Rather miserable family health profile/history, not at all sure I wish to experience a 'natural' end...

[Resilientbibliophile]

Hello - I'll try to keep this short even as I typically drone...

As of late it's been difficult to see forward to the extent of how many, or more pointedly, how few years remain of my life. I'm closing in on my fiftieth year, while in a physical sense and if seen on the street one wouldn't carry away the impression I was so on the edge of anything; i.e. I appear well enough, am height/weight proportionate, nor do I have habits or inclinations towards drugs or alcohol that would undercut reasoned hopes for a long life.

Why the worry or rather fixation then? My father died at 39 y.o.a., his brother at 42, the uncle's only son took his life at about 36, while my mother died after a truly horrible and extended experience of diabetes that seen up close was a route almost devoid of dignity. Very few people visited or strictly valued the presence of my mother; i.e. while hardly a mean or strictly critical presence somehow undeserving of love, in the same breath she didn't exactly radiate light or imprint upon the lives of others in a memorably positive way. It just seemed she existed to suffer - and I couldn't strictly do anything to help even as I was often the only one on the scene. She lived only to 63, but really hadn't much quality of life for many years before that.

I wish I had a great capacity to do what I'll call 'the Jim Fisk thing'; i.e. use what knowledge I possess of the family history to wholly embrace life chance consistent with altering and enhancing self-care to the extent that in a manner of speaking 'odds are beaten'. The truth though is that I struggle greatly to do even the minimum, while the light others radiate in this regard just overwhelms me even as I might appreciate and envy the sustained capacity to focus others might bring to bear upon comparable circumstance. It seems too much to ask; i.e. almost impossible given I can link the practices and concepts to poor life quality in other realms even as my environment is physically neat, etc.

At present I'm about as isolated as one can be. No visitors, no calls, few emails. The idea of waiting for historical health legacies to close in as some kind of undeserved punishment for a non-life lived doesn't sit well at all. By comparison, the idea of exerting some control in relation to 'when' I go carries with it a certain appeal. Functioning with some dignity and freedom one moment, and then not strictly existing; i.e. this seems a good deal. At one moment 'ON', and then for evidencing my informed choice, throw to switch to 'OFF' and be done with matters. There - at least I wasn't some passive blob of protein waiting as the walls closed in.

I try to read, I try if you will to lend textured context to my life for cramming in as much secondhand experience and insight as I may, but I find proximity to others just living their lives quite difficult. At present I have a rather difficult neighbor who I've recently learned is no less than 89 years of age. Independent she remains; i.e. such an advantage it would seem even as I'm ignorant of her particular life narrative. So many years afforded then to synthesize and process all that might be experienced, so many years to make a positive mark and potentially live well - or so it would appear.

This said, what a narrow-minded, corrosive and crabby presence she is. There have been times I've simply wanted to slip this person an anonymous box of cookie mix consistent with affording her some light duty and positive means to reach out versus her blanket condemnation of everyone and everything. How is it that the gold star community scold and gossip gives off light sufficient to have a support network when I fail so miserably by way of contrast? I try to lend dignity to my circumstance and situation, but am painfully aware that no one is in the stands cheering me on...

Summing up, why is the 'secret to long life' somehow disconnected to conventional iterations of virtue, to say little of rarefied conceptions of personal and intellectual worth I harbor within? How does one live when so little held dear is even noticed let alone agreeably validated? All I know is that I'm exceedingly tired and struggling right now. I'll leave my message at that even as I could go on. Thanks...

M.

 

[TruthSeeker]

I am 12 yrs your senior. Started therapy 2 years ago- diagnosed w CPTSD. I’d pay to be younger - because I feel that I’ve unknowingly wasted lots of time. However, I know that wish is pure fantasy. So I’m determined to make every day count. That thinking didn’t start until I made a plan to get out, work on socializing( take art classes) and decide to live. Prior to that, I remained in my bedroom and merely existed without purpose. I made a plan to change and so far have stuck to it. Consider writing a plan for changing those aspects of you that aren’t working 4 you.?
Then follow through. That worked for me.
Good luck!

