Further Results...

Well, this is getting downright disappointing.  Last night, things got even worse.  I'm beginning to feel down about this whole thing.  I'm honestly not sure what to do at this point.

Yesterday afternoon, I started to feel restless and anxious.  I couldn't pinpoint why, exactly.  But that's not entirely unusual for me.  What was unusual, was that the feeling steadily grew as the day went on.  And then I started to get upset.  Just feeling really down, really unhappy.  Again, no apparent cause for this emotional state, and again, it grew steadily.  By the time I got home from work, I felt like complete shit.  I was really depressed, and really unhappy, about nothing in particular, and everything in general.

And I could discern this strange disconnect between my emotional state and the rest of my perception.  For instance, something unpleasant would happen, and my mental response would be, "Oh, well," while my emotional response would be, "Oh, gods, WHY??"  And I would wonder, why did that emotional response pair with that mental response?  They don't fit together.  And of the two of them, the mental response seemed a more appropriate and accurate reflection of the event that triggered it; the emotional response seems over-the-top and uncalled for.  And that kind of thing kept happening over and over again.

Eventually I began to realize that one of my worst fears about this experiment seemed to be coming to pass.  I was clearly depressed, that much was obvious.  And it seemed likely that this was another of those backlash chemical depressions that have followed any and every intoxication I've experienced this past year.

Only one way to be sure.  Have to test the theory.  I hadn't been planning to drink last night, because I didn't want to immediately start off drinking every day again.  My plan is not to have a drink unless there's a good reason.  (And neither "it's Thursday night" nor "I just got home from work" qualify as good reasons to drink.)  But if I had a drink, and the depression and anxiety went away, then I would know that it was definitely chemical withdrawal that caused it.

So I had a shot of tequila.  And immediately felt that dizzy sickness again.  And then I started to feel better.

A little while later, I had another shot.  And then I felt perfectly normal.  No depression, no anxiety.  Nice and relaxed.

So, now I know.  On top of no longer being able to enjoy it the way that I used to, the way that I would like to, I will also have to deal with the fact that any time I take a drink, I am then going to have to deal with a deep depression, for which the only cures are to either let it run its course, however long it takes (days, weeks, months - I've experienced all of those at various points this past year), or to have another drink.

To say that I am discouraged by these findings would be rather an understatement.

Preliminary Results...

Okay, that was not at all what I expected.

I didn't actually know what to expect, exactly, but I had some ideas that seemed plausible and/or probable.  But what actually happened was something I had never even thought of.

For starters, it was a lot harder to actually do than I thought it would be.  Holding a bottle of beer in my hand for the first time in a year, I was surprised by how difficult it was to make myself take a drink.  I assumed I would be jumping right into that bottle.  But I'd been entirely focused on not drinking for an entire year of my life.  And knowing that as soon as I took that first sip, all of that was done, over, finished, made it difficult to do.  I had to intentionally and purposefully bring to an end something that I had invested a lot of time and energy into.  And I had a lot of mixed feelings about that.  It wasn't all happiness and "yeah, I did it!"  It was a lot more "I can't believe it's over" and "am I sure about this?"  It was very strange.  And, as I said, unexpected.

Also unexpected was the degree to which my tolerance has tanked.  I knew that my tolerance would be significantly lower than it was a year ago, but I don't think my tolerance has ever been as low as it is right now.  I was noticeably altered from a half of a beer.  And not just a little bit, either.  It was almost overwhelming.  From a half of a beer.

But the worst thing - and I really never, ever saw this coming - was that I didn't actually enjoy it.  Any of it.  I couldn't find any of the sensations I used to enjoy about it.  It was a wholly different experience now, and I didn't like it.  I just felt dizzy and nauseated.  None of the happiness or relaxation that I've come to expect from alcohol.

I was prepared for the possibility of liking it too much.  It never occurred to me that I might not like it at all.  And I'm finding myself really upset about that.  I liked enjoying alcohol.  And all I wanted to do here was try and learn how to enjoy it in a responsible way.  I never would've done this if I'd known that it was going to completely eliminate my ability to enjoy it at all.

All I wanted to do was try and learn how to drink in moderation.  Not become someone who can't drink, and doesn't want to.

Now what?

Three-hundred Fifty-one...

