Random, Aimless and Unplanned – Something From The Gut

I call this journal Random, Aimless and Unplanned because I have no agenda. I just write what’s on my mind or from the gut, so they say.
My entries are more of a subconscious flow. This means I’m not thinking about what I’m saying. I’m not worrying about the critics or their meaningless opinions or am I thinking about the judges, who have no right to judge, or the people who throw stones in glass houses and wonder about the draft.

I have nothing to prove to anyone, least of all anyone who looks to criticize or compare me to others. Rather than suffer from intimidation or let my words become muffled by intimidation, I come here to let myself go.

This is my spot. No one has to be here but us, of course.
And you?
I don’t know where I would be without you.
I don’t know who would care like you do.
I don’t know what this place of mine would look like if you weren’t here for me to send this to.

It is clear to me that everyone has “their own shit” to deal with.
I have mine.
You have yours, like you’ve told me before.
Right?
We all have similarities and differences.
I suppose I’m looking to expose this to create a sense of common ground or to remove the arrogance from my tone. Before I allow pride or ego to steal my soul, I choose to come here and open up like this to you because, in all fairness, I know that I’d be crazy without you.

I have my shit.
I have pain and a past and regrets.
I have plenty. But as for the past, I have a few ideas that are coming to mind.

All the mind wants is peace, am I right?
No one wants to hurt or suffer.
Nobody asks for pain, at least not really.
At the same time, we sometimes sign up for pain and we can become self-destructive.
I wonder though . . .
I am thinking . . .
I don’t know if we ever “get over” something.
Do we?

We never forget. We might to some degree,
but the mind remembers what happened to us.
We never forget what pain feels like.

At some point, I know that everyone hears somebody tell them, “you have to get over it,” or “you just have to move on,” which we do, inevitably. I’m not sure if there’s something pivotal or there’s some kind of catalyst for a change—or maybe circumstances and our intentions change and as we move away or as the days add up and then times seems to multiply, perhaps we look back at what happened with a different mindset. Maybe we see things from a different point of view.

Maybe our understanding changes and quite possibly, maybe we see ourselves as more worthy, than an old memory that no longer holds true for us.
Maybe we forget that oftentimes, the first person who we need to forgive is ourself.

But pain?
Pain is real.
The mind never forgets pain or what caused it.
However, time does heal or if anything, time can at least start the process of healing.
Perhaps the further we move away from the pain or the more that time passes from when we were hurt or heartbroken—maybe, it’s just a case of incidents and accidents and at some point, we come to a conclusion that yes, that was then and this is now.
We don’t have to always hold ourselves accountable for old remnants that no longer exist.

Perhaps, no one really gets over something.
We just move on. We go away.
We head out in a new direction and if anything, I think actions take place, and action replaces thinking. Essentially, we come to the realization that we are not the same, or if anything, maybe the person, place or thing that hurt us was never even real.
Maybe our heads play games with us.

I can say that we stay mad at ourselves longer than we stay mad at others.
I can say that I have been mad because of the times when I volunteered for the pain.
Yes, I said volunteered, if you know what I mean.

There is something which I believe with all of my heart—most often, there are no victims in life. There are only volunteers.
I know this is true in my case.
I know because, think about it . . .
How many times did we ignore the red flags and the warning signs, when we knew deep down that we were about to be hurt by someone.
We knew that the ending was going to hurt. But yet, we turned a blind eye because we liked the fantasy, or the dream, or the idea that maybe we can pull this off—and just be happy.
 
I can see why we do this too.
Maybe it’s better to believe the lies and maybe it’s often better to believe in the fantasy than to believe in the truth.

There are time when I needed to be happy more than I needed to be right.
Understand?
There are fights that were created by me which never had to happen.
Know what I mean?

Maybe we always knew the truth, and still, we hoped and we wished and we wanted and we prayed because somehow, we assumed that the failure or the rejection of failure would be too insurmountable to think about.
So, instead, we closed our eyes to the obvious.
We invested more instead of removing ourselves from the equation because (maybe) we assumed quitting was part of our failure.
Maybe we thought that despite what was said, all the love and promises were really just words with nothing behind them—nothing at all, just empty, and vacant. So, the words are all gone now, or disappeared like unwanted vapor from the ass-end of the world, which we call life.

