October 13, 2015
Philosophy, the internet
Recent events have forced me to reexamine the way i write and blog. The most glaring is the sporadic nature. My pen to paper output vs online is unbalanced. If writer is to be a description included in how I describe myself, discipline is of vital importance. My mantra has been to improve by 1% everyday, In some facet of my life. Practice 1000 hours in writing. !0k is an impossibility due to my age and other obligations. And most importantly 500 words everyday. That’s a minimum. It’s exceeded in my offline life but not within the confines of this media. Not having access to the internet other than WIFI demands a discipline lacking in my overall life.
With that in mind, the promise i make to you is to post every other day. Bare Minimum. That will form the habits necessary for me to grow has a writer and person. All of this was triggered by the possibility of having to change my medication. Which terrifies me. This blog and others have been a safe place to retreat to. Striking the balance between universality and personal details gets my head out of unhealthy places. It also to starting to look like the one of the few options open to me now. At 51, I have become redundant. Just another fact of life for those of us getting older in an interesting digitally dominated age.
There it is good reader. Thanks for sticking with my spotty output and often failed attempts of writing. I have made a conscious decision to merge my love for the chewy Founding Fathers prose and the attention short conciseness of modern usage. Many times it ends up trapped in the wilderness between the two. Some is truly cringeworthy. Even if this is a shout in the emptiness, my voice will be stored somewhere. My legacy.
August 29, 2015
Bipolar, Life lessons, mental illness
basic needs, Behavior, Bi-polar, choices
Definition of a friendship. A series of questions. How do we choose them? A mystery. It’s like asking why certain women catch my eye. Or why I was lucky enough to have three of them love me. That it happened is good enough. Friends are like us on some basic level. Appearances are misleading. Are we lacking something, real or imagined, they can provide? I can’t tell a joke. It’s all about timing. My friend from the Navy lives in Minnesota. Haven’t seen him in 20+ years. But I spent three years being a Martin to his Lewis. The straight man. Complementary not antagonistic. That trust and endless games of Cribbage formed the framework that allows our friendship to stay alive. Casual conversations filled the structure to withstand the troubles any close relationship suffers.
A driving force compels our subconscious to seek these people. A integral component in fulfilling our basic needs for safety and belonging. Someone to have our backs. Friendships are an unequal equation in constant motion to achieve balance. I’ve have very few close friends. Personality. Circumstance. Mental illness. Not knowing what or who I am. A lacking of clearly defined core values. All pieces to a puzzle. When no balance can be found, it all falls apart. That’s the painful part of friendship. Losing it. Which is what just happened.
Met by accident. Soccer was the starting point. Funny, No filter. Cooks. Athletic. Well traveled. Except for last, everything I’m not. All this had a great appeal from my recent social isolation. Fitting in is a challenge. The observer sees but doesn’t interact. Life is a contact sport. So what could I bring to create a balance? The answer was not much. There has been a nagging thought since before the marriage fell apart. Was a portraying myself as a victim? Given my childhood it’s a very real question. Living in the chaos caused by a outwardly functioning mental ill father leaves scars. Along with certain coping behaviors. Which outside of that setting aren’t very healthy. A handed down family recipe that didn’t start with the best ingredients. Time to tinker with it.
Medication has quieted the crazy in my brain. Patterns emerge. I never pulled my weight in too many relationships. Not easy to admit. It’s caused a great deal of pain. Lots of good intentions with very little follow through. I wasn’t a good husband. Or friend. The thing about lessons learned is the ability to change. Some of you might be put off by this filtered fairly brutal honesty. Again is this playing a form of a victim? I just don’t know. The more information about Bipolar that’s presented to me, the more I understand certain behaviors that inform my reality. Mental illness is a chronic condition. Not disease.Those can be cured over time. Understanding the complex structure of the brain is growing everyday. Maybe in a hundred years they’ll have a corrective procedure. Until then I’ll still be making mistakes.
If my lost friend reads this, I’m sorry for trying to live off your life or accompaniments. I ignored every clue to back off. Good luck with all the plans you have.