Only two weeks left.

Two weeks from today, I will drink a beer.  A Guinness.  In a bottle.  And then I will have a glass of whiskey.  Eagle Rare bourbon, my favorite.  On the rocks, in my favorite glass tumbler.  And who knows what else after that.

I can't tell what I'm feeling.  Something like excitement, but not quite.  Almost anxiety, but not exactly.  Anticipation?  Fear?  Some jumbled soup of them all, most likely.

I want it so badly.  I've never wanted a drink this much in my entire life.  I want a drink right now more than I ever, ever wanted a drink when I actually was drinking.

I feel so proud of myself for actually accomplishing this.

I feel guilty for feeling this way, and I try to suppress it, reminding myself that I haven't actually accomplished anything yet.  I have two weeks left to go.  I can feel proud then.  And celebrate with a drink.

I'm so scared that something bad is going to happen.  That I'm going to go off the deep end and lose control in some way that I never have before.  That I'm going to end up in another of those deep chemical depressions.  That I'm going to lose all of my creativity and desire to express myself.  That I'm going to lose the ability to write poetry.  Or worse, that I'm going to lose the ability to enjoy writing.  I'm scared of some other bad result that I haven't even thought of.

I'm scared of the fact that I don't know what's going to happen.

But I have to find out.

I have to know if I can handle it or not.

I have to find out how else the last year has changed me.

Raging Election...

(With apologies to everyone at The Colbert Report, from whom I blatantly stole the title for today's post.)

Wow.  Okay, so, yeah, I didn't see that coming last night, to be honest.  I'm so used to getting shellacked in these elections that I fully expected to be facing a Romney presidency this morning.  But not only did we re-elect Obama, but for the first time in my entire life, every single person or issue I voted for actually won.  And then to find out that Democrats and progressive issues won over and over again all across the country?  I'm just kind of stunned, honestly.

Last night, Maryland became the first state to uphold same-sex marriage with a voter referendum.  How fabulous is that?  So did Maine.  And Washington state looks like it's going to follow.  And speaking of Washington state, they legalized marijuana there last night.  They didn't just decriminalize it, they legalized it; for recreational use.  And so did Colorado.  Wow!

I was fully prepared to be seriously depressed today.  Now I don't quite know what to do with myself.

If you have any suggestions for ways I could spend my day not being depressed, please leave a comment below, and I will take it under consideration.  Thank you, and Gods Bless America.



Quick note about updates:  We're super-swamped at work with another tight deadline, and another series of endless snags delaying the whole process (yesterday was a clusterfuck on a scale that I have never witnessed here in fifteen years), and so I've been working more long hours again.  But this time, there's the added complication that I've been off-site for a lot of it, and so away from my computer.  And at home, we've got a couple of big projects to finish up in the next couple of weeks, as well, and so that's eating up a big chunk of what little free time I have left.  I actually have about a half a dozen posts started already that I've been wanting to get out there, but I just haven't had a chance to finish them yet.  Soon, soon.

Just wanted you to know that I'm still here, and I haven't given up or anything.  Just a tad too much on my plate at the moment.  Busy, busy Backson will be Back Soon.

And Ye Shall Receive...

I'd say this is eerie by most people's standards.  But the life of a chaos magickian is a life of eerie coincidences.

Just received a voicemail informing me that my computer is ready to be picked up.

About a week early.

And not a moment too soon.

Blurble...

Just a quick update while I scarf my breakfast.

Wireless card is definitely dead, so this weekend I'm going to back it up and take it someplace to get fixed.  In the meantime, I'm going to try to get my backup laptop up-and-running so that I can get back on the internet.  (Yes, I have a backup portable computer.  Doesn't everyone?)  But that will require a complete reformatting, so I might not be able to get that done this weekend.  But, I need the internet to play Mass Effect, and I am seriously jonesing for some Mass Effect right now, so hopefully that will be a good motivator for me.  Will me luck.

(And I just have to add a quick note here.  I'm really surprised that I'm not more upset about this than I am.  My computer breaking, again [I've never had a computer break as many times as this one has - it's absurd at this point], just as we finally get the internet fixed, which is something we've been struggling with for over 5 years now, is exactly the kind of thing that would've sent me off the fucking rails at any other time in my life.  And I honestly can't explain why I'm so calm about it now.  Just more even-keeled in general, I guess?  I don't know.  If I knew how I did it, I might even be proud of myself for it.)

