Right Now...It's Like This.

(Journal Entry - 3/4/2020)

Let’s see if I can sum it up. This could be tricky.

The topic was my family. Already, an interesting beginning. Growing up with my family was an exercise in keeping up appearances. My brother and I always attended private school. So, we were surrounded by the elite. Our fellow students came from upper-class homes. We did not. Don’t get me wrong, we were upper-middle-class, but we were not on the same level. We lived in a very nice house. My friends lived in mansions. However, every effort was made from as far back as I can remember to make us seem like everyone else. So, any problems, or ripples in the surface, were quickly handled, made to go away, and not discussed. Everything was smooth again.

In seventh grade, a new student joined my school. His name was Joe. At the time that Joe entered our class, he was going through puberty hard, like nothing we had ever seen before. His voice was changing at what can only be described as “Brady Bunch” intensity. This went on for a very long time. When he finally came out the other side, he was basically a man. This wasn’t happening to anyone else. This made him different, and therefore ostracized. Joe was also an actor. He had already started appearing in plays around town, and he would later attend our local theater arts high school. Given my attraction to creative people, he and I hit it off right away. Due to Joe being seen as different by both the other students and their parents, I was told by my own mother not to be friends with him. This was my first overt experience with the attitude of don’t do anything to stand out. Follow the mainstream. Do what is expected.

This attitude has followed me throughout life. Most obviously in my choice of a career path and really any type of employment. My passion is theater. I am drawn to the arts. That is where I come alive. My family does not see this as a real job. They appreciate creativity in others. They enjoy theater. They just don’t necessarily want it for me. They want me in the corporate world. My mother has often made the point to me that life is not about having fun. This has been so instilled in me that I often think that is what I want, as well. I am often proud when I get one of these good corporate jobs, because I know it will make others proud. The problem is that inside, even if it’s not a conscious thought or emotion, I am supremely unhappy. I started one of these corporate jobs last June, very pleased with myself. By the end of September, I couldn’t get out of bed, because I had slipped into a deep depression. Some months later, I had once again entered active addiction, which culminated in a suicide attempt. Maybe I am making connections where they don’t exist, but I honestly don’t think that I am.

Now, the obvious question here is who cares what your parents think? You’re an adult. That’s a very good question. The issue is primarily financial. At the moment, I can’t survive without financial support. I am on disability from my job. So, my paycheck is only 60% of what it should be. On top of that, I am in an expensive outpatient program trying to get myself back on my feet. So, it is literally impossible for me to make it financially at the moment without help. This puts me in an awkward position. I find it very difficult to completely write off my family’s opinion when they are paying the bills.

I am very close to a new job. I hope. If it doesn’t come through, then we are in an entirely different situation that throws this whole thing for a loop. For the sake of argument, though, let’s say I’m about to get a job. It’s a good job with a very good theater. It’s a management position, and while it wouldn’t pay as well as a corporate job would, it will pay well enough to live. I would need to live modestly, though. I would not be able to live up to the standard most likely that my parents would deem acceptable, and there’s the issue. Or an issue. I don’t actually need that much to get by. And, yet, I have been raised with this desire for a nice place with nice things and nice toys, because that’s what successful people have. But, I don’t actually need those things. Since the beginning of the year, I have shared a bedroom with another person. I haven’t used my car. I haven’t had a television. I still eat out too often, but I certainly don’t have to. I get by pretty well making sandwiches for lunch and dinner. I really don’t need much to be happy. My point is, if I get this job and I am willing to cut some corners along the way, I think I can support myself in a lifestyle that will get me from one day to the next, and I will do it all while feeling fulfilled and positive about myself. The question is, if that is the situation, am I finally willing to accept some disappointment from my family, if it means that I am healthier in the long run? At my age, I certainly think it’s time to find out. When I left my second interview for this job, feeling great, my mother sent two texts in reply to my news. “Sounds good” and “Do they have insurance?”