 

[Keming]

Most folk don't navigate and order the world by physicality. They navigate and order by relationships, connections to people (except, hopefully, when they're behind the wheel...). Which oddly means the ignorant village gossip has a full life because she interacts with 20 to 30 people. She doesn't question their worth. They simply are. They pulse with information, and she pulses back, and because of her ignorance and limited imagination she's never able to predict the world around her. The spontaneity and novelty of village life - which we can predict and dismiss with a week of exposure and categorizing personality types - never gets old to her. Her limitations allow her to be continually titillated. Her days are thus full.

While we, the physical and cognitive, question, compare, analyze, evaluate. It's a one-sided activity - we aren't engaging with the things we study. We only observe them, and proceed with our inner workings.

It's a puzzle that's too easy, and it has less impact on our world than graffiti on the wall.

And it's a puzzle that's... upsetting. Their lives are so chaotic. Almost empty. This grandchild had a flute lesson... as if no child ever practiced flute before. So-and-so is getting married, but we know the statistics of marriage, we've tallied their personalities. They have four years, two of which won't be happy. I've met people in the workplace, on campus, at various activities, and within a few minutes I know them, know their responses and behavioral habits, their body language, their verbal ticks and tells, their cognitive patterns. To my estimation, I'm yet to be wrong.

I can't bear proximity, socializing isn't just difficult it's actually undesired. Their existence has no meaning, no lasting importance. I know it, even if they don't.

And yet.

As much as I'd appreciate peering over the castle walls to squint at the sweating peons below, I can honestly say that the most rewarding things I do in a day, week, year, is a tiny act of kindness.

Because if no human life matters more than any other, that means no human life matter less than any other, too.

Mine among them.
Yours.
Theirs.

If we crave validation, we have to exist in a spectrum others can see. Enter their world, however briefly, and have positive effect there.

So we compliment the pharmacist's assistant. It might be the nicest thing she hears today.
We fix someone's computer. He was using the wrong resolution on his desktop.
Edit someone's work. Give feedback, as constructively as we can without demanding a standard they can't reach.

And maybe they bring us a bottle of wine on our birthday, and leave again. They saw us. We saw them. The world got a little brighter for two people.

There is no absolute metric. There is no guide. Whole civilizations have tried to define these things and failed.
There is only the experience of the individual.

I hope your experience becomes warm, and rich, and full.

Mine isn't, yet, but I'm working on it. A therapist, psychiatrist and the folk here are helping me. Things are better than they were, and will get better yet. And while I'll never be the social, jovial man at the pool hall or the myopic village gossip (shudder), I'm going to find my own definition of 'full' and 'well-lived.'

Hope to see you there. I'll bring the wine.

 

[TruthSeeker]

Most folk don't navigate and order the world by physicality. They navigate and order by relationships, connections to people (except, hopefully, when they're behind the wheel...). Which oddly means the ignorant village gossip has a full life because she interacts with 20 to 30 people. She doesn't question their worth. They simply are. They pulse with information, and she pulses back, and because of her ignorance and limited imagination she's never able to predict the world around her. The spontaneity and novelty of village life - which we can predict and dismiss with a week of exposure and categorizing personality types - never gets old to her. Her limitations allow her to be continually titillated. Her days are thus full.

While we, the physical and cognitive, question, compare, analyze, evaluate. It's a one-sided activity - we aren't engaging with the things we study. We only observe them, and proceed with our inner workings.

It's a puzzle that's too easy, and it has less impact on our world than graffiti on the wall.