Got a lot of work to do today, and I'm hoping I can get a large chunk of it taken care of and off my desk.  Then we've got our double-header for the season in Kickball tonight, so that ought to be interesting.  Being a double-header, that's going to mean twice the amount to write-up, so I might not be able to get that posted tomorrow like I normally would.  Especially if I'm in the hospital.

My scale hasn't been indicating much weight-loss since I started working out (maybe 2 pounds), but my eyes are telling me a different story.  My stomach is clearly much smaller than it was in April, or even at the beginning of March.  My pants fit better, and my belt is easier to fasten.  And when I look down, I can see my dick, without even sucking in my gut.

I call that progress.

Confounding Conundrum Countered, Conclusively...

Regarding the question, "if I'm still getting high, but just in healthier ways, am I really changing?  am I really getting better?" - a question I have been asking myself here repeatedly for some time now - I think I finally have an answer.

My counselor read my blog entry yesterday regarding the SMART meeting (I sometimes send him pertinent entries to keep him updated between sessions, and he is gracious enough to read them), and he sent me this reply:

A desire to want to get high and/or altering our mind/mood state is part of our genetic, biological, and chemical make-up as Humans. It is an underlying instinctual desire that we all have. That's why we have serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, adrenaline, and various other chemical neurotransmitters in the first place. These chemicals are a vital part of our survival mechanism, that's why sex, eating, and exercise can feel ssoooooo gooood! These chemicals are a part of [our] neuro-chemical make up to ensure pleasure when we engage in these activities. These activities are necessary for the healthy survival of any species. A desire to feel good or even feel high or to alter our mental status is very much a part of who we are as humans. This is why every civilization known to Man has developed some sort of mind altering practices or substances. The harm is when we lose the capacity to regulate the chemical process either internally or externally. Excess is what changes the dynamic from healthy to unhealthy and triggers addictive behaviors.

Short answer:  getting high is just a part of who we are, and we wouldn't be here without it; so, healthy methods are okay, but everything in moderation, always.

It seems so obvious now.  And in hindsight, I feel like I already knew it.  I just couldn't find my own way there, for some reason.  I was over-analyzing the situation again, I think.  Missing the forest for the trees.  I'm glad I had someone there who could explain it to me in a way that I could understand, and use.  Thanks, Doc.

I enjoyed my workout-induced endorphin high this morning, guilt-free.


PS - I kind of want to talk about this at my next SMART meeting, but I don't know if that's because I want to update them on my progress, or if I just want to start a confrontation with the panicky facilitator and prove him wrong in front of the rest of the group.  Can't deny that'd be fun.  But definitely a dick-move, too.  We'll see how I feel next week, I guess.

Status Report...

I'm feeling much better now.

Last week I started taking some herbal supplements.  Sunnaswort (aka St. John's Wort) for mood, Ginseng for energy, and Ginkgo Biloba for focus.  And I started feeling better almost immediately.  Which could be due to the herbs, or could just be the placebo effect, or could be due to the fact that my depressed period was simply coming to an end all on its own by that point anyways.  But, regardless of why, I've definitely been feeling better lately.

I've been much more relaxed and happy.  Still not quite the happy-go-lucky, go-with-the-flow of the pink cloud, but still a significant improvement over the last couple of weeks.  No more getting angry or upset about little things and then not being able to let them go.  I managed to get in both my mathematics lessons and a meditation session this weekend, and really enjoyed them all.  More to the point, I found myself excitedly looking forward to them, like I had been up until Walpurgisnacht.  I was worried I might've lost that.

And the sluggishness and lack-of-motivation are gone now, as well.  The last few days I've woken refreshed and ready to go, rather than feeling like I still needed several more hours of sleep.  It's been no trouble to make it into the gym on time the last several mornings, either.  I even managed to stay up late on Saturday night into Sunday morning playing my new video game, without feeling tired and drained the next day.  And I even managed to get a little bit of work done this weekend.  (Not as much as I'd like, but it's a start.)

So, we'll see how the rest of the week goes, but I'm optimistic.  Things seem to be improving.