(Journal Entry - 3/3/2020)

As you can see, I have gotten out of the habit of writing in my journal at night. And, what happens when I get out of the habit of doing something? It falls by the wayside. One day becomes the next, and so on, and so on. I have gotten out of the habit of writing in my journal, and reading, and meditating, and praying. And, what’s worse, I can feel it. It’s a palpable change within me. To be fair, I am trying to get back on track today. To do all of the things that I have let slide, And, I will try again tomorrow. If I can put enough of those days together in a row, then I’m right back where I need to be. I know that. As easy as it is for me to get out of a habit, it’s just as easy to get right back into it. It’s just a matter of deciding to do it. So, this is me...deciding to do it.

Here’s my problem. I came to this new city, and I had nothing on my schedule. It was a blank slate. I spent my days walking around the city and going to meetings. I was Captain Recovery, which was fantastic. So, the next step in Recovery 101 is to fill your time with positive things, so that you stay out of your head, which is a dangerous place to be. I’ve been doing that. I have taken on volunteer activities. I have become active in a church community. I have actively pursued a job. I have joined a gym. I have taken on service positions in the meetings that I attend regularly. I talk and meet with my sponsor. I try and get together with my friends from Warrenton when I can. I look for groups on Meetup.com in which I can take part. I have regular therapy sessions. These are all positive things. But, it’s a lot! And, I haven’t even started working yet.

(Journal Entry - 2/28/2020)

We are gathered here today. To get through this thing called life. Electric word life. It means forever and that’s a mighty long time. Ah, Prince. I’m not sure that I appreciated him as much as I should have when he was alive, even though I saw him live once...in really good seats, too! I sure do appreciate him now that he is gone, though. Especially those words.

I found out today that my Uncle Greg, who is not really my uncle, but he is my godfather, has cancer throughout his body and most likely will only be with us for a few more months. He’s another man that I probably did not appreciate as much as I should have. He has always been incredible. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him in a bad mood. Never without a smile on his face and a big laugh. He and his wife and have been great friends of my parents since as long as I’ve been around and have been as close, if not closer, to me than most of my actual family. This is true for most of my parents’ close friends, almost all of whom are called aunt or uncle by me and my brother.

I have made the comment to a few people today that I think this might be the first death that is really going to affect me. That sounds a bit cruel considering the fact that all of my grandparents and one of my actual uncles are no longer with us, but somehow it’s not the same. It’s sad when a grandparent passes away, but you sort of expect it to happen eventually. You know it’s coming. And, I guess I should have known this was coming, as well, but I just wasn’t prepared for it. This is like losing a parent, and maybe that’s it. This is like losing a parent. And, if he is about to die, what does that mean for my own parents?

(Journal Entry - 2/27/2020)

I started tutoring math this evening for a local organization. I’ll be doing it once a week, and I’ll be working with the same student each week. He’s a third grader, and he came in tonight scared to death. He did not want to leave his mother’s side, and he did not want to speak a word. It took quite a while to get him to sit down at the desk. I told him that it was my first time, too, and that we would figure it all out together, but I’m not sure that made him feel much better.

Over the course of the next two hours, we ended up working really well together. I taught him all about the concept of greater than, less than, and equal to. I used my favorite trick of the alligator mouth, which still sticks with me to this day. We played some hands of battle using playing cards, where you had to slap the bigger card in order to win the hand. He seemed to enjoy that a lot. At the end of the session, he gave me a high five without me even prompting him, which I thought was something adults always had to do. It was very sweet when he asked me if he got to work with me next week, instead of having to start over with another tutor.

Two months ago, I was no good to anyone. Two months ago, this mother would have not let me anywhere near her son, and she would have been completely correct not to have. It’s amazing to me what such a short span of time can do. I know that this is the real me, and it only shows how powerful and insidious the addiction and mental illness truly can be, but wow. That’s a long way to come in 52 days.