Maybe this hurts.
But, such is life.
Maybe the hardest reality we need to get over isn’t the rejection or the intrusion of someone (or something) else but more, it’s that we subjected ourselves and volunteered for the pain, or that we never held to our guns, so-to-speak, or that we never honored our truth, and so, we subjected ourselves to a lie or to a fantasy that was either never true to begin with or never possible.

Do we ever get over pain?
I assume the answer is yes.
Does this take time?
My answer is, of course.

I believe that a time comes when the ideas or the subjects that used to make us wince with pain, or when the topics of a sore subject or when a past injustice comes to mind, our chemistry remembers what took place.
Distance is our friend, in this case.

I think about the time a friend of mine took me to a rifle range to learn and shoot a high-powered rifle at a long-range target. I never shot a gun like this before.
No, this was my first time.
I tried to shoulder the rifle properly and make my grips the way they’re supposed to be.
I tried . . .
But I never expected the kickback to be what it was, which was powerful to say the least—and BAM!
The scope at the top of the rifle shot back and hit me right in the face.
And yes . . . it hurt!
A LOT!

I learned from my mistake. But I also noticed something about myself.
My next shot was cautious of the same thing happening.
I was afraid to be hurt again.
I found myself flinching, each time I went to squeeze the trigger.
I noticed that I was doing this which caused me to be less-accurate.
I had to reset and breathe each time I’d go to shoot.

I think about this lesson from time to time.
All the brain wants is peace. All the brain wants is to be free from pain or burden and free from discomfort. This is true, regardless of whether the pain is emotional or physical.

The mind remembers what happened and to be safe, the mind prepares itself to keep the same thing from happening again.
This sets up a bias, as if to mean that all things that happened before will inevitably happen again.
Understand?

I learned how to shoot long range targets from a bench this way. The learning came with a value and a price. I learned that I had to shoulder the rifle properly.
I also learned what happens if I don’t shoulder the rifle properly.
I saw how my body tensed up or flinched with anticipation.
See?
The mind wants peace and to be pain free.
Me too.
But pain is part of life, which means that there are times when we have to beware, and there are times when we have to be cautious.
I get that . . .
I’m sure you do too.
But that flinch or that subconscious worry . . .
This is the mind’s bias which expects the pain to come, no matter what. Hence, we flinch with anticipation.

I used to flinch when I’d shoot until I learned to find comfort in my ability.
I suppose distance from the pain was my friend with this one too.
Come to think of it –
I used to hold on to resentments and pain to keep myself safe—or to prevent the pain from happening again—so, in a sense, I can see how my past has caused me to flinch or to anticipate the worst. Even more, I can see how my biases caused me to assume the worst, all the time, or how my assumptions led me to self-fulfilling prophecies.

By the way . . .
I learned to shoot pretty well.
I never forgot the pain that happened when I was hit in the face but, as time passed, I learned to accept what happened and rather than anticipate the worst, I was able to grow into a new thought pattern—and find confidence in my efforts, which means that eventually, I improved.

It’s funny . . .
I have talked about this more times than I can count, but . . .
I used to be petrified of people from my childhood. I still relate to this fear as an old intimidation.
I’m always afraid to hear what they may or may not remember or how they may or may not have seen me.

I have always had educational and social fears and intimidations, especially when talking to people with higher educations or when people seem more successful.
I’ve always been socially uncomfortable in groups and with public speaking.
At the same time, I understand how this makes little to no sense because I am someone who does public speaking—but that doesn’t mean my fears are gone or that my flinches have gone away.

I work on myself every day.
Perhaps I am not up to someone else’s standards. And that’s fine. If anything, my aim is to be a little bit better than I was yesterday—and to keep this in motion, I aim to do this a little bit each day.

Does time heal all wounds?
I’m not sure.
The mind remembers pain.
The mind wants peace.
I do too.

Perhaps as time goes by, or as I train myself (like I did when I was training to shoot a high-powered rifle) I will find that the pain fades and the scars can remind me, but I do heal to the point where the pain or the discomfort is not as bad or the threat is gone.

Someday, my aim is to be able to live without flinching and to walk without worry.

There are signs of this coming to me now, like, take for example, when standing on the bow of a fishing boat and letting the wind blow across me while balancing myself as the bow cuts through the waves.

Did I tell you how I’m looking forward to an offshore fishing trip?
Out in the deep—where there’s nothing but ocean and the sky above.
I can’t wait . . .

I’m coming to see you, Pop.
I have some things I’d like to tell you about so . . .
watch over me if you can.
I don’t want to flinch anymore.