And it's a puzzle that's... upsetting. Their lives are so chaotic. Almost empty. This grandchild had a flute lesson... as if no child ever practiced flute before. So-and-so is getting married, but we know the statistics of marriage, we've tallied their personalities. They have four years, two of which won't be happy. I've met people in the workplace, on campus, at various activities, and within a few minutes I know them, know their responses and behavioral habits, their body language, their verbal ticks and tells, their cognitive patterns. To my estimation, I'm yet to be wrong.

I can't bear proximity, socializing isn't just difficult it's actually undesired. Their existence has no meaning, no lasting importance. I know it, even if they don't.

And yet.

As much as I'd appreciate peering over the castle walls to squint at the sweating peons below, I can honestly say that the most rewarding things I do in a day, week, year, is a tiny act of kindness.

Because if no human life matters more than any other, that means no human life matter less than any other, too.

Mine among them.
Yours.
Theirs.

If we crave validation, we have to exist in a spectrum others can see. Enter their world, however briefly, and have positive effect there.

So we compliment the pharmacist's assistant. It might be the nicest thing she hears today.
We fix someone's computer. He was using the wrong resolution on his desktop.
Edit someone's work. Give feedback, as constructively as we can without demanding a standard they can't reach.

And maybe they bring us a bottle of wine on our birthday, and leave again. They saw us. We saw them. The world got a little brighter for two people.

There is no absolute metric. There is no guide. Whole civilizations have tried to define these things and failed.
There is only the experience of the individual.

I hope your experience becomes warm, and rich, and full.

Mine isn't, yet, but I'm working on it. A therapist, psychiatrist and the folk here are helping me. Things are better than they were, and will get better yet. And while I'll never be the social, jovial man at the pool hall or the myopic village gossip (shudder), I'm going to find my own definition of 'full' and 'well-lived.'

Hope to see you there. I'll bring the wine.

@Keming Well thought out and stated. Full and well lived-sounds like my goal of contentment. Way to go!

 

[Mach123]

My "health legacies" have come to get me as I always expected they would. IDK what to say except the things I love still work and I passionately persue them in spite of everyone saying I should have moved on and grown up long ago.
It's a one on one game for me. Everyone else is just an inconvenience that needs to be overcome or avoided.
So now I'm hearing you can fight this and all that stuff. I'm just feeling tired of fighting.
My current relationship takes up almost all my cycles it's just so much work.
Going through all the therapy and getting some ideas that make things work a little better has been interesting.
This afternoon the doctor is going to tell me if or not he should cut out my sex life and the percentage probabilities regarding life "after." I'll have to decide at the end.
I was depressed most of my life.
I'm not bad right now. I'm not really depressed as my wife is still interacting with me.
It can be good or great or bad right now, we did a lot of fighting.
But that's it. That's what I'm interested in. That's what I do. Everything revolves around it, working on it and keeping it going.
I can keep going. I'd do it again. Being older hasn't really diminished it. There's always a way.

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Greetings,

Appreciate that I value all textured and well-thought out responses afforded. My world would be much poorer absent such investment. Know that I am thankful that others would write to carefully express their views concerning much.

-

Consistent will not wholly losing my mind, on some level maybe I cannot strictly compete with those who savor a interpersonal connectivity mosaic and have a wall of photographs to match. Maybe such is rooted across generations, perhaps they had an outgoing personality from the start, while structural aspects of identity may well have afforded outlet and affirmation consistent with feeling good in the company of some in-group or overlapping and complimentary identities. So too I'm not sure one can be coached to strictly pursue it beyond what I've attempted; i.e. to fill the felt void given the pursuit of found family is an ongoing thing. Some further words on the topic follows consistent with seeking community and trace validation are scribbled in and may be mulled later.

