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@lucidsocks-blog
Monday, victory.
Breathing: victory. Roof over head: victory.
Comfortable bed: victory. Unrepeated history: victory. Learning, appreciating, getter better: victory.
Realising that they’re just hormones; victory.
Neither certifiably insane nor certifiably sane: victory.
Self-elected life coach, to myself.
Taking the time out, just to look at the trees and the sunlight, is what I’m doing.
I’m thinking about the pointless shit with which we fill up our lives: consumable goods, imaginary opinions of others, junk food, fast food, status concern, emotional leftovers from unhealthy or unproductive relationships; expensive habits, a desire to be noticed or validated by less-than-close friends, mentally inflated stress(es).
I drive myself to worry. I’m afraid of the space between, the gap of silence. I search for the something that fills things up, the putty for the holes in my mental wall.
It really is a wall; it serves its purpose. It blocks things out. The worry blocks out the good and the bad. It prevents me from feeling things like true hope and disappointment because I’m not thinking about what I want, I’m thinking about what I should want according to others. (Which is confusing when you’re around people who want different things of/for you).
Instead, it fills it up with these occupational concerns that I’ve always attributed to my ability to get things done. I’ve thought these worries and stresses constitute not only my to do list, but my motivation and my carry-through for the tasks.
I have been so worried about what people think of me and what I’m doing and how people are viewing it I constantly want to run away. I want to be somewhere I can’t be seen, where I can’t see anyone’s faces or imagine what criticisms or opinions are happening behind blank eyes, in their minds.
When I drink I don’t see critical faces, I see happy faces, silly faces, moving, talking, laughing faces. I see faces with a shimmer of soul, breaking through and shining in the light. I don’t see what my mother might disapprove of, I don’t see my own shortcomings all I see is drink and drunk. All I hear is, ‘maybe I’ll get another drink’.
I love to drink but I don’t like why I do it. I don’t like the way it makes me feel the next day physically or mentally. I don’t like that I am unable to conduct my mental health and social wellbeing in the direction of silliness and playfulness and openness without a drink. I refuse to let go of the negative because I guess I identify with structural integrity of worry. Is it really what gets things done?
Why are we so afraid of letting go of these worries? Why are we so afraid to deconstruct these mental walls of incremental concern? If the worries of the world were lego pieces I suppose they’d come in all shapes and sizes.
There would be the small concerns e.g. getting milk, tidying your room, cleaning the toilet, etc. They would be identical ones in different colours, the smallest ones of which you have the most.
And then there are the bigger concerns: relationship issues, identifying housing choices, evaluating job opportunities, political opinions, etc. There a fewer of those, they are possibly the same size but distinguishable, in the lego world maybe they have those stupid faces on them or they have the arm attachments, the awkward wheel things, the things you notice.
And then there are the big ones: the bad times in close relationships, the money issues, the deaths, the losses, poor health the big fears. They are the big statement pieces. There aren’t that many of them but wherever they are on the lego construction of concern, they don’t fit.
When the life’s big bad things arrive, the largest pieces dump themselves on the awkward wheels and the stupid faces and they posit themselves on the stacks and stacks or minor uniform colourful concerns and then, eventually, it all just tumbles over.
I’m just thinking, you know, if I didn’t worry about fecking house chores and impressing people by tidying my room or you know, not beating myself up about forgetting the milk, maybe I wouldn’t crumble when life shits on me with a death or a job loss.
There is no way of stacking this lego that will work out in the long run. It’s not a building where you stack from biggest to smallest. You can’t pile the big things on the bottom to lay ‘a healthy foundation’ because the small concerns rain down constantly and will eventually outweigh all other concerns.
You can’t construct your identity with concerns as foundational blocks at all. They are ticking time bombs, every lego block with an inbuilt forgotten land mine. Something will happen, it will trigger that big worry and boom, when it goes off it knocks all the other concerns like dominos and suddenly a few days after hearing about a death, you’re having a mental break down because you forgot the milk.
While you’re beating yourself up about forgetting the milk you might miss some vital signs. You might miss opportunities for connection. I think I try so hard to be a certain kind of person: a good person, I guess. You know, like: do the right thing, work out, treat people right, keep shit together, don’t forget the milk, sometimes I don’t make time for someone close and I ignore my gut feeling to go and see them because I think, ‘don’t be such a sook, you need to get these things done first’. And later I realise after catching up with them like two months later, that they had needed me as much as I had needed them.
How do you explain that? Oh sorry, my wall of lego block concerns blocked my ability to receive the benefits of human connection.
Meanwhile, in a sea of scratchy lego block pieces, I’m drowning in cubes.
Sometimes it goes the other way: my concerns stack up and stack up. I just sit there and look at all the things I’m not doing. I’m not ignoring them. They’re worrying me. I’m staring inwards at myself, thinking why aren’t you doing anything? After a while, they’re a mosaic of colour. Like that massive lego construct you begged your mum not to go near because it was like the biggest thing you’d ever created, ever.
Speaking of mums, that’s another type of lego block placement. There are the ones that are placed by your mum or dad or another person who has an opinion that matters to you. You know those ones? It could be a friend with a cool job, who has done well for themselves, or your mum asking the questions that you have compartmentalised in the deep, deep recesses of your brain i.e. ‘why haven’t you chased that thing that you loved, that you were good at? Why are you still in the same position as you were like three years ago? Are you afraid of succeeding?’
It’s hard to say this, it’s hard to admit it: I’m failing.
By definition, I’m failing because I know I’m not chasing success. A long time ago, I stopped chasing success because I stopped evaluating how I would determine my own success. I’m failing because I’m not getting anywhere and that’s because I am not trying anymore. Success can be defined by anyone but I’m coming to realise the only definition of it that matters is the one I, myself, make.
