THE AGELESS

I think in more than a few ways, I consider myself a very resilient person. Somewhere along the line, I developed a very large store of patience, and that patience has lent to me a lot of endurance when it comes to many different kinds of hardships. It’s probably worth looking into where that patience comes from, because I think many people who grew up with me would readily tell you that I was not a patient child. Looking back on it, I actually don’t know when that transformation happened, or for what reason. But aside from that, I’m allowing myself to exercise patience with myself today. It was a difficult day, and I will need to be resilient in the coming days. I feel like this crisis has been starting to finally impact me; and the stress is starting to accrue. I feel like I may have been at the wrong end of people’s bad attitudes one too many times today. The increase in stress might also just be my sleep schedule, but honestly, I’m not sure. We may want to try multiple avenues of attack on this one. I can consider trying to stabilizing my mood, and letting go of my want of control of situations at work. It doesn’t benefit anyone if I keep getting wound up. I had a few cravings to turn towards my vices today because of the stress, namely smoking. But I think I have enough built up in me to be able to quit that habit for the rest of my life, if I really put my heart and mind towards it. Let’s make a promise to myself not to fall off any wagons due to this stress. Every entry is a step forward. Here is another one.

It’s a question, because I think I’ve had something of a record of allowing myself to constantly start projects, but never finish them. When I have an idea that I find promising enough, there’s a period where I get so hyped up in planning, and the novelty of the idea, that I reach out to all the people around me trying to get feedback. And perhaps more often than not, these people see all this excitement amount to nothing. My pursuits are nothing more than a tease, with little to show for follow-through. I can hardly call myself a creative, if I’m not really creating. If I’m only demonstrating the shallowest, more showy parts of the process. And if I can’t produce; if there is no final product to speak of from my work, if my own drive isn’t enough to carry me to the finish line, then I have to admit to myself that I am not a self-contained system. That to some degree, the person I am right now does not have enough in him to push his ideas to completion by himself. There is an aspect of vanity, of need for praise and encouragement, that has to be fed into for me to work. When I think about it, I consider that there is a deep-seated insecurity in me that’s rooted in an inferiority complex I’ve had since childhood. I was the youngest sibling in my family, and more often than not, the youngest and smallest one in my friends group. And maybe because of that, or in addition to that, I had an ego, and I craved attention. I always felt like I had something I had to prove. I think maybe to the point that I glowed too much at the slightest bit of validation. I don’t think I hesitated whenever someone praised me; I accepted it wholeheartedly. Of course they feel that way; of course I had done well. I felt so, others should be able to see that. I have to admit that to some, that likely became insufferable. To the point that it became a major hallmark of my interactions with people; and as I interacted with people over time, I would have less people praise me for my good work. Maybe it was too big a risk of making my head big, and have to suffer through my resultant arrogance. I’m sure there were some instances of that. I could give myself the benefit of the doubt, and think that it’s possible that eventually my interactions with people just normalized, and we had fallen into our rhythms enough that we didn’t need to affirm anything for each other anymore. He was the best at ____, just as she is at ___, and John is at ___. We knew already, we didn’t need to be reminded of it.** But then even so, I have to ask myself why the need for constant validation existed in me; why is it that I languish when I feel my efforts are no longer worthy of praise (or further effort or interest) because others ran out of nice things to say. As an adult, I recognize that other people’s lives don’t center around mine. And we can’t always depend that people give enough of a rat’s ass to throw a kind word around. Many of us are just struggling to get by on our own, and are too (rightly) focused on our own situations. And I think that maybe this whole post has sounded so much like a pity party, up until this point, and it likely actually has been. But I am not convinced it needs to end that way. I don’t think that my experience regarding this is unique. And if so, there are others who would be able to push so much farther, if they were only given more encouragement. It would not be out of my power to give that to them. My own struggle would have to be to do so, without the expectation of ever getting it back. I think if I can get to that point, it would be the most sustainable, and the most humble approach. But I will not lie, and say that the weakest part of me does not crave a kind word. I may just need to remind myself that the strongest part of me doesn’t need it, and that to recognize that gives me the opportunity to take myself out of that struggle, if I can recognize it as irrational and harmful. To constantly fight against the parts of me that are self-destructive is the path to self-care, and self-sustainability. That is the end to which I need to constantly persevere, for myself and for no one else. Every entry is a step forward. Here is one more. *(Self-reflection: I can recognize that this blog is another project of mine, and to complete these reflections yield benefits that I will gain from, regardless of whether or not people are watching. This is something I give to myself directly, rather than to myself through others. This is an act of conquering vanity.) **(Self-reflection: I can never be too sure of the motivations others have for how they treat/treated me. I was not always as empathetic or aware as I am now, and even now, I still run the risk of misinterpreting others. We also have the added risk of corrupted recall, as a result of retrospection. Memories are fallible; draw upon them at your own risk. We can only be certain that we feel a certain way about those memories NOW, and that my current feelings impact my current situation.)