Work process, work effectiveness, etc. must in my instance bear more weight of expectation than perhaps it should, while the major challenge faced is something Alain de Botton relates in a book I'm currently reading on the value of studying the work of Marcel Proust. Paraphrasing a few lines from How Proust Can Change Your Life, perhaps my goal isn't strictly happiness, but productive unhappiness to the extent that past experiences and longing for better can energize creative assertion and textured reflection. Much of what I read is terribly messy and will take time to synthesize, hence the time element is all the more important on this basis if no other. Certainly it's possible that someone such as myself could be said to 'be on the spectrum' for evidencing Asperger's Syndrome social cluelessness or a poorly developed capacity to read social cues. I don't know really, while what love I've felt at times seems too much projection absent authenticity. I know I'm not the complete package, although as time passes some aspects of my person haven't so much evolved as they've hardened. Like some of the gifted literature I've perused, to an extent one must focus on those realms where one is most effective even at the price grudging acceptance of weaknesses visible elsewhere and deficiencies that might not strictly be put right.

Moving along, I don't live in a cave strictly speaking even for scant social contacts, although I definitely experience something akin to double-consciousness to the extent that only automotive hobby interests that are freely accessible receive much in the way of validation. Anything rooted in public policy analysis, education, what might be termed the dysfunction of white working class/lower middle class culture, etc. doesn't receive water or light in my world, while commercial and accessible isn't going to do it for everyone please know. The majority can be wrong; i.e. so many referring to the same book and staring at the same blank page. This never sits well with me, while efforts to find community for creative and sustained assertion have met with difficulty even as I continue to try. Sunday Assembly (sort of an Atheist 'church' if you will focusing on community and public service), meetup.com, MENSA, Ph. D. program flirtation, lecture attendance, art house film, etc. are/were tapped, but then again I'm not strictly radiating light and affording anyone a life affirming influence, let alone carrying on a my person a bottle of wine. Much more of a cold fish here, the stuff of some H. Ibsen drama in all likelihood. Some people will be more reserved, while an excess of charisma can in fact do damage.

Looking at a wall absent of personal photos can't be tallied here as evidence of character defect even as the skills deficiency is very real. Fuller explication would reveal real weaknesses in terms of what friendships/networks/material stood to be worked with across much of my life. While I wouldn't deny the felt worth others place in comparative worlds rich in social connection, in part I have to keep my distance given I don't give off much warmth, likely embody aspect of what is termed 'asymmetrical development', and always 'view the glass as one-third empty' even as others step lightly through life. If I had a daytime television show, the ratings would be abysmal!

The tapestry of my social mosaic is definitely short of a few characters for the death of many, while living members sought definition apart and away from a very destructive legacy and are like-disinclined to engage in mutual support schemes that most would just confidently call baseline love and respect consistent with maintaining reasoned ties. Each sibling spun off in a different direction (who could blame them?), while eight to ten-minute telephone conversations timed to a birthday observance makes for thin relational gruel. Efforts to laboriously construct what is popularly termed 'found family' has been a hit and miss affair, although some excel in this regard and fashion from scratch what is needed. Again, I'm not trying to devalue a sound and coherent approach applicable to some, but rather I'm voicing reservations regarding the utility of such concerning the parameters of my own life. My P.R. facility consistent with putting on and maintaining a brave face is slipping, hence the initial thread post.

There wasn't a strict lack of assertion in relation to engaging the world via professional investment, for to work as a librarian in both a public and academic environment in decidedly depressed socioeconomic circumstance, each day was filled with engaging complete strangers consistent with recovering whatever situation was at hand and at very close range. What I did for years was much more than donating time or gathering with others of strictly like mind. I did and continually work to synthesize conceptions and realities of disempowerment with work practices that might effect society for the better. Michael Moore established the basis for a career for filming a documentary concerning the plight of a certain heavily impacted city in Michigan, while for working both in and within close proximity to it, I saw a great deal. I wish I could claim that I empowered and helped many transcend highly disagreeable life circumstance, but I'm not at all sure I was really that effective even for eclectic and impassioned application. Most of my reading heightens sensitivity to matters thought amiss, but sadly doesn't guarantee effectiveness comparable, let alone in excess of what other do or have tried. A box seat to misery is however afforded, while news of the massive restructuring of the college I worked at and within has my head spinning given I'm recalling how so much miscarried there. We didn't graduate students, but rather we staffed a student debt manufacturing facility.