I’ve felt like a failure in others’ eyes a million times. Sometimes I embrace it and walk away from a conversation feeling on a lowly human. Other times I ignore it, actually, reject it. I’m like, ‘who do they think they are? They don’t know what I’ve been through. They don’t know what I’ve achieved. If they stopped subscribing to society’s ideals for a minute, they’d see my successes have been made on my own terms.’
Even then, I sort of know, you know, that I’m mad because the sole cause of that rage has nothing to do with the other person. It’s just me. I’m sub-consciously thinking, if I were them, I would think this girl hasn’t got much to show for her 23 years on the planet, or like, she doesn’t seem to stand up for her own values much.
It’s always just me and myself arguing with each other, fighting for and against the same ideals, wanting a whole lot more out of life for each other.
You know what? Fuck it. Fuck the system. Fuck concern. Fuck lego. Fuck escaping all the time. Fuck the stranglehold of others’ opinions. Fuck my own anxiety.
This is where it all starts again. This is where I start doing things because I love them: drawing, painting, frolicking, working my ass off to ACHIEVE MY OWN GOALS.
You don’t need to do things for others to make them like you.
You can attract people by just having a good time, doing your own thing and exuding that self-satisfied, self-made radiance that is emitted from positive individualism.
I mean if I just stop, here and think about what I want and where I’m at, just me without any comparisons to anyone else, I’d say I have the building blocks (temperament lego pieces, creative ability lego pieces, future goal lego pieces), to lead a really positive life. If I stop worrying about the worries (the opinions of me, the things I might forget, you know, the fucking milk) and all that, I can just stop and enjoy the sunshine on the trees, which is now, actually, raindrops…
Who cares if I eat junk food? If I want to eat it, I can. I don’t have to eat it, either. You know? Who cares about the previous relationships that hurt? They happened and they’re gone and they’re not going to hurt me again. If they do, who cares? I wanted them in my life, they might have come back and they might have left again because that’s just what they wanted. They don’t have to stay with me just because it’s going to hurt to see them leave.
Loss really hurts when you think you can’t afford to let it go.
Realistically the loss of something doesn’t actually clear a big, gaping whole in our lives that are filled with so much.
You can always afford to let it go, unless it’s your dream. The one you keep fighting for, the one that makes your heart race and makes you feel good.
Don’t let go of the dream, just let go of the junk that’s getting between the ‘now you’, and the ‘you’ you want to be.
No more: ‘I can’t even imagine what they’re thinking right now.’
A lot more of: ‘What do I really want?’
‘What do I envision?’
‘Is this what I envisioned?’
I think if I want to stop drinking so much, I need to first quench the thirst to escape reality so I better create a reality for myself that I love. Maybe a reality I get drunk in love on, eh eh?
Fear keeps our expenses high and our feet firmly planted. We limit ourselves when we think about prospective travel but we don’t limit ourselves when we think of our daily expenses which can mostly be significantly reduced.
Swimming in something bigger than me / swimming from something bigger than me.
weightless / empty
I have tried the Nikes and the Birkenstocks, the things and the trends; but nothing fills me Like the rhythm of the tides and the immersion of the ocean.
Leaves of grass- Walt Whitman "I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain’d; I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition; They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins; They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God; Not one is dissatisfied—not one is demented with the mania of owning things; Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago; Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth. So they show their relations to me, and I accept them; They bring me tokens of myself—they evince them plainly in their possession. ... Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. "
I feel like we're different veins on a much larger leaf. We share the spine to make a much bigger pattern. We will grow together, from the same sources, parallel but separate; individual and bound. Dependent on the balance of the other, like we have always been
Just so you know, I'm a free spirit and I'm going to be really fucking successful.
Reality is not okay.
I’ve learnt that not many people speak the ancient language of shit chat. And I miss speaking my mother tongue so freely. Anytime you would like to shit chat pls shit chat to me.
I got stuck in (a past) conversation and shit.
A quick goodbye post-coital, pre-serious, anti-gravity: Hi sleeping beauty! I'm about to head off. I'm glad I met you. It was good to be reminded of pleasant feelings stirred up by good chat and non micro penis sex. But I was thinking about your analogy: if a fish is far less dull than all the other fishies, why would you risk the chance of not encountering the sparkly fish again? Even a sparkly fish is indiscernible in the glimmer and specs of a vast great ocean. I hope to see you again. Even if you're insane. Normal is sort of dull anyway.
Regarding comment, 'catch a good one and then release it back into the sea'
The feeling of moving: 'on the road again'. Throwback to the day I followed three amigos across Spain to end up in Barcelona. My heart told me to.
Getting lost here somewhere in the maze that is the metro made me realise why I love travel. The uncertainty; the discovery; how cool it is to be first impressioned
Wanderlusting hard
Is it too restless to never stop Is it too greedy to want to see it all Is it too thirsty to want to know it all I have stopped and my heart still flutters I am afraid of nothing except to have of nothing to be afraid To be safe is to be still and to be still is to learn without haste Comfort is warm, comfort is not hungry; Comfort is knowing exactly where you are But to be stagnate is uncomfortable Bless my fertile heart with the nutrients of travel Challenge my mind with the uncertainty of the unknown and the logic of survival Let me grow like the vibrations of the earth that expand as they echo as the reach farther and farther Let me not be still Let me find peace in the rhythm and the movement Because I want it all; though not to take, but rather to give. Find this generosity and make it grow Let me grow And never stop growing.
One a day keeps the doctor away…
Janis Joplin
I think I just found my muse.
The art of deviance. Sociologists found them rebels' causes. There's always a reason. It seemed so right to listen to New Order while reading this.
