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idontknowwhatimdoing
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Speaking from a LIFETIME of experience. From the youngest age I was filled with stress and nervousness. In grade school, like 8 or 9 y/o, I would chew my finger nails completely off, leaving puss oozing sores in their place. Parents reaction was to saturate my hands with capsicum oil so it burned and hurt if they went in my mouth. Not one thought about WHY does such a young child display such nervous behavior? I was socially "awkward", didn't understand people or what I was supposed to say or do, still am. Alcohol started around 12, cannabis 14. LSD, cocaine, PCP, pharmaceuticals of any sort by 16. I was able to at least see the horrible impact those had on my life, mostly from the perspective of the horrible people I surrounded myself with. Many of which died from suicide, violence, drunken or high mishaps. People who were rapists and thieves and bullies and lying manipulators. That wasn't me, but they were more tolerant of my behavior as well, and the no questions asked comradery was a comfort for a while. But friends are something I have never been able to maintain. Meaningful relationships I can count on one hand, with fingers to spare. I have always been obsessive, avoidant, manic, emotionally extreme, intensely introverted. And unable to reign any of that in. A slave to it. It has just been normal for me, never thought about it, just kept being swept along by it, an observer to my own life, never much of a hand on the rudder. I've had periods of relative stability, where my swings were much less impactful in degree and consequence, but the underlying behavior never changed - obsessive, avoidant. Suicidal thoughts have been a constant, but intermittent, plague.
So, after that rosy picture... I found that I never really knew who I was, as absurd as that is. So, eventually, around age 50, I started to ponder that. A brutally honest introspection. It wasn't pretty and really didn't help. Seeing how life had been wasted on me, all the wonderful people I avoided who could have added so much more joy and meaning to my life. The negative impact it had on my son, who I raised by myself from his birth because mom was actually worse off than me. But it was necessary, I had to see what I was, no excuses or apologies, in all it's ugliness. It was a mental rock bottom. But then, once I was able to see clearly my dysfunction, I was able to make baby, babybabybaby steps towards meaningful stabilization. It takes GARGANTUAN effort to try and maintain stability and not be an unwilling slave to my own mind, but that is the reality. And I found that most people, even those suffering under their own yokes of mental illness, are of no comfort. People mean well, sincerely and lovingly, but their advice only reinforces in my mind what a useless waste of space and time I am. You need to find a hobby, find some meaning, find some friends. Quit being lazy, get out more, pray about it. Golly! None of that ever crossed my mind! Oh wait, all of that crossed my mind, all of that I pursued and failed miserably at. Thanks for reinforcing how weak and stupid I am. My problems are internal, an external change doesn't mean shit. So I began pursuing help. A psychiatrist is a great start. And not some remote or tele-help bullshit. They need to see you in person. A good psychiatrist, not a psychologist, learns more from observation, demeanor and behavior than the words we say in our lost states. Unlike psychologists, they can order appropriate medical testing to see what, if any, biological factors can be determined. They can prescribe medication based on those possible tests and time spent in conversation and observation. It's a start! Even though I was still just treading water, I wasn't getting pushed under by the waves as often. My wits were a little more about me. So now I can begin more baby steps towards mindfulness. Being aware of triggers and responses. And the effort still seems overwhelming at times, but when I maintain that mindfulness, that effort, I get results. Baby, babybabybaby results, but what is the other option? Find that cliff to fall off of? Put a gun in my mouth? OD? As long as I am alive, I need to choose to actually LIVE. just being alive isn't enough. And just living for others isn't enough. This is MY life, I have to suffer the consequences, **** everyone else. Seriously. I have to be completely selfish so I can see who and what I am so that I can know where I have to change, or at least focus on and work towards change. I'll never be "normal", but I can be content, even happy! So medication, the right medication for my malfunction, gives me some breathing room. I can be aware of my wandering, undisciplined mind and take steps to reign it in. For instance, at night when I lay down and my mind becomes this palpable physical space and force I get trapped in with uncontrollably wandering thoughts, I just repeat a mantra, each word in tune with a breath. Controlled breath in, word "time", controlled breath out, word "for", controlled breath in, word "sleep". Time, for, sleep. Breathe in. Breathe out. Quiet the mind. Get obsessive over something? Like - that potable water bladder I want for the truck is 8" when full, so of course I HAVE to fill it to 8" full. Otherwise it's useless! I can't just fill it to the level that works, it says 8" when full! I've got to fill it full! Breathe, Jason. What does that add to your quality of life to obsess like that? Does it make you happier? Does your life seem smoother? No? Okay then, breathe. The goal is not to obsessively adhere to some arbitrary parameters, but to get the results I need to function as needed. I don't HAVE to go full 8, I can buy one or two more, fill to the level that fits under my platform, and function! Have water for a month in the truck stored in such a way that my overall organization benefits.
It takes so much effort, but it gets easier. I just have to find myself, understand my malfunction, and try to mitigate it. Because their is no cure. This is what I am. But I can be happy.
Live, don't accept just being alive. Do whatever it takes.
My son has been helpful too. Like his father and mother, he has his own crazy as well. He says when it washes over him he doesn't fight it, he lets it. He accepts that it's happening but gives it no thought, he just sits quietly in it and waits for it to pass. Fighting it, giving it power by thinking about it, doesn't work for him. It's going to happen, so he lets it, gives in to it quietly and submissively, and that actually helps. It removes the conflict. Like completely ignoring that bully who wants to push and goad. They get bored of the lack of response, they don't get fed, so they look elsewhere. He also does this Wim Hoff method stuff. The "Ice Man". He says he has benefitted greatly from it. It helps keep him mindful and more in control of his body and emotions. There's a learning curve to any mindfulness techniques, and discipline which can be a huge hurdle, but consistency and discipline can win the day and begin producing positive results. Which can get easier, become ingrained habits, and create stability. Happiness even! But my trap has always been once I get even some minor relief I stop what it was that got me there. Diligence is key.
