You Know What Might Not Cheer You Up?
Re-reading old journals, thinking about how infinitely complex your inner emotional life is, and then coming across this comic that cuts across all that stuff:

Sigh.

Filed under:Comics as Life Therapy

The Good News
I was once told (ok, more than once, but mostly by the same person) that my blog is too negative. I focus on negative stuff. And it can be very true.

Been thinking about my state of mind in general, lately. The other day while riding to work, a couple of drivers did Very Nice Things that we people who ride bicycles ought to be very appreciative of. Normal stuff, like checking for bikes before opening your car door, but stuff that not everybody does, nonetheless. And I made an effort to try to keep those people in mind as I rode, to keep those kind actions in the background of my thoughts as I finished my ride. Thing is, if those people had done something negative--cut me off, not signalled, or worse, I likely wouldn't have had to make an effort at all to remember them for a while. Sometimes those sorts of actions stay with me all day--and, in fact, I think they build up in me as the days go by. I think, over many years, I have come to think of people as being sort of generally unkind, selfish and the like.

That is, I think I think that sort of subconsciously. Consciously, I think that people are all struggling in a world that they didn't make, to lesser and greater degrees of success (however they may judge success). I think that, even in the best of circumstances--circumstances that I often find myself in--life can be difficult to live. And I try to keep that in mind when somebody doesn't signal and makes a right hand turn right in front of me, cutting me off, or worse, a left hand turn from the opposing direction, almost hitting me, or some such. And I try to think about the times that I'm uncaring and unthinking--the times that I do something bad to others.

But why is it that the kind stuff, the nice stuff, which really can be the norm (most people don't cut me off), doesn't sink into my consciousness as much, doesn't stick out in my mind the way the jerks do? Is it just that things that aren't the norm stick out? Or are there more chemical/biological reasons--my adrenaline does go up when somebody cuts me off or some such, and perhaps adrenaline affects my emotional memory of the incident, so it sticks with me more?

At any rate, because I'm told I'm too negative here sometimes, and because yesterday was a blue day, I thought I'd say: I'm feeling a bit better today. The blue-ness is seeping away. The dark cloud, while it hasn't dissipated completely, looks less ominous today. There, I said it. Maybe I should rename the blog: Unicorns and Rainbows.

Filed under:Biking and Therapy

Fuck It.
"Self," I thought to myself this morning, "you ought to not bother posting today. Take a little break. You're depressed, and who wants to keep hear about how you have your fits of depression, really?"

And then I thought: I do. I want to hear about it. I want to write about it. I want to better understand it, even if understanding it doesn't mean that I can change it much, or keep it from happening, or...whatever.

So here's the story: Late Friday night, it hit me, and it hasn't really gone away. I had some hours of relief hanging out with Jessie, Kareem and chasing my nephew around as he did one of the things that makes him happier than anything in the world--pushing around a little four-wheeled thingie. Pushing it down the sidewalk. Up driveways. And back again. And then back again and again. For. Ever. My jealousy for the little guy's ability to find joy is riding at an all-time high.

And then, the blue mood just...stuck. All weekend. And it's with me still. And, right along with the normal script, I've got a sore throat and a bit of a cold, I think. But mostly I just put my head down, try to ride it out, try not to start crying at the drop of a hat, and wait for it to go away. Because it always does.

And that's the weird thing--I'm no longer worried that it won't go away. Much. It will go away, if history proves anything. But I still have a very hard time letting go of the 'why' question. Why does it come at all? What can I do differently so that I won't hit these blue patches? If I don't start doing something differently, will they come more often and stronger? (And then...what if one day it doesn't go away?) It's weird, to know, from history, that this will pass, and, again from history, that there's not much more I can do about it--at least it seems to be that way, when I'm in it and when I'm out of it. The weird part is knowing, but not being able to do anything about it.

Which isn't true, either. I can do something about it. I can put my head down and ride it out. I can cultivate habits (like exercising) which will help me whether I'm blue or not. But, it seems, I can't stop wondering what else I might do, and if I maybe could make this stop, full stop, someday.

Probably light blogging the next few days...


Filed under:Therapy

You Make My Hair Hurt

Recently a blogger I thought I was having a spirited discussion with let me in on exactly how my insistent questions were making her feel: "Drop it already. Christ, you make my hair hurt sometimes."

I've probably talked about this effect that I can have on people before, but it's still something that stays with me, a problem that occurs again and again, and as such is something I've flagged as 'need to work on' in myself. This isn't easy.

Identity
Part of why this stuff is hard for me is because of how I see myself. Part of what feels integral to my personality is that I like to ask questions. I like this about myself. Not only does it give me a lot of pleasure, but I think it's a good way to go about life, inquiring, seeking knowledge, all that good stuff. If somebody were to ask me what I like about myself, the fact that I like to investigate 'stuff'--that I'm curious, and not shy (generally) about asking questions would be somewhere at the top of my list.