Spinning further, the sociological studies pursued independently mix with the overwhelming memories consistent with traumatic recall, and hence I'm typically struggling mightily to function well enough to be a reliable actor able to speak of the weather or embrace the workaday concern of another. I can be surrounded by people and maintain a basically humane attitude consistent with responding to each individual at whatever level they might be at. This much understood, for being so near to a very fickle public day-in and day-out for years and having been caught unawares many a time, a baseline level of trust in my fellow man just fell away. In a sense one can hide behind a technologically facilitated content filter and keep perceived threats at a distance, but how is this a solution looking forward? It's great stuff to read about - but to find any like-attuned company right close is very hard indeed. I'm sure I give off a highly charged professorial vibe, although having a book-lined office and playing classical music isn't all there is to boundary maintenance, let alone relaxation of such when opportunity arises.

Some P.T.S.D. worthy experiences were picked up across the two work environments hinted at, while encountering administrative resistance and denial compounded a felt sense of dislocation and underlined a felt sense of disempowerment. Especially given the political climate of the day with some neighbors literally flying a TRUMP/Make American Great Again flags, I'm not at all confident that help is strictly coming. For years I felt like I was living in what might be termed 'occupied territory' doing what I may to keep things under wraps and under strict control, although I beg the reader to appreciate that there are limits to 'putting on a brave face', 'just faking it', and continually searching for commonality when respect is undercut again and again for some awful viewpoint aired. If I could subsist on conversation picked up at the barbershop, then I'd take a towel and a shave every other day. Abstract gains, concrete failures then...

Sorry for the long message.

M.

 

[TruthSeeker]

@Resilientbibliophile You are very intelligent. I have a part of me that is very intellectual, took every class of interest till I was mid 50's. It was that part that separated me from my feelings....and boosted my self-esteem. I prided myself in language and my educational achievements, and my perfectionism. You are an excellent writer and so glad you are here!


I'm getting ready for a trip and just got 2 cats to prepare for their babysitters, while I'll be traveling. Can't wait to travel to my family reunion, but only a small handful of cousins will be there that I know....and they live over 1000 miles away. I have no loving or involved family near me. No pictures on my walls of a long family tree. That is a huge void, and it makes me very sad sometimes, as I don't see my daughter. I divorced, my father was kidnapped, and my brother and father were abusive, anyway. My hyper- critical mother is dead..and.there is no one in the family left with whom I have a face to face relationship. I wish it had been different, you know, growing up and having that warm, comfy feeling, but I'm making friends and will travel with my best friend, soon. Do you ever get to travel? I'm headed to the west coast to dip my toe in the Pacific-Canada/Alaska then back to Denver. Can't wait. I feel freest and happiest away from home. Home....has been a depressing place. I'm trying to change that...by making it "me" and feel like "me." My last home with my x husband.....was totally his home. I just shacked up there....making my home reflect my interests has been fun.

How are things going for you today? I just finished doing a little water coloring-I always feel so much less stressed afterwards. Water colors was the hardest thing I ever did-next to abstract art because neither have rules or an answer key. The watercolors just decide how they will be. "Cringe" but the more I do it, the better I get and the more accepting I am of the outcome (without the key to evaluate it as good or bad). My art really does reflect my emotions. So glad I'm doing more. How about you?

I was wondering, do you participate in other creative hobbies like music (play an instrument or write music on the computer), art (clay, painting, collages, etc.), poetry, or perhaps photography, sewing, crafts, decorating, or any number of other positive endeavors? I find them great diversions from reality-the reality of loneliness. If so, how do they make you feel? What do you do to redirect yourself when you are feeling down?