I do not pretend to have many, if any, answers or good advice. We're all different and have our own reasons for our dysfunctions. Find yours, no matter how overwhelming and daunting it seems. Find some joy, some stability, whatever and however it takes. Life is too long to spend letting our own minds beat us down.
So, after that rosy picture... I found that I never really knew who I was, as absurd as that is. So, eventually, around age 50, I started to ponder that. A brutally honest introspection. It wasn't pretty and really didn't help. Seeing how life had been wasted on me, all the wonderful people I avoided who could have added so much more joy and meaning to my life. The negative impact it had on my son, who I raised by myself from his birth because mom was actually worse off than me. But it was necessary, I had to see what I was, no excuses or apologies, in all it's ugliness. It was a mental rock bottom. But then, once I was able to see clearly my dysfunction, I was able to make baby, babybabybaby steps towards meaningful stabilization. It takes GARGANTUAN effort to try and maintain stability and not be an unwilling slave to my own mind, but that is the reality. And I found that most people, even those suffering under their own yokes of mental illness, are of no comfort. People mean well, sincerely and lovingly, but their advice only reinforces in my mind what a useless waste of space and time I am. You need to find a hobby, find some meaning, find some friends. Quit being lazy, get out more, pray about it. Golly! None of that ever crossed my mind! Oh wait, all of that crossed my mind, all of that I pursued and failed miserably at. Thanks for reinforcing how weak and stupid I am. My problems are internal, an external change doesn't mean shit. So I began pursuing help. A psychiatrist is a great start. And not some remote or tele-help bullshit. They need to see you in person. A good psychiatrist, not a psychologist, learns more from observation, demeanor and behavior than the words we say in our lost states. Unlike psychologists, they can order appropriate medical testing to see what, if any, biological factors can be determined. They can prescribe medication based on those possible tests and time spent in conversation and observation. It's a start! Even though I was still just treading water, I wasn't getting pushed under by the waves as often. My wits were a little more about me. So now I can begin more baby steps towards mindfulness. Being aware of triggers and responses. And the effort still seems overwhelming at times, but when I maintain that mindfulness, that effort, I get results. Baby, babybabybaby results, but what is the other option? Find that cliff to fall off of? Put a gun in my mouth? OD? As long as I am alive, I need to choose to actually LIVE. just being alive isn't enough. And just living for others isn't enough. This is MY life, I have to suffer the consequences, **** everyone else. Seriously. I have to be completely selfish so I can see who and what I am so that I can know where I have to change, or at least focus on and work towards change. I'll never be "normal", but I can be content, even happy! So medication, the right medication for my malfunction, gives me some breathing room. I can be aware of my wandering, undisciplined mind and take steps to reign it in. For instance, at night when I lay down and my mind becomes this palpable physical space and force I get trapped in with uncontrollably wandering thoughts, I just repeat a mantra, each word in tune with a breath. Controlled breath in, word "time", controlled breath out, word "for", controlled breath in, word "sleep". Time, for, sleep. Breathe in. Breathe out. Quiet the mind. Get obsessive over something? Like - that potable water bladder I want for the truck is 8" when full, so of course I HAVE to fill it to 8" full. Otherwise it's useless! I can't just fill it to the level that works, it says 8" when full! I've got to fill it full! Breathe, Jason. What does that add to your quality of life to obsess like that? Does it make you happier? Does your life seem smoother? No? Okay then, breathe. The goal is not to obsessively adhere to some arbitrary parameters, but to get the results I need to function as needed. I don't HAVE to go full 8, I can buy one or two more, fill to the level that fits under my platform, and function! Have water for a month in the truck stored in such a way that my overall organization benefits.
It takes so much effort, but it gets easier. I just have to find myself, understand my malfunction, and try to mitigate it. Because their is no cure. This is what I am. But I can be happy.
Live, don't accept just being alive. Do whatever it takes.
My son has been helpful too. Like his father and mother, he has his own crazy as well. He says when it washes over him he doesn't fight it, he lets it. He accepts that it's happening but gives it no thought, he just sits quietly in it and waits for it to pass. Fighting it, giving it power by thinking about it, doesn't work for him. It's going to happen, so he lets it, gives in to it quietly and submissively, and that actually helps. It removes the conflict. Like completely ignoring that bully who wants to push and goad. They get bored of the lack of response, they don't get fed, so they look elsewhere. He also does this Wim Hoff method stuff. The "Ice Man". He says he has benefitted greatly from it. It helps keep him mindful and more in control of his body and emotions. There's a learning curve to any mindfulness techniques, and discipline which can be a huge hurdle, but consistency and discipline can win the day and begin producing positive results. Which can get easier, become ingrained habits, and create stability. Happiness even! But my trap has always been once I get even some minor relief I stop what it was that got me there. Diligence is key.
I do not pretend to have many, if any, answers or good advice. We're all different and have our own reasons for our dysfunctions. Find yours, no matter how overwhelming and daunting it seems. Find some joy, some stability, whatever and however it takes. Life is too long to spend letting our own minds beat us down.
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