Will me luck.

A Big, Fat Case of the Mondays...

Today was one of those mornings where everything seems to go wrong.

I got up at 5:30 to try to get back to the gym before work.  (Finally!  I need it!)  As I was getting ready, I was hit with a sudden attack of a severely upset stomach, and so by the time I managed to take care of that I was very late.  Still, I wasn't down about it.

On my new, beauteous back road commute, I almost immediately found myself about 15th in line behind a very, very slow-moving dump truck.  We're talking an average of 20 mph below the speed-limit here.  The guy in the Subaru Imprezza behind him was riding his tail viciously, but for some reason, he wouldn't pass the truck.  There were plenty of opportunities.  And I know an Imprezza can outrun me, so I know it can pass a freaking dump truck.  And the guy was obviously pissed off at going so slow, judging by his tailgating.  So why wouldn't he pass the truck??  And, of course, being 15th in line, several people up front were going to need to pass before I was going to have any chance of making it myself.  So, if they didn't pass, I couldn't pass.  The truck didn't turn off the road until about two miles from my work.  It was frustrating, but still, I didn't let it get to me.

Got to the office/gym late, but still with enough time to get in a workout.  Got down to the gym, grabbed a locker, suited up, put everything else in the locker, clicked the lock closed... and realized that I no longer remembered the combination.  I tried several combos that I thought might be it, but no dice.  Ok, no problem - I've got the combo recorded on my computer upstairs in my office.  ...But my office is locked, and the key is now locked in my gym locker.  Damn.  I spent the next fifteen minutes trying various combos I thought might be the one, but I couldn't find it.  So, ok, that's pretty damn frustrating, and I feel like an idiot now, but still, nothing to get upset about really; just a minor glitch.  Might as well get a workout in anyways.  I'm all suited up for it, and I've got nothing else to do right now.

I haven't worked out in several months.  In fact, I've gained back all of the weight I lost last Summer, plus a few pounds.  And I haven't exactly been what you'd call "active" in the meantime.  So, just fifteen minutes into my workout, I start to feel a tightening in my chest, and my left arm and shoulder start to hurt.  Doesn't take a cardiologist to figure out what that means.  So, ok, that's pretty scary, and a little daunting, but what's the sense in getting upset about it?  I just stopped what I was doing and went into my cool-down a little early.  No point in over-doing it.  Gotta crawl before you can walk.  Tomorrow, or someday soon, I'll be able to do twenty minutes, and then thirty, and that's how you get stronger.

So then my workout was over, and it was time to try and figure out what to do about my locker situation.  By this point in the morning, our secretary is supposed to be in, and she has a skeleton key.  So, I figured that I could just get her to let me into my office, get my combo, and then head back down to the gym to open up my locker and proceed with my post-workout clean-up.  So I exit the gym and head up the stairs towards my office... until I get to the first locked door.  My key card for opening our electronic security doors is on the same key ring as my office key, which previously mentioned is now locked in my gym locker.  And I can't get back into the gym, because that door is electronically locked, as well.  So, now I'm locked in a stairwell.  Ok, so, clearly, this is not my day.  But, it's early in the morning, someone is sure to be by soon.  I'll just have to wait here for a little bit, that's all.  I decided to take the opportunity to rest against a wall and have a morning meditation.

A note about my appearance:  I honestly don't care what I look like while I work out.  I don't bother to do my hair before my workout, because I'm just going to shower afterwards and have to do it again.  So, I had wet, sweaty bedhead.  And my workout clothes serve exactly one purpose:  to keep me as cool and comfortable as possible while I'm working out.  They are not meant to look attractive.  My running shirt is thin and sleeveless, and you can clearly see my man-tits outlined against the... whatever the hell fabric that shirt is made of.  And my shorts are, well, shorts; they do an excellent job of showing off my pasty-white, nearly hairless, and overly large legs.

Now, this is all fine, when I'm down in the gym and everyone else around me is also all sweaty and not-looking-their-best, but now I had to leave that specialized attire area, and venture out into the rest of the office.  I felt a bit conspicuous, to say the least.  After a few minutes, someone came along and let me in, and in short order I managed to get the skeleton key from our secretary, unlock my office, and retrieve the combo from my computer.  (My earlier guesses hadn't even been close, by the way.)  But now I had to get that knowledge back through all the electronically-locked security doors, and into the gym locker room.