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Thanks for the kind response(s),

Perhaps simply out of habit for repeatedly processing my environment in a depressive way. my 'hobby existence' is a bit fraught too. Inner directed to the max really, while the tedium of some of the limited social scenery availed for being invested in this hobby and that has markedly amped up my experience of isolation over the past year. Something HAD to be done, although what I suggest now might only become clearer as I write. In an oblique sense I'm describing myself of course, although the disdain that creeps in is rooted in much actual stuff I've witnessed. Without the sociological works I study I doubt I'd ever have the perspective to recognize and push back a bit, although all I have to do to secure something of a better existence certainly comes off as a daunting challenge.

Back to the scene then. In lieu of a more balanced existence, many local men rooted in my general geographical circumstance live lives heavily invested in the scale model/automobile-related hobby scene. Not that enthusiasm so-manifest is wrong per se, but more than a few live out the stereotype of never leaving their parent's basement, of wishing only to inherit the parental pad, of struggling to establish anything like adult relationships with the opposite sex (if so-oriented), etc. Many evidence indifferent attention paid to career development/achievement to fund their all-consuming hobby interests, are scarcely able to care for themselves for poor life skills, and usually exhibit a real talent for alienating family precluding hope of assistance even when circumstances are dire.

For those so-immersed, appreciate that every aspect of life is channeled through the automotive hobby for scarce understanding and appreciation of anything else; i.e. colors aren't the colors of nature, but rather period paint codes used by major Detroit manufacturers, conceptions of beauty rooted in the body shapes of favorite automobile designs, etc. For a bit of application such people 'find' each other and take a measure of solace for interpersonal discoveries manifest so, but in the main this is an emotionally stunted and deeply inbred group habitually adverse to developing out by any reasoned definition recognized by a wider and better-balanced society. It's like sitting amongst a small number of live frogs within pot of water soon to be brought to a boil. Problem - what problem might you be suggesting my fellow frogs inquire?

A subtle dimension to all of this is that I picked up different historical interests for gathering/reading material from earlier periods for visiting second-hand/thrift/antique shops across my earlier years, and by so doing, basically set myself up for more closely relating to other 'hobby-types' several years older than myself. In a manner of speaking, I am the help or rather the pick up social service personnel on the scene when things come unglued for this aged enthusiast with no family, limited social skills, an uncontrolled hording urge, etc. If finances collapse for such a person, if what limited ability they possess to maintain or support themselves falters, I've found that there isn't enough I can give to correct the proverbial list this person and that has assumed. All this and never is there any discussion that matters could have been different, that alternate paths might have been explored, etc. Mix in the absolutely crude and base political proclivities of the average hobby-mad male deeply desiring to identify with power (since they have none themselves) and the ugliness on show is just overwhelming. If I provided illustrations of some of what has been said by one person in particular, the message contents otherwise on view would be immediately and justifiably flagged as offensive. Oh gosh - I just want OUT!

About one-year after a particularly fierce blow out with a hobby someone with a life in free-fall, it seems I'm down to about 15% of the interpersonal interaction I had or have with the scene. It's pretty stunning; i.e. finally discovering the resolve to push back a bit equates to being shut out or simply not being part of the conversation. Years wasted really plumbing the psychological depths of people and a scene not really worth of the interest. I didn't realize just how many calories I burned on the telephone speaking about 'friends' like some teen-aged high school gossip, and when it was understood that I just didn't want to 'go there' conversationally for breaking ties, then lo and behold - there was nothing to talk about given I myself apparently am not of great interest. I can do a pretty fair impersonation of Dick Cavett for putting others first and for turning the dial up in relation to evidencing interest in others, but clearly I'm not offering up enough or my particular mix of qualities is somehow synthetic. Change literally had to come, although I'd not really positioned a net to catch myself when I jumped.