(EDIT: I wasn’t aware how much I had to say about this until I was already a fair bit into it, so this is likely to end up being something I tackle over a few days. Though perhaps not necessarily in successive days.) It is not something I mean to romanticize, so I will actively take efforts to make sure that I paint it in the most realistic light. To date, I would say that I’ve gone through three depressive episodes in my life. Each time had more or less the same symptoms: anhedonia, chronic fatigue, and brain fog being chief and the first among them to manifest. Because of how it manifests in me, if not recognized and responded to quickly enough, can lead me to reflexively socially distance myself, which can make recovery more difficult. I’ve been on the cusp of a depressive episode more times than just three, but I’ve been able to respond quickly enough to prevent it from cascading; those three episodes were the only times in which I had failed to mount an adequate response. Easily, the worst of these episodes would be the first. It had caught me completely unawares, and my lack of understanding of the condition definitely left me spiraling into a state that I found difficult to bounce back from. This first time had been triggered by falling into something of an existential crisis: I had been failing a few classes in college, and coming to terms with that failure and how it could/would start me on unraveling my future plans was something that younger me was not prepared for. In fact, I hadn’t been prepared for how difficult the compounded stresses of living on my own, whilst dealing with a vastly heavier workload than I was used to, being taught in a language that I was still struggling to fluently understand, would actually be. I don’t think anyone who had known me in my early years of college would dare to have called me someone who lacked confidence or enthusiasm in my work. I genuinely loved my coursework. But as those pressures would mount, and I slowly collapsed in on myself; progressing from failing one class in a semester, to failing a couple in a semester, to progressing to be cavalier with my grades in an attempt to accept being delayed in graduating and alleviating that pressure to excel, to eventually losing all motivation in trying hard in school. The depression only really began to take hold after I attempted to mitigate it by accepting my status as delayed. I am sure that there was some part of me that was just glad to be able to put aside my schoolwork and explore my freedom, but in retrospect, this ended up being unwise. Unfocused, I lost a sense of progression, and in doing so ended up on a slippery slope toward losing my self-esteem. As I began to crumble under the shame of my failures, I began to retreat further into myself, first losing my confidence, and eventually losing my drive. It became enough to merely pass my classes. And as I lost a critical part of me, that competitive part of me, I would withdraw from being social, or at least vocal about my troubles. I was stubborn about this, convinced that it was a problem that I needed to solve for myself. But looking back on it, it might have just been embarrassment. In fact, later on (much later on; several episodes later,) I would adopt a candor regarding my struggles with depression; and that openness would give others the opportunity to show small moments of empathy. These small moments, though maybe token and insignificant on their part, would be enough to give me reprieve enough to push for myself, and gain ground on my disease. But that strategy came much later. The first episode was hallmarked by a slow, descent to the bottom; and an even more laborious struggle to get my head back above water. I’ll continue on that later on, but recounting this has been an important step in the right direction. Here’s one more.