But when my questioning frustrates other people, then I begin to question (paging Dr. Irony) my motives. On the less drastic side of things, asking questions can be a way of avoiding talking about oneself. More importantly, asking questions can be a way of wielding power and privelege. "I get to ask the questions around here!" is a power-claiming sort of thing for good reasons.

So, the process of understanding if my motives and actions are good (for me, for others) in this regard can be pretty painful, to the extent that I see myself as 'a questioner' who might have to give up on some of his questioning--if my motives aren't good ones. Which makes me think that I'll have to adjust my identity--not a fun prospect in some ways.

I Don't Want to Talk About This Anymore
No matter how close you are to me, it's unlikely that you'll here the above phrase from me at all, ever. I just don't feel this way very often, and among the times I do feel this way, I'm not very likely to listen to those feelings. My general tendency in my life is to keep talking, keep asking.

And yet, even I have my limits. Sometimes, when I'm with people who know a lot more about something than I do, I feel this way more often. There's only so much learning I can do before my brain feels full and I'd like to move on. Talking with one of my old profs was this way sometimes; we'd talk philosophy for 3 hours, and I'd start to make little jokes to extricate myself from that particular conversation, to try to talk about something else, and she would not pick up on (or chose to ignore) those little jokes. I can only talk shop for so long before I begin to be overwhelmed. Generally it's not that I'm no longer interested in the conversation--often I am very interested--or bored or some such; it's just that my brain can't take any more inquiry. I need some cold media, or to just sit and not think for a little while.

I've felt this way around just a few other people in my life, and only for brief periods of time. That's part of what makes the fact that I have gotten this sentiment from other people enough times makes me feel like there's something I'm doing wrong.

Entitlement
I think part of what's going on here is that I tend to keep going, even when other people are 'done' talking with me, because of a sense of entitlement that I have. There's just no denying that this must play some part in what's going on. I expect people to respond to me, and to respond to me in the ways I would like--when they don't, I get confused and, sometimes, frustrated. And when the context is something along the lines of my conversation with zuzu, quoted above, where I am trying to understand something she said on her blog--I'm in her space--I'm sure I don't read signals quickly enough. I tend to not quickly enough question whether or not I ought to continue to question.

Caring
Another aspect, though, is that I see the process of answering my questions (and asking questions of yer own) as a loving act. When people want to keep having conversations with me, I get a feeling that they get me, that they feel I'm worth it. Clearly, when somebody says drop it, they no longer feel I'm worth it. But the other side of this coin is that I ought to more often note that the people in my life who do listen and ask questions and answer my own questions--they do get me, they do care. The people who more often tell me that I'm not worth the thinking, they just don't care as much.

Do Not Block the Road to Inquiry
So what do I do? When I think something is worth asking about, but I've clearly been told that another person doesn't want to talk about it any longer, what are my options? Well, when I'm clearly told, I don't have many options...I have to back off, my questions unanswered by that person at that time. Seems like no big deal; to some people it probably isn't. But for me it's a big deal, because I go along with William James and Charles Pierce with the notion that 'the only sin is to block the road to inquiry'. Not that I believe in sin. But I do believe that once you say, "I don't want to talk about it any longer," there's a chance that you're avoiding the discussion because you don't want to deal with what may come out of the discussion. Of course there's a chance that you're simply protecting yourself (i.e. if you feel you're being unfairly attacked) or just being practical (we don't have an infinite amount of time to answer the questions of others).

Still, even if I believe that zuzu has my position wrong, that I wasn't clear enough and she's not giving me a very courteous reading or whatever, I back off now, because she asked me to. I write in my own blog, in my own space and not hers, because she explicitly asked me to leave her space. Because I am *not* entitled to her answers (or even to her reading my questions, really). There is a danger here, too, though--at some point, somebody may tell me they don't want to talk about it anymore as a bully tactic. Bush Jr. doesn't like discussing Iraq very much, and when he shuts down conversation about that topic, I think we ought to still ask questions--just as a for-instance. When is it a bully tactic and when is it just frustration? Well, in general in my personal life, it's probably just frustration. And yet...there has to be give and take here as well--over the long term, anybody involved needs to agree as to when things stop and when they don't. It's tough water to navigate, because either side (the questioner or the questioned) can be the bully, really.

Filed under:Therapy

The Apathy Thing
I think I've known for a while that it really can be apathy, not despair, which destroys a life. My life, in this case. Of course, eventually apathy and despair get sort of all mixed up, and start causing one-another.

I can often recognize when I'm going to hit a little bit of a blue patch when apathy starts to seep in. I recognize it sometimes in the little decisions in my life--what to have for lunch, whether to do laundry and then go to the store or vice-versa. When these little decisions are difficult to make, a big red flag pops up.

Through experience, I've discovered that with these sorts of decisions, when I feel apathy seeping into the process, it's best to just pick something and go with it, to end deliberation. The process of deliberation, once apathy settles in for the duration, is an apathy-engine of it's own. If I can't even decide what to have for lunch, my brain tells me, then what, really, is the point of deliberating at all? What is the point of anything? (This is partly the effect of having taken too many philosophy classes. As Steve Martin once said: "In college, you learn just enough philosophy to fuck you up for the rest of your life.")