I made my way down the back stairway and out into the parking garage, and around to the front door of the gym.  I took this route specifically to avoid the more direct route, which would lead me straight through the crowded cafeteria where so many of my co-workers would be having breakfast right about now.  But unbeknownst to me (because I always enter the gym through the back way), the main entrance into the gym lobby is also sealed with an electronic lock.  And unlike the stairwell I was trapped in earlier, I can't expect someone to be coming by this way very soon.  Almost everyone uses the back entrance, because it's attached to the office, the parking deck and the cafeteria; the front entrance is attached to the visitor parking lot.  So, I'm going to need a new way in.

At this point, standing in my gym clothes on the front lawn, facing yet another locked door, the absurdity of the situation is beginning to sink in.  I decide to see if the receptionist in the office building's main lobby (the one and only area of the our building that one can enter without a key card) would be able to let me into the gym.  When she tells me she can't do that, I actually start to laugh.  And not in a if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, either.  I was genuinely amused.  I mean, how is this not funny at this point?

What the receptionist can do, she tells me, is to let me into the building so that I can go up through the cafeteria and down into the gym lobby that I was locked out of; then I should be able to knock on the door of the gym's workout area and get someone's attention to let me back in.  She lets me into the building and I bypass the elevators and head up the stairwell, just like I normally do, thinking about the fact that I will now have to go through the cafeteria in my sweaty workout clothes, just as I'd been trying to avoid.  Unfortunately, because I was thinking about that little unpleasantness, I failed to realize that I would, of course, need a key card in order to exit the stairwell and therefore enter the cafeteria.  I did realize this as soon as I walked the three flights of stairs to the locked door, however.

So, I had to find my way out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, again, walk down the parking garage and out to the front of the building, again, and get the receptionist to let me into the lobby, again.  I was actually enjoying myself by this point!  As soon as I walked into the main lobby, the receptionist reminded me that I would need to take the elevators in order to reach the cafeteria without a key card, and I thanked her for delivering that information that would have been so useful five minutes earlier.  But, after passing through the cafeteria, and enduring some disgusted stares, I finally made it back into the gym, and managed to open my locker.  I almost danced the Dance of Joy on the spot.

But after my shower, as I was getting dressed, I realized something important.  After that whole ridiculous comedy of errors that was my Monday morning, I felt great.  I was happy.  I wasn't frustrated or upset or irritated or anxious or any of the things I would've predicted I'd have felt after going through all of this.  Throughout the entire ordeal, I naturally responded in a completely different way than I normally would have, without trying to.  I had Brightsided my way through a rather hellish Monday morning and into a fabulous mood, without having to think about it once.

And here I thought this day couldn't get any better.

My Precious...

I keep forgetting that this all started with Her.

Amid all the psychodrama and melodramatic, existential bullshit at my latest rock bottom, I keep losing sight of how I ended up there in the first place.  Of the reason why I started running head-long toward the dark at the end of the tunnel at all.  And equally, in the effervescence of all of my recently re-discovered joys, in the heady excitement of my bright, shiny new serenity, I also keep losing sight of the fact that, that reason is now gone.  That I got what I wanted all along.

That I'm so in love with Her.

Yes, it's Spring, and that certainly has to be factored into the equation.  But that doesn't make anything I'm feeling less relevant, or any less real.  For months, and maybe longer, I felt like I'd lost her.  (I realize now, I'd actually lost myself.)  I couldn't find any reason to be with her, except momentum.  I couldn't find any joy in her company, in her touch, or in her place in my life.  I realize now that I couldn't find any joy in anything in my life just then, but at the time I was completely focused on her.  I thought that We were the problem, that something was wrong with Us that needed to be fixed.  That if she could only change, or if I could only learn to be happy without the things I felt I needed from her, then everything would be better.  But it never was.  It was never good enough.  Nothing was ever good enough.  And I only ended up more unhappy, and more lost.