Strange really to relate that I generally like my mound of hobby stuff and interests, although I find that the small number of fellow enthusiasts that I call friends number only a half-dozen locally and maybe that number again accessed online. I collect automotive racing titles from the early postwar era up to about 1980, period magazines like-themed, racing programs and posters, engineering titles again like-themed, etc. Scale model interests encompass scratch building aspects of this or that project from architectural plastic sheet and rod stock, aluminum and brass, etc., although much akin to my nonfiction interests, at some point nothing I strictly do is light and fun. One could call my work 'severely representational' with all the strictures suggested weighing heavily upon me to the extent that there is little that is carefree about my application. Always pretty serious then. Thanks...

M.

 

[Keming]

Consider a second "hobby" with less rigorously defined products.

For a long while I studied Carolingian masculine costume for the purpose of accurate reconstruction, and only stopped when rudimentary task management began to fail. Social and intellectual opportunities were modest, but pleasant: period costume designers instructed me on stitch types by region, and provided sources; whilst I provided "enrichment" by discussing economics, trade and human migration patterns that might have influenced regional costume. Had I continued (and published), my peers would have included archaeologists, museum curators, costume designers, and some very energetic (and frequently drunk) folk in the mid-west (pre-viking migration costume specialists are a diverse bunch).

There's another issue at play, though. You seem to value only specific types of interactions, in specific circumstances. Those interactions are valuable, but perhaps there are other interactions that might have similar emotional, rather than intellectual, value. I can't discuss Carolingian economics with my downstairs neighbour, but I can play DOTA with her. 'Tis a fleeting human connection, but connection none-the-less; and my mood is better for it.

 

[TruthSeeker]

@Keming Good point about all interactions being valuable! I find it is the act of creating that gives me the most positive satisfaction, and pride in my accomplishments. It helps me see myself more positively. I think fun is inherently a major part of the healing process.
It also gives me something to talk about rather than dwelling on my negative outlook, family, situation, etc.

@Resilientbibliophile Can you name 2 things in just one sentence that would be an interesting hobby to do or two fun classes/workshops you'd take to learn a hobby you might enjoy?

In my case, my two favorite hobbies are working with clay and painting watercolor scenes.

If you don't have a hobby, what two things might you like to do?

 

[Resilientbibliophile]

Thank you for the interest and replies...

Struggling to answer the question of two things I might like to do, I'm finding it difficult to identify anything that simply wouldn't be the further fleshing out of aspects or facets of topics held dear. It's like I don't even know where to start even as I must. Maybe it would be easier if somehow and up to this point in my life I'd realized some conventionally construed definition of success or achievement, hence anything else even fleetingly considered feels like an abrogation of responsibility. Gosh - I'm trying to come up with 'two things' and not weasel out of what is a reasoned and direct question consistent with illuminating pathways forward. Mindfulness strategies and practices consistent with meditation haven't really 'stuck' or convinced, although rest of some kind would be nice! When medicated, sleep is availed only at the cost of inviting very realistic 'dreadmares' to enter into my consciousness - bad enough that I don't want to dream. I'll wake up and ask myself why I'd ever want to sleep? Irregular cat naps are indulged in instead...

Back to the books - sorry! Too often I read something and I feel as though the writer/social theorist is quietly challenging me to make my contribution consistent with 'giving back' - and anything less should be personally construed as immoral if my life is to have any worth at all. That most wouldn't sense such or relate to the material so makes me that much more convinced it's true! I'm not sure what to do about this, while I'd never pretend that I have a handle on things in this regard. It isn't a 'fame' thing, it isn't a 'vision' thing, but know that it definitely has dimension; i.e. I read and detect shortcuts taken, oversights made, self-celebration barely disguised, inadequate lit. review sorely in evidence, disregard for the sound viewpoint of others, an inability for many to accept both complexity and compromise, etc., and yet habits of critique are no strict substitute for creation. A coherent mentor network was never found or cultivated - and now I feel trapped. Self-taught or autodidact tendencies carry risk - great risk then. Help, help, help...