Then there are the day-to-day decisions which, though they also seem small, are what life adds up to sometimes. For instance--taking care of one's home. I get home, put my keys and wallet down, take off my backpack and...look around. The place is a mess. Or, even better, I wake up on a Saturday, take a shower, eat a bit of breakfast and look around...the place is a mess. Do I clean the kitchen or the bathroom first? Well, neither, because it's tough to decide.

Monopoly Money
It's strange the sort of games one learns to play with oneself. Good games. Positive games. Giving yourself little rewards. Sunday I knew I had to get some cleaning done, but apathy ruled. I had a bunch of tv-dvds that I could watch, and vegitate, and wait out the apathy (which isn't a bad strategy sometimes--sometimes apathy and depression are a sign that some recharhing, some holing up, need to be done). But I know from experience that the apathy would go away more quickly if I did something. Anything constructive at all. So I told myself, clean this space (a little space) and you get to watch something. Then you clean something else (slightly larger space). Then another. And you can get your vegitating in, but you can also wake up tomorrow to a cleaner living space.

It's a meta-game, and I am well-aware that not everybody has to play it. It's like putting monopoly money under the board. There are those to whom cleaning up and keeping things organized comes as second-nature, as a pleasure (to some, an obsessive pleasure, but still).

Big Apathy
But I think, while I'm happy to have developed some of these meta-game skills, I am still worried about the larger apathy picture. The larger strain of apathy in my life most likely informs these little apathy episodes. And the larger apathy feelings--I don't know that there's a meta-game to help me past them. I suppose one example of a meta-game would be falling in love, or having a kid, or any of the 'big' things that people do in life. (At some level, the meta-game is just the game, perhaps--not to get too lamely-ex-philosophy-student abstract on you.)

The thing is, I recognize that if I want some happiness, then I have to have wants. (And, most days, I do think I want at least happiness.) You can't want happiness in the abstract. You have to have some things you want and you have to go after them--and some of them you'll get and some you won't. But you'll be happier in both cases than if you don't have wants at all. I know this. And yet...the older I get, the less I seem to want.

And that can be pretty scary, thinking that you don't want, well, anything. And it's not true, of course. Take some things away and it will become clear I still have wants (i.e. food, shelter and the like). Then whence the apathy at all, I sometimes wonder? I think, sometimes, that this is all a product of my inability to process all of reality. There's just too much. And I shut down. Given too many choices, I can't make any.

But it makes me sad. When I was a kid, I begged for a TI994a. Eventually, I got it, even though it cost 200 bucks or something ridiculous. And I lived with that thing for a long, long time. I stayed up all night learning to program in BASIC. I talked about it at school. When I was first in college, I couldn't wait until the first day of classes (dork). I would lay awake all excited.

Somewhere along the line, as I grew older, I began to realize that any of these things that mattered to me, pretty much only mattered because I made them matter. And the older I get, the less I make an effort, I suppose, to make things matter. Whine, whine, whine. Why should I be suprised that the same thing that has happened to generations of people is now happening to me?

Oh, and it's really weird to recognize that this feeling will likely go away in a few days...

Filed under:Therapy

Eternal Recurrance
I've seen people in movies wake up from a nightmare with a huge gasp, sitting up, sucking in air in one big act, and then panting, bleary-eyed, hoping their heart won't burst. It's always for dramatic effect, usually to bring the audience to bear on the fact that the character was, in fact, only dreaming that he was being hunted by giant squid, wasn't drowning at all, but that his body hasn't quite come to terms with it, and is gasping for air anyway.

I woke up like that last night, around 4am. Later, when I had calmed down, the drama queen-iness of if made me laught myself back to sleep (sorta). The dream, while it wasn't quite as strange as the shark dream I had the other night, had a similar feel. Thing is, in a way the dream was so freakin cliche. What did I dream of, that caused me so much anguish? Pretty much an amalgam of the various breakups I've been on the 'breakee' side of things on, over my whole life.

It's not many. (But I do like to talk about them, don't I?) Yet, for whatever reasons, they're some of the most intense emotional experiences of my life. I should count myself lucky for this, I know, but that doesn't stop it from getting to me, even still. I mean, I dreamt about my girlfriend from when I was 17 years old, for jeebus sake!

Thing is, and I've said this before: It's not really about the people I loved (and still love, apparently, in whatever way). There's something in me that's playing these scenes out again, that's still stuck there, in the past. It's not all a negative thing. I'm glad that I have loved so deeply (or obsessively, depending on your point of view and what day it is), and I'm glad that I can still feel things, good and bad. And I can't help thinking my brain is trying its hardest to 'work things out' but got stuck somewhere along the lines.

Ah therapy, sweet therapy, I missed you this week!

Filed under:Therapy