(Journal Entry - 2/26/2020)

This is the thought that occurred to me as I was killing my phone interview today. Killing in a good way, mind you. I sounded great. I was answering every question exactly the way it should be answered, and I personally would have hired me on the spot. Now, why would that be the thought that was rattling around my head at the time? Could there be residual issues with my self-worth that I still have left to deal with?

I used to be “someone that people wanted to follow,” as a close friend once told me. I’m getting back there, but obviously I don’t quite believe it yet. Not fully, at any rate. I wasn’t lying in the interview. I mean, not completely. I may have inflated my accomplishments to some degree, but no more than one would in any interview. I never lied. The problem is that I simply don’t believe that I deserve the recognition that I have actually earned. I can do this job, and they would be completely justified in wanting to hire me. So, why do I feel like a fraud?

Why is it that on stage I can play dominant male roles so convincingly? Why do I come off as so confident in the characters that I play? Let’s face it. I’m not that amazing an actor. The reason is that that character trait exists within me. That’s the reason that people have wanted to follow me in the past. That’s also the reason that people have been so let down by me. That person does exist within me. It just sometimes seems that I can’t keep it up for very long. And, then, they see behind the curtain. Is it possible to access that person and have it not be a facade? I’m not entirely sure, but I think the answer is probably yes.

(Journal Entry - 2/25/2020)

Why do I feel like this? I’m laying here on the bed, and I just don’t feel right. Today is arguably a good day. So, what’s going on? I received a call today from a theater company which offers professional shows, classes, and camps for children and young adults. They have an open position. For the most part, this position manages and oversees the box office and front of house. However, looking at the job description, it also appears to be tied into fundraising, education, marketing, and even some IT stuff as far as the website is concerned. In other words, it’s a whole lot of work. And, it’s a management level job.

Now, the first thing that should be said is that I shouldn’t even be putting as much thought into this as I currently am, because the only thing that has happened is that I have received a brief call setting up an initial phone interview. But, for the sake of this journal entry, let’s ignore that logic. When it’s the first call that I have received from anyone, its importance is instantly inflated.

The question is why am I feeling down, instead of excited? And, is the fact that I’m feeling down a warning sign, or is it completely unrelated? Would I be unhappy at this theater? I can’t tell. It IS a kids’ theater, but it seems like a really good kids’ theater. The work that goes into these shows appears to be extensive, and the reviews from critics and response from the community is tremendous. Plus, its mission is right up my alley. It ties right in to my Personal Mission Statement which reads as follows:

“My mission is to find a sense of personal fulfillment and leave a lasting legacy by supporting others and inspiring them to cultivate their talent and creativity through a leadership role in the theater and entertainment community.”

So, this seems to work? Right?

It fits well with the volunteer work I am doing as far as tutoring children. It would look great on my application for my Master’s degree. So, what is bothering me? Is it the wrong theater? Is it the wrong position?

OR, is absolutely nothing wrong, and I’m already sabotaging things again? Is this a great move, and the idea of things going too well scares me? Is it too much responsibility, and that scares me? Is there something comforting in the idea of sitting in a darkened theater simply grabbing the occasional cup of coffee and making sure to write down whatever the director just told that actor?

I just don’t know. All I do know is that I can’t walk around the city all day every day deciding what meeting I want to go to next. I can’t only be productive by volunteering where I am welcomed each day with a smile and a pat on the back, because I’m going above and beyond just by showing up. If working at a theater is the absolute pinnacle of adulthood that I can achieve, then I should at least do that.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 3/3/2020)

(Journal Entry - 2/23/2020)

Tonight is the night of the new moon, and it’s a good time for a fresh start. Time to plant some seeds.

One thing I would like to focus on a bit is my giving. Giving of my time and of my money. Recently, I have felt a call to give, and it is not that I have been over-giving. However, I feel that perhaps I have been giving a bit indiscriminately. I have limited resources, and I would like to direct those resources in ways that they are used as an extension of myself and my values. This is tough for me, because ultimately, I feel that everyone deserves support. I feel that picking and choosing the causes and people that I help is almost selfish and unkind on my part. I think it is important, though, that I start to become more intentional. I feel that will make the act of giving more beneficial to me. An equal energetic exchange for my efforts, if you will. See, even as I write that, it sounds awful to me, but I think it makes sense.