Since then, and up to the current day, I’ve been living with a group of my close friends. My best friend, Josiah; my close friend and Josiah’s fiance, Nesa; my close friend from high school, Hector; and a new addition (and one that has since grown on me), Laura, Hector’s girlfriend. Our shared experiences have largely been positive, and I hope that continues. Prior to this, I had been living on my own for a little over eight years. A large portion of that had been in a rented room on my college campus. The rest spent in a condominium I rented from a friend, a little bit off campus. Juxtaposing the experience of living with others vs living with myself, I’ve had a few realizations. Whilst I had been living by myself, I often shared that the most difficult part of living by yourself is the lack of accountability. No one is present to call you out on your bullshit. Your worst habits are magnified. Absent watching eyes, you are free to languish to your own ruin. And in many ways, I allowed that for myself. In freedom, I gave up a lot of care. Not just self-care, but honestly, regard (period.) for anything I could live without. I let friendships go. I let my grades suffer. I inhabited by vices. I let myself suffer as the world around me were left to the forces of entropy. Absent conscious effort, I may have been the worse version of myself. Though, my looking back on it, and casting an unfavorable light may simply be my way of washing my hands of an embarrassing memory. Still, the point I am trying to reach is that I felt that my isolation had a huge effect on my psyche, and when I was finally able to return myself to co-habitation with others, that I regained some of my better qualities. And in the challenges that present themselves with now living with others, I feel I’m cultivating in myself a better person. I volunteer to wash the dishes, and clean the common areas, and do so without announcing it, not because I need someone to owe me, but because I want to ease the life of others around me. I spend excessive amounts of money on quality ingredients whenever it is my turn to cook, simply because I want to push my skill, and in doing so, give my friends/family a brief reprieve from their other worries. Admittedly, this is also an area of pride, and I do very much appreciate the kudos when I do a good job. But in these small moments, I find myself unafraid, and train myself on pushing back any bit of unwillingness to make that extra effort, simply because it is for others. In the opposite way that I do not afford for myself. For myself, I am a survivor. I can forgo comforts, I can make sacrifices, I can give up so much ground in the name of laziness for myself, because I know what I will allow myself to suffer. And that threshold is deep. I allow so much less for my friends; if it is in my power, they will not see discomfort on my part. I apologize profusely for mistakes. I quickly amend my trespasses. Some people may say that these boundaries are unhealthy, but from what I understand of myself, it is a manifestation of my values. I don’t lack care for myself. My method of caring for myself is to uphold my values. To care for others, is one of my purest methods of doing so. And on that, I feel we will have more to say on later entries. Every entry is a step forward. Here is one more.

There is a purpose that I want to fulfill. Or rather, it might be more apt to say that there is a message that I want to contribute to. If there is one thing I think that the world needs now, more than ever, it would be a huge pivot towards compassionate leadership. It seems obvious enough in my position to see that scores of people, maybe more than in any generation prior, are willing to sacrifice and push for the betterment of others, especially those who find themselves disadvantaged, oppressed, or discriminated against. And that is no coincidence. There has been a cultural shift in my generation, as well as those preceding and succeeding mine towards the value of inclusivity and equality. Those values have been instilled in us, and we are very much carrying that forward. The problem, however, is that this is not across the board, and that we are still finding that there are people in our communities who don’t share this value with us. This isn’t okay, but the reality is that perhaps we cannot win over everyone. But for those who are on this message, the purpose that I want to contribute to, would be to underscore the importance of camaraderie with your fellow man; the strength that comes from lifting each other up; and the dangers of other-ing. I am aware that through my life, I’ve come across many such causes. Many other banners I had the choice to take up. And even others amongst those I’ve passed up that I feel strongly for as well. But maybe, none that I feel more strongly for than this. There comes a time, I believe, where we must simply make a choice as to which battle we will fight, and this is the one in which I join. In doing so, I hope that by devoting myself, and centering my purpose on a cause greater than myself, that I can live a fulfilling life. I can center my ego, my identity, even things such as my faith and spirituality on a cause like this. An ideal such as this one is strong enough to sustain you. Hopefully, eventually, my efforts will see others join my personal path in common cause. And it is towards that goal, by whatever means we have available, that we move towards. Every entry is a step forward. Here is one more.

