redemption

open eyes

A few old pals started a punk band called Open Eyes, but that’s not what this is about.

I’ve lived a few lives, as we all have. I consider myself to be a young man but that is really an assertion made by comparison – like, my dad thinks I’m young and my daughter does not… so after kicking around this rock for 4 decades ‘n change I’ve gone through the cycle of life & rebirth a few times, and I’ve recently had my eyes open to my addictive tendencies and I’ve even gone so far as to do something about it.

It’s when I’m in the company of other addicts who have not made those same assertions that I am completely rocked by reality. It’s shocking to me to be faced with these things, for everyone around to know there is a sizable problem and for no one to do anything – mind you, it’s not everyone’s place to do something so much as it is the addict’s place to ask for help – but in a case like the one I’m thinking of, the need for intervention is palpable. The person in question was a newcomer to the group. Not a newcomer in the sense of someone we’d brought in, but more in the sense that he’d injected himself into the group, with baggage and insecurities in tow.

There were 2 extenuating factors at play. The first is that nobody in the group knew him long enough to be able to offer any insight (and the opportunity did not present itself), and that this person, when nestled into their intoxicants, was incredibly irritating.

We were all nice, and debriefed in private about our irks with this individual but as an addict in recovery I now feel like I should have done more, somehow. Showed more love. More compassion. Something… but I’m also faced with the notion that I; and addict in recovery, am outnumbered in the presence of an addict who’s high. It’s me vs. him + my addiction, which is 2 on 1 with me in a disadvantage.

I’m also faced with the idea that I’m somehow feeling more compassion toward this person whom I’ve just met than I am with people I’ve known for years.

I don’t know that I really have the answer to these types of conundrums other than to say this: If I have a problem with someone, the problem is mine. It’s MY problem. The root idea of that sentence is ‘I have a problem.’ And I have to deal with it… and as much as this is something I am re-learning in recovery since I don’t have my old crutch to lean on when I’m stressed or annoyed or what-have-you, it’s actually something my dog taught me.

I learned early on in my dog training experience that my dog is perfect. The only fault my dog has is the fact that he will not live long enough for my satisfaction, but even that is a projection of my insecurities. I’m getting sidetracked. My dog is perfect. He does exactly what he’s supposed to do – it is I who have issues with his need to chew on things, or where he chooses to relieve himself, and so I am the one who needs to show him where & when these actions are appropriate.

I have a list of things I want my dog to do.
He has ONE thing he wants… and that’s to spend time with me.

Addictions are not much different – they have a function and a purpose, to ease pain, and in all honesty these addictive measures work. They just bring other problems along with them as an unfortunate byproduct.

But in the end… love is all any of us humans want.
Dogs, too.

hindsight

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the cliche phrase ‘hindsight is 20/20’ – the idea of looking back on an event, or series of events, and concluding that you have much more clarity about those events with the knowledge and understanding you currently possess, comparing it to having ‘perfect’ 20/20 vision.

I take issue with this. I think it’s wrong.

There’s a word, and it’s a popular one these days, that completely negates the idea that hindsight is perfect. That word is trauma. A great number of details have been misremembered and incorrectly associated with events surrounding trauma, causing what everyone around us might conclude is an ‘irrational response’ right here, in the present. I’m reminded of a situation in a music store, where a loud banging sound caused a war veteran who happened to be present, to dive onto the floor, before getting up, finishing his transaction, and bashfully leaving the store as fast as he could. As far as I remember, nobody in the room knew he was a veteran.

I suppose you could say that the veteran might have concluded, after hitting the deck, that in hindsight, he’d acted irrationally… but I’d wager a guess that if it happened again a day or week later, his response would be the same in spite of the fact that he is fully aware that he is not in a war zone.

Furthermore, there have been studies that show that when we remember an event that happened in our past, our brain networks change in ways that actually alter the memory of the event. This means the next time we remember it, we’re not remembering the event, but we are remembering the last time we remembered it.

When I was young, I had a difficult relationship with one of my parents. The fact that this is no longer the case has very little, if anything, to do with hindsight. Although I have the ability to see things differently now, it’s not because the passing of time so much as it’s because I get along with that parent much better now, to the point that I subconsciously don’t want to think of them in an unflattering light.

What can we do?

Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I believe that the answer for me is to do whatever I can to not hold a grudge, and to cherish positive memories. I want to give people, and myself, the opportunity for redemption for wrongdoings.