I believe my biggest flaw (and I have so many), is how I respond in these situations.  When I cannot find joy in my life, when I feel lost and alone, when I begin to struggle to find a reason to keep going, I force-feed myself artificial pleasure in the form of deadly poisons.  Now, to be fair, most of the time it's not like that.  In fact, I'd say 99% of the time it's just a little here, a little there - just having a good time and blowing off a little steam.  And nothing that's even really dangerous, let alone deadly.  Under any other circumstance, it's all innocent and under control.  No, not "under control," because the truth is that for most of the time, there's nothing there that even needs to be controlled in the first place.  But then there's that fatal 1% of the time, when I feel like I have nothing.  And believing I have nothing, and feeling that it's all downhill from there anyways, then I might as well enjoy the ride.  And that's when I push the plunger on my self-destruct button.

And that's exactly what I did here.  I'd made her my entire life, in about the most self-destructive, co-dependent manner imaginable.  And so when I felt like I'd lost her, I felt like I'd lost everything.  I hadn't, but I couldn't see that from the bottom of the hole I had dug myself into.  And when I finally hit bottom, I wasn't even thinking of saving myself from myself.  I still hadn't even realized that I was the problem.  I thought I was trying to save my marriage.  I thought I was trying to find a way to live with her.  But I was just trying to find a way to live.

And now I'm so happy, and so overjoyed with every second of every day, blah blah blah.  The high of the near-death experience.  And it's all such a big distraction, so constantly overwhelming, that I keep forgetting to pay attention specifically to all that I've re-gained with her.

My heart beats faster when I think of her now.  It actually skips when she kisses me.  Can you fucking believe that?  I didn't think that was possible anymore!  Everything she does makes me happy right now.  Even the things I used to think I couldn't stand.  I don't know how I ever felt any other way than I do right now.  I'm so grateful for the gift of her life, and the fact that she actually, improbably, inexplicably, wants to share it with me.  I look forward to seeing her every day in a way I only distantly remember feeling, long ago.  I ache softly inside when I have to leave her.  When I make her laugh, I own the fucking world.  And when my hands are on her hips, and I pull her to me, and feel every curve of her pressed against my body, I am lost again.  But no longer in darkness.  Lost in the cloudy depths of her palest-blue eyes.  Lost in the scent of her skin.  Lost in my lust to reunite with the other half of me.  Lost in the warm, comfortable weight of the life we've made, wrapped around us, holding us tightly together.  Lost in my joy of Her.

I hold no delusions that this will last forever.  Rule #1:  everything, everyone, everywhere, ends.  But because I know that right now, I am more grateful than I ever thought possible, for every single second I get to be with her.  And I remember now, what I had so tragically forgotten:

That She is the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

And that no matter whatever else I may be in my life, the one and only thing I will always be, forever, is Her's.

Te: The Power of Small Things

I combed my hair the other day.

For many months now, I've been sporting what I've referred to as, "The Mad Scientist Look."  Hair going up and out in every direction, like a birds' nest; my only effort to do my hair in the morning being simply to wet it, towel it dry, and then muss it up as much as possible, almost as if I were giving myself a noogie.  Though I thought of it as "Mad Scientist," in retrospect it probably came off more as "The Homeless Junkie Look."

After my drift on Saturday, after my shower, as I was getting myself ready to go out to dinner, I decided to comb my hair.  I honestly can't remember the last time I did this.  (Even before the M-S-L, all of the haircuts I've had in recent memory have required the use of my hands to arrange, if they've needed arranging at all.  I can't remember the last brush I owned, and the only thing I've used a comb for lately is my beard.)  Just combed my wet hair back along my part, very simple and neat.  I don't know why I made that particular change just then, but I felt different, so it felt right to look different.  And I'm still following my instincts, listening to my gut, going with the flow of my Tao, etc.  And the pull inside me just then said, "comb your hair."  So I did.

I have to say that I like the new look better than the old.  Overnight my hair went from curly to straight.  And I hadn't realized how long my hair had gotten.  Swept back over my skull, it has an almost classic, yet still quite nerdy feel that I find I'm enjoying.

But it was a fairly severe departure, as you can imagine.  Pretty much the exact opposite of what I'd been doing before.  This has become especially apparent to me today, now that I am back at work, in the form of the many double-takes I've received from co-workers.  Over and over again, I'll pass someone in the hall whom I've worked with for many years, and we'll each say "hi."  And I'll see in their eyes when we first address each other, just a split-second of the process Incomprehension-to-Recognition-to-Surprise.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Properly Applied Force.