That point is tied into my goals. I am trying to be a person who is even more principled than I already am. I find that for the most part, I am consistent with my beliefs, but in some ways I still cheat myself. If I am determined to be as ambitious as I am, eventually I’ll come to pay for it, should I not push myself. I fear that I need to make adjustments and put in truly impressive amounts of effort towards my goals if I am to make it. I am begging of myself to live a harder life, because deep inside, I believe the goals, the ends, to be worth it. I truly believe that if I compromise on my goals, that I will eventually live a life that I will end up unsatisfied with. If I do not push myself in a way that I can say wholeheartedly, that I had tried my best, then I know I will come to regret it. I think maybe the difficulty in this is recognizing that in order to do this correctly; in order to live that life, I need to move on from this person that I am right now. I need to truly transform myself, and leave behind much of what is holding me back now. And that terrifies me. But it is also necessary. For much of my life, I’ve felt as if I’d been gifted with so much potential, but spent so little effort in actually fulfilling it. I am wasted on this. Maybe it’s foolhardy, but I am determined to do this properly, and to struggle for each step forward. Each entry in this journal is another step forward. Here is one more.

My working definition of meditation is a controlled state of unbroken thought and action. As such, in a meditative state, I should be able to easily flow from one thought to the next, in a coherent manner, and in a way that naturally evokes a narrative for the reader. At least, I would hope so. In order to do so, I need to get used to recording ALL of my thoughts, including those moments in which I catch myself making mistakes, or correcting past thoughts. That may prove a challenge, considering it has been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to speak out loud my own vulnerabilities and worries. But in doing so, I hope that this also engenders a habit of vulnerability and honesty with myself. I can only hope that by doing so, I can keep resolved in myself, and allow myself to view my own person objectively. And so I might guide my own growth more purposefully. A third type of habit may come in handy here, and that would be to continue these meditations on a systematic and regular basis. Perhaps doing so every morning and night on weekends, and every night on weekdays would be an ambitious goal, but one that would yield the best results whilst still being somewhat attainable. I hope we can stay disciplined.

I think perhaps, it has been years, since I have given myself space to feel weak. There is weakness in that decision as well. Many of my current plans will force me to look deeply into my own struggles, so that I might better understand the nature of struggle. It will not be easy, but retraining the ability to put my thoughts to the page will be essential. I think somewhere along the line, I cultivated in myself such high expectations, that I’m beginning to verge on a level of perfectionism I’ve never before attempted to tackle. I can’t say if this is foolish, or doing so is necessary. I might just be that sold on my own ambitions. I realize that the purpose of this post meanders, from one concern to another, between paragraph to paragraph. I don’t know if this is a result of writing it in a state of sleeplessness, or if I am truly that divorced from my former skill in writing. I think we’ve succeeded in writing anything at all. It is a very low bar, but perhaps that is enough. It’s odd to feel as if we’ve bottomed out somehow. I can’t recall the last time I felt that way. Still, I am affording myself small victories today. EDIT: In this post, I’m also rediscovering the power of re-reading and editing. There is use to putting ideas to paper. I can consider this post a practice. Let us learn two things from this: 1) Not all output must be perfect. We can simply make it, call it a study, and let that be the end of it. 2) The fact that we’ve tried and recorded the attempt is important. Not all problems must be solved at first attempt. This is an effort at rebuilding myself; carefully, and thoughtfully. I want to rebuild myself. Properly, this time.