We like to believe that we can change for the better as we grow and learn, but somehow justify denying other people the same opportunity for redemption, like we hold the monopoly on self improvement. I’ve been doing that my whole life…

And in hindsight, that doesn’t make much sense anymore.

I think one of the most dangerous things you can be right now is a lonely GenX’er. Over the past few years, sprinkled evenly between the apocalyptic number of boomer-aged celebrity deaths has been an even match of 40 & 50 something’s taking their own lives. It happens so often that nobody asks how anyone dies anymore, we all just assume that another casualty of depression, anxiety, and loneliness sat in our midst without our knowledge.

I can’t speak to the state of mind of someone toeing up to the ledge at any age, because I know what dark thoughts are and I know that they’re not all the same. What I can speak to, is that doling out guilt by way of telling everyone to ‘check in on your friends‘ can’t possibly work – this coming from someone who has always answered every question about my own well-being the exact same way: I’m fine – and when I do so, it’s either because I actually am fine, or I don’t want to get into what is not fine.

I’ve taken to planting seeds. Or trying to, anyway.

I try to speak openly about attainable notions in mixed company. I’ll often be caught dropping lines like “everyone is doing their best” because I truly believe they are. I’m always down for both light and heavy conversations about things like self-improvement, goals, and likely what is most important – redemption.

Redemption. The notion that it is entirely possible that I am not the same dipshit I was when I was 22 years old. The very idea of human advancement and growth is predicated on the idea that we can not only do better, but that we can absolve ourselves of our wrongdoings.

I won’t pretend that the vultures don’t gather, rubbing their talons together at the prospect of squeezing money from every searcher among us, because that’s a real thing and a real concern.

However, the notion of meeting someone on a spiritual level and being of service – just humans being human to each other – can turn things for anyone. No church or holy book required, and not just checking in on people, but actually seeing them – looking them in the eye – and relating to them on a spiritual level that goes beyond stylistic choices, upbringing, body fat percentage, musical taste, or any other judgement that can be passed.

I used to think and say “everyone’s just waiting for their turn to talk” but the truth is that they’re waiting to be heard, and seen, and respected – which, if we’re being honest, respect is a suitable substitute for love, and love is what we really need.

All this from a borderline-reclusive introvert.
I know, I know… but there’s redemption for me, too.

For what it’s worth, I’m not posting this in an emotional response to the Christmas season, or New Years, or any of that, so I hope this isn’t lost in the holiday well-wishing shuffle. I actually wrote this at the beginning of November.

Much love.

escaping reality

“I’m beginning to find some balance between escapism and reality and it’s mostly because I am both wrapped up in a busy life, and emotionally supported. “

Once upon a time I was a kid, and through a strange set of circumstances, I acquired a guitar. It cost me 8 months of flyer delivery and it saved my teenage life. In service of that, I elected to learn absolutely everything I possibly could about the instrument and I got really good at it. Still am.

This became the template. I dove in deep with various girls what would receive my attention, booze, pills, vintage automobiles, rock & roll bands, fitness, and food. Clearly not all of these things are bad things, but they’re not all good things either.

I’m beginning to find some balance between escapism and reality and it’s mostly because I am both wrapped up in a busy life, and emotionally supported. This isn’t the summer I wanted, but it seems to be the summer I needed. Through varying circumstances, I am not playing anywhere near as many shows as I’d hope to – but it seems fortunate that I am available to learn the ropes of a new job, and to navigate some changes at home, as well as contend with an injured drummer. I’ve also found the desired time to tend to my 1962 Ford Fairlane and get it up to snuff in a way it hasn’t been in a long time.

That Ford is also where I tend to escape to.

We all have our ways of coping with things and I know I am a project-based kind of person, so I’ve got no guilt around the balancing of my car and my obligations but I can almost smell my desire to just crawl under that car and stay there for days and just hide. The first indicator of that is my desire to work on it is greater than my desire to drive it, if only slightly. Don’t get me wrong, I want to drive the shit out of it (and I do!) but there is an immense sense of satisfaction that comes with taking something apart and putting it back together and making it work better by doing so.

As a father, I hope my kid gets bitten by this bug, too – if only because it’s been so helpful for me, but I have to understand and acknowledge that just because it worked well for me does not mean it will work well for everyone.

In other words, I want to have common interests with my child, but I fully understand that the work that needs to be done to maintain that is mine, not theirs.

So if this hobby stays mine, then it stays mine… but it still serves me, and helps me set myself straight so that I can serve others.