A second intention I would like to set is to expand my devotional and spiritual practice. I have been meditating regularly now for some time, and I would like to continue that. In fact, I would like to increase the amount of time that I am meditating steadily. I am happy with my journaling at night, but I would like to do more. I would like to really begin the Artist’s Way in earnest and follow the structure of that program. Finally, and I feel most importantly, I need to begin a practice of prayer. Morning and night. I’m not positive what that means for me, because I’m not sure yet exactly to whom or what it is that I am praying, and I certainly don’t now what to say. Despite those concerns, I think it’s important, and the fact that I think it’s important is enough for me right now to know that I should start. The rest will develop over time.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 3/2/20)

(Journal Entry - 2/22/2020)

This has become one of my favorite phrases. It doesn’t have to be she, of course. It applies equally well regardless of gender. Tonight, it just happened to be a woman to whom I am going to apply it.

The phrase was taught to me by my sponsor, because in the AA rooms, you encounter all kinds of personalities, and some are more difficult to deal with than others. You get the people who simply spout nonsense, the people who go on and on and take up more than their share of time, and of course the people who are outright inflammatory. It is very easy to let these people upset you, especially when you are a newcomer. However, if I accept that I am a broken person in many ways, then it is easy to accept that other people must be broken, as well. So, when someone does something that I don’t understand, or something that goes so far as to anger me, I now approach it from the viewpoint that that is simply the way (or one of the ways) that that particular person is broken. With that mindset, it makes it much easier, at least for me, to accept them for the person that they are.

Tonight, I volunteered by checking people in and selling tickets at a fundraiser concert for an organization that helps the homeless. There were twenty or so of us that volunteered, and everyone was given different tasks. An older lady decided to assign herself the task of sitting next to me, even though my particular job did not need any more people, and in fact could not really accommodate any more people. This did not seem to dissuade her.

She then proceeded to make my job more difficult as guests began to arrive. She simply handed out tickets to people, rather than checking them in by name. When I tried to check them in, which admittedly slowed down the process a bit, she explained to me that it was not necessary, and she knew this, because she had been “coming to this concert for 14 years”. The fact that this was contrary to the organizer’s instructions did not seem to concern her. Then, when people needed to purchase tickets, she quoted them a price that was a dollar less than the stated ticket price, if they were paying cash. I still haven’t figured out where this policy came from, but it did not seem to exist in the ticket selling software that I had in front of me. Anyway, we made it through the night. Everyone got in to see the show, and the organization made money. So, I suppose everyone ended up happy. As you can tell, though, I still have my issues with the woman.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 2/28/2020)

(Journal Entry - 2/21/2020)

It’s strange, because nothing is going on. I can tell I’m feeling a bit anxious, though. I know when it happened, but I don’t know why. I was sitting in an AA meeting. It was a good meeting. I felt at peace. I was even thinking about sharing my thoughts on a Higher Power. The meeting was a Beginner’s Meeting on the first three steps. So, I felt comfortable sharing. Not that I typically have a problem with that anyway. Halfway through the meeting, I got a text from my former landlord in Asheville. All he said was that he was still receiving some mail for me, and he asked me what I wanted him to do with it. He wasn’t upset. There was no tone of frustration. Just an innocent question, but instantly, I was pulled away from the meeting mentally. Why?

Why is it that the “real world”, and by that I seem to mean anything that dates back before January 1, 2020, still seems to have such a negative effect on me? And, why is it that I still consider that to be the “real world”? As if the life I’m living now is in some way my attempt to hide and avoid a reality that is out there waiting for me. I don’t know that I can explain this, but it sure seems interesting...and something that I will need to discuss with someone.

