what hurt you, you’ll bleed on the people who didn’t cut you.”
This is what leads me here today.
I’m not here just to heal and not just to recognize the people who I bled on or hurt as a result, even though they had nothing to do with what cut me and they were innocent of any harm.
But also, I come here to say that I can’t sit around and wait for the time to come when happiness will be at my door.
It’s time.
I don’t sleep much.
I never did.
But I’ll tell you this –
When the time comes and I make my dream match my reality, I swear, I’ll sleep like a baby.
The Written Addiction 