Moving along, the day that was witnessed me casting hobby items in two-part resin employing urethane molds created earlier. Slave to my standards, mostly it's about results and little more; i.e. it works or doesn't. Some otherwise casual film viewing left me cold, while faint memories of Saturday evening prime-time serial killer profiles, etc. televised to no constructive purpose witnessed me shut off the television right quick. How can the network anchors pull in some side income for showcasing depravity as some indirect reward to those who'd cause turmoil past, present and future? If I wasn't reading my stuff I wouldn't notice, but I do and hence it's wickedly repellent. The times are really just so awful, while it seems my default setting is 'more regimentation', 'more academic rigor', etc. without heed to the price paid for badly neglecting the social dimension of life even as awareness of the cost paid is evidenced here.

Some meetup.com walking groups were tried in the past and may be tried again, but then a very weird and out of control relationship occurred and is frequently recalled that again has me skittish and off-balance even as I try to gently reengage with humanity. A social science Ph. D. holder within the space of an open marriage was let in, and yet what havoc even as I'm 50% responsible by definition. A new meetup.com group relating to some graduate level public policy coursework another was intrigued by was joined days ago, but for reviewing the membership ranks/rolls, I wonder if others will be capable of contributing meaningfully to what is said or mulled. It's like I have an appointment to witness a traffic wreck...

Droning further, for years I plowed effort into whatever passed for 'my work' convinced that at some level and at some time I'd be able to capitalize upon what was long construed as investment, and yet much has misfired. It happens too that the moment my underdeveloped interpersonal skill set is shown up that I struggle to contain what can only be described as a combination of rage and deep regret. Reiterating in brief, working as as both a public and academic librarian and for long being under the magnifying glass of scrutiny as to how amenable/approachable I was, whether or not I harbored amenable/normative interests and viewpoints consistent with whatever standards were at play, etc., has left me skittish and deeply ill at ease with the public. In a manner of speaking, people are either not to be trusted, are disinclined to work/think with much vigor, or are so much better versed and skilled on the interpersonal front that I can't hope to compete. A lot of this is hard-wired into my system - and it's just deadly.

Not immune to magical thinking tendencies, I silently imagine reading about how people and institutions interrelate would somehow stand in for one-to-one interaction consistent with my better functioning. Frequently too I'll metaphorically throw my hands up and just withdraw or go silent if others easily dominate a conversation or room, or as I might say, suffer a glandular disorder for evidencing too much charisma and not enough sense! It's strange to carrying within my person a mix of tendencies and proclivities that would politically equate to a left-of-center orientation mated to what could likened to severe cultural conservatism consistent with being an absolutely brutal snob. I can speak consistent with being light and civil, but I just don't feel anything. It's like I'm some Dale Carnegie-engineered ghoul in the social realm. It's part of how P.T.S.D. is expressed by myself; i.e. too few social victories per se, far too little in the way of social supports across years, continued study absent reasoned outlet, all manifest as a deep aversion to connect to others on anything but a strictly instrumental basis. I have an awful lot of work to do, and much territory to cover if I'm ever to be a successful person. Thanks for listening...

M.

 

[Tinyflame]

all manifest as a deep aversion to connect to others on anything but a strictly instrumental basis. I have an awful lot of work to do, and much territory to cover if I'm ever to be a successful person. Thanks for listening...

You are a successful person if you can be true to how and who you are, and be able to tell who that is when the pain is reduced. Connection holds risk, something that can't just be abridged intellectually. Sometimes starting with a plant or pet is a place to begin.

As to the title of the thread, I remember Thomas Merton saying along the lines of we will know only a brief second before the end that it will be so. It is said that connection most deeply enriches life and makes it meaningful. Maybe that is because you will be able to see that you are accepted (and treasured- it will be by some, not all) by just being yourself. Congruent with, and including, your strengths and weaknesses.

(Tbh, most people don't relate to other's strengths, more so their weaknesses or woundedness. Which revealing helps you both.)