It’s possible that the text had that effect on me simply because my apartment is still my one loose end that needs to be tied up, but that’s not entirely true. The job is a loose end, as well, and it doesn’t seem to affect me in the same way. Also, the apartment is not necessarily a loose end. Worst case scenario, I have to pay a couple more months of rent for a place in which I’m not actually living, and then I’m done with it. Work is probably a much bigger issue, and yet, no real anxiety.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 2/16/2020)

(Journal Entry - 2/20/2020)

There’s just not that one thing tonight. I’m thinking it might get harder and harder to come up with a single topic for each journal entry, but I can’t let that slow me down. I’m enjoying the fact that this is now my tenth day in a row to end the evening with a 400+ word post. So far, I’ve been pretty proud with what I’ve put out there. This may not be one of those times, but I can’t let that stop me from writing. They can’t all be gems, folks.

So, let’s see. Just some random thoughts. Tonight, I attended an orientation session for a tutoring program at which I am going to start volunteering. I’m going to be working with a student teaching them math and reading. Or, I guess probably two different students. One, math...the other, reading. But, you get the point. I’m excited about this. It’s nice to think that I’m actually giving back in a way that can be defined and seen. Past monetary donations have been nice, but that’s not something you can point to and say, “I did that.” This just feels different.

I spoke with several people from Warrenton today, and that was really nice. It sounds like we are all pretty much in the same boat. Desperately trying to keep ourselves busy enough that we stay out of our heads. A place where none of us feel comfortable spending too much time right now. Everyone I spoke to sounds good, though, even if a bit scared to death. It’s ok. I know that fear well. We share that fear, and it brings us closer together. One common theme in our conversations is how difficult it is going from a place, where you are so bonded with people and emotionally open and raw, to the “real world” where most people simply don’t live that way. It’s a tough transition to make. I also got the news that two of us have fallen by the wayside, which is very sad. One went back to drinking. One actually overdosed on sleeping pills. Both have stopped responding to anyone. I can only pray that they will be ok and eventually find their way back.

I had a good conversation with Astrid tonight. Long and short of it is that I need to focus on the present and let the future take care of itself. I know, a common theme. Didn’t we just address this a few days ago? Yes. The answer is yes. Don’t be surprised when it comes up again next week, though.

I really want to go see a concert, but I’m getting so funny about spending money that I haven’t been able to press the Submit button on the ticket order. That signifies a definite change in my behavior, especially since I found an outstanding deal on a single ticket. We’ll see. The nice thing about going to a concert alone is that single tickets are typically pretty easy to find. So, nothing I have to decide right now.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 2/13/2020)

(Journal Entry - 2/19/2020)

So, tonight in the meeting that I attend regularly, I saw a decorated war veteran, who has to be in his 80s, at the youngest, break into tears. This man is a Colonel. A Medal of Honor recipient. He is a man that I am going to assume does not cry on a regular basis. He told a story about attending the inauguration party for President Bill Clinton in 1996. At the party, he was seated with other Medal of Honor winners, and as he put it, the alcohol was flowing freely. He did not drink that night. He was on his 9th step at the time. In AA parlance, this is the step where you make amends to those that you have harmed in the past. After the party, he was walking home with his wife, and he stopped her on the street. He turned to her, and he said, “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop drinking.” This was the point in his story where he had to stop, because he began to get choked up.

I wasn’t sure why this moment struck me as powerfully as it did, but it stuck with me. So much so, that I shared it later that evening in my group therapy session. I mentioned how emotional it was for me anytime that I heard pieces of “my story” from someone else’s mouth. This is something that actually happens to me often in meetings, and it hits me every time. In this case, it was not simply the emotion, but it was the emotion surrounding those words, “I couldn’t stop.”

When I shared this in my group, another member pointed out to me that perhaps the reason it had affected me as much as it did is because this was a man I could look up to. A man who deserved respect. If he suffered from the same character defects that I did, then maybe I could forgive myself just a little, and I think he’s probably right. I think there’s some truth to that. Obviously, this addiction that I have inside of me can affect anyone. It doesn’t make me weak.

(Twitter - @kyle010620 - 2/9/2020)