Such a small thing to do, such a minor difference to make, and with such minimal effort.  But the affect of this miniscule action ripples out through my entire life and changes so much.  My appearance, or the information that I broadcast to every other human I encounter in my day-to-day life, is now completely different.  And so not only has my message changed, but for those who know me, and who know how I looked before, there is the additional message of, "something has changed with him; he is different now than he was before."  And not just with the hair.  Because on some level, even for just a microsecond, they have to think:  Why did he do that?  Why would he change his appearance to almost the exact opposite of the way it has been for so long now?  And why now?  What happened to him?

And it affects me greatly, as well.  Every time I look in the mirror, or catch my reflection in a pane of glass out of the corner of my eye, I see someone that I don't immediately recognize.  For a split-second, I am a stranger to myself.  And again, there is that instant of cognitive dissonance, of gnosis.  That brief crack in reality where, for the tiniest of moments, you're not sure which side of the looking glass you're standing on.  That hyperunit of time where everything is true, and everything is possible.  And then recognition sets in, and your ego returns, and you're suddenly aware of who you are again.  The effect of so many brief flashes of un-reality inserted into ones' day is not to be underestimated.  It tends to make everything feel less real, and more fluid; it tends to make the seemingly impossible feel more possible.  And it is exhilarating.

I've managed to change my sense of what is real, simply by combing my hair.

Emptying, to Form...

Where am I going with this?

What am I doing?

What's wrong with me?  Why am I so unhappy?

What do I want?

Do I love you, completely?

Do I love you, at all?

Or do I just need to feel loved by someone?

...

No.  No, that's not the right question.  I do love you.  We've been through way too much together for way too long, have too much history, for me to not love you.  There's a part of me that will always love you, in some way.

The question is, do I love you the way that I'm supposed to?  Do I love you the way that a husband should love his wife?  Or do I just love you as the one person I've been closer to in my life, and shared more of myself with, than any other?

And is there a difference?

Questions, questions, questions!  Everywhere I look it's more fucking questions!  WHERE ARE THE FUCKING ANSWERS?!!

...

I've moved out, temporarily.  Checked myself into a hotel for the week.

Why?  What do I hope to gain from that?  Am I just trying to "shake things up" - just introduce a little anarchy into my life to see what happens?  Am I just trying to force a random change?  Or am I trying to step out of my life, to gain some perspective?  Or am I just hiding?  Just running away?

I don't know.  I don't know if I ever knew.

I'm grasping at straws here.  Suddenly, every single little thing is pregnant with meaning.  Is this The Answer?  Is this what I need?  Will this make me better?  Will this solve my problems?

How can I get better when I don't even know what's wrong?  How can I find The Answer when I don't even know The Question??

Am I looking for fulfillment?  Or do I just want a happy, satisfying marriage?  Are they mutually exclusive?  Or are they one and the same?

...


I keep coming back to this one thought.  That I need to clean up my act.  That everything will be better, and I will be happy and content, if I just give up the drink and all the rest, start working out and losing weight and eating right, start meditating again and studying the Tao, etc., etc.

But then I also can't shake the feeling that all of that is just a bunch of middle-aged, white, American, liberal, hipster bullshit.

But I'm following my gut, aren't I?  That's what I'm doing right now.  I'm following my gut instincts, blindly, in a desperate attempt to get away from wherever the fuck I am right now, to someplace, anyplace else.

And it's my gut that's telling me to follow that path.  That salad yesterday (my first in I-can't-remember-when; it's been all pot pies and beer lately) was the best thing I've tasted in a long, long time.  It's was, literally, unbelievably, shockingly delicious. And there was absolutely nothing special about it - just greens, some veggies, and oil & vinegar.  I keep thinking about how wonderful it would be to just spend some time sitting still and being quiet.  I keep dreaming of my gomden the way I've so often dreamed of the pipe.  That stupid little weekly email quote from Pema Chodron felt like the Universe speaking directly to ME.

And it's my head that's telling me it's all a load of crap.

That means something.

Doesn't it?

But what if all of that only feels right because it's my safety net; because it's safe and familiar because that's what I do when I get lost in these existential crises?  ("Existential Crisis" - jesus, talk about a first-world fucking problem.  How spoiled of a brat do I have to be to even be taking any of this seriously?  But, what, am I supposed to pretend I have the experience of a migrant worker in Guatemala or some shit??  I DON'T.  I can only be who I am. And I am a white, middle-aged American liberal, who is fortunate enough to have the luxury of being able to engage in this kind of introspective panic.)

But what if that's what I do when I get in these situations because that's what I'm supposed to do in these situations because that is The Answer to these problems?!

Ugh, this is making me dizzy.

...

And way, way back in the deep down of me, I feel this fear.  This fear that I'm going to die here.  That I'm never going to get out of this maze of questions alive.  That any reprieve is only temporary, and that I will always end up right back here.

That they're going to find me, cold and still on a hotel bed, the same way they found my mother.

I'm scared of the way that feels like Destiny.

...

And She says, "I'm sure it hurts!  I can't imagine caring so much about so many things.  It must be exhausting!  Maybe you should get back into the Tao so you can let things go and ease your pain..."

And I can't help but laugh!  She has no idea I've been thinking that, or writing this here, at the exact same time.  Out of the mouths of babes...

Is it another sign?  Or am I just connecting dots to find the pattern in the chaos that I want to see?

...

Is all of this just because I don't like myself?  Is that why I feel compelled to do all of those self-improvements?  Because I feel like I would like myself better?

...

When I'm drifting like this, grasping at straws, lost and desperate in this vague and undefined way, I find that I start to obsess about strange things.  A lot of the time it starts as ordinary, banal escapism.  But sometimes it leads me to the Way Out.  The most famous example of this in my life so far, was reading Wild Cards in the bath way back when.  In about the strangest way possible, it was those baths that led me directly to my first direct experience of the Tao.  Changed my life forever.

Right now, it's The Moth.

I can't stop listening to it.  Every story just makes me feel, so much, and so powerfully.  And so I guess there must be something about that feel-ing that I need right now, just like I needed to disappear into the warm water back then.  I would assume then, that also like the baths, I probably will only be able to explain this obsession in hindsight.

Follow Your Instincts.

It's the only thing I feel like I can do right now.  When all else fails (and, let's be honest, all else really has failed here), then Follow Your Instincts.

It's the only thing I feel like I know, for certain.

...

Yesterday, the quote on Zen Pencils reminded me of Bill Hicks' "It's just a ride..." quote.  I got a strong urge to submit that quote to the author/webmaster.  In doing that, I had to find it in my PDA so I could copy and paste it into the email.

Just now, I needed to go into the same section of my PDA that holds all my little notes and stuff, to look up something else.  It was still on the same page with the Bill Hicks' quote.  That page is titled "Philosophies."

I have a collection of notes on my Philosophies of Life that I've collected over the years, stored in my PDA - and I had completely forgotten about it!

And there it was, right in the middle of the list:  The Tao of ManniMoonYin that had come to me so many years ago under such similar circumstances - the Tao that I had been led to from my bath.

How can it be??  It seems that I've forgotten my Tao:

"All things that are, are change."
("All things that are, are fire."  The only constant is change.  Nothing lasts forever.  EVERYTHING is mutable.)

"You cannot be good.  You cannot be bad.  You can only be."
(You cannot be "good," and you cannot be "bad."  These are entirely relative judgements - what is "good" for one will be "bad" for another, and vice versa.  The only thing you can "be," is Michael.)

"Look on the bright side."  "Make the most of it."
(This is the only life you get.  There's nothing good nor bad but thinking makes it so - so find the good in *everything* - even your mother's suicide was a good thing when you figured out how to look at it right.  Choose joy, and you will be joyous.)

"You are amazing.  And so is everyone else."
(Glass houses; no one is fit to judge anyone else.  Judgement only leads to division, separation, and loneliness.  We are all One.)

...

That's 3 coincidences now today, all pointing to the same thing.  And today is my 3rd day of this desperate searching.


Even if I'm just connecting the dots in the chaos to find the pattern I want to see, that pattern is obviously deeply meaningful to me in some way.  My path clearly leads in that direction.  And if I am to follow my instincts, then how can I ignore the pattern I see in the noise, like meaning in an inkblot?


It seems that I have found My Answer.

...