Can't Go to Bed; My Brain Will Eat Me

As far back as I can remember, I've needed a long routine to get to sleep. Even now, simply plopping down on the bed and shutting my eyes doesn't cut it. I could stay awake for hours on end. As a child, it was because I was aware that there were things I was missing; I think that's a common reason why children don't want to go to bed. There are still things happening, things to do. Bed is boring, and thinking is difficult and frightening. When we're left alone in the dark as children we begin to imagine creatures in the closet, or see shadows on the wall. I think that this combination of not wanting to miss out on what's happening in your absence, with the fear and stress of what your mind does when it's left to it's own devices is fascinating. Like so many things, we keep the same habits we had when we were children just in a more grown-up way.

Don't let the word "grown-up" fool you. It's just as absurd, if not more so.

When at a pub or a bar with friends I am usually the last to leave and I encourage everybody to stay late with me, despite whatever it is we all have to do in the morning. If some people are going out, I must be there and I have to be there for everything. I don't want to miss a damned thing. If I leave early, I become slightly depressed and start thinking about going back out. This is, of course, very unhealthy physically, emotionally and financially. Nobody can be there for everything and trying to do so will ruin you.

Just recently I opted out of a trip out of town with my brother to visit my sister. Earlier today, I decided not to go out with a bunch of friends to the pub (mostly because I'm broke, but let's pretend it's because I'm being responsible.) Both things would have been very enjoyable and I'm sure everybody had a good time, but I felt I should have sit it out this time around. There would be other times to see sis, and there's a weekly trip to the pub. However, as soon as I was left alone I began to worry that I was missing out on something fun or that I was letting somebody down. Naturally, we all want fun. It seems, though, that I can't handle not-fun. I'm not speaking of misery or even boredom, just a certain lack of excitement or social interaction. It scares me in a very unique and very weird way. It ties my guts in knots and I feel like something about my identity is threatened.

You see, when left alone I begin creating new monsters and they are just as bogus as the ones I dreamed up as a child. As cliche as this sounds, I'm beginning to realize that my worries are not based so much on what people think of me (certainly a large part of how everybody behaves,) but much more so on what I think of myself. I am not saying that I hate myself, far from it, but that for all the meditation I engage in; for all my exhortation to others, I still worry about other people's perception of me. I still get anxious about expectations. When I am with people, I can keep these problems at bay, but only for a short while. Eventually one has to face these issues and you can either face them and realize that they aren't even real (which is easy to understand intellectually, but not quite as easy psychologically,) or collapse in defeat and failure.

I feel like I'm making small strides, but as it stands right now, I am still truly afraid of turning off my music, going home and turning my attention inward.

"Truth?", Directionless Pondering, Veganism and Angerless Fury

During my routine-ish swim today I was beginning to slip into the old, "what's going to happen in the future?" train of thought, yet it was unsettling for me in a completely different way than it usually is. You see, many things have happened recently. I have moved and entered into something of a new phase of things, income is happening but not exactly stable, my spiritual beliefs are on the fritz, there is an election campaign going on in my country that I am perhaps more anxious about than I should be, I have not yet heard back from the schools I applied to, and there are other, more private matters that make my future uncertain. However, it's different this time because it feels less like I'm not acting properly or taking things seriously enough and more like it's all an enormous hoax.

I have lived my life until recently under the notion that there is no such thing as subjective truth. I don't know what caused the change, but I can tell you that I was resistant to it because I considered subjective thinking to be wishful, fantastical thinking. It was simply not being realistic. Now I'm even struggling with the definition of the words, "realistic" and, "reality."

It feels as though every time I think about very basic things my mind strips it down. Every time that happens I end up with more questions and don't get anywhere. Yet at times I see a dog shit on the sidewalk and reach an astonishing conclusion. It's as though I'm trying to shoot at a target that can read my mind and moves out of the way every time I change my shooting angle. Then when I throw down the weapon in exasperation, it misfires and hits the target.

These moments come as a great relief, usually, but I can't tell you how infuriating it is to not be able to just sit and deliberately reach conclusions; to only be able to make a point accidentally. I couldn't even succinctly tell you why, exactly, I decided to become a vegan. It wasn't a thought out decision, or any one particular principle reason. I have vague ideas of how I can't justify it ethically, although I can't say it's unethical to not be vegan, either. While I know there are health benefits (and I feel fantastic), I also know that I have to take B12 supplements and more carefully monitor that I get what I need because I know we are built to eat animal products (although far less than we typically consume). Not to mention that meat is far more delicious than it has any right to be. It just seemed like a reasonable thing to do. It wasn't for bragging rights or to make me feel better about myself. It's kind of embarrassing, actually. I can't even remember what made me come to this conclusion, but I can't say it was an uninformed desicion either. I only know that I can't imagine going back to the old diet.

I can't look at anything the same way. It's like having a traumatizing or scarring image burned into your brain, changing the way you see things. Only it's not hurtful, just a little unnerving. I'm not exactly afraid or frustrated, just kind of off-balance. This new(ish) way of seeing things gives me intermittent intervals of complete fearlessness and seemingly unending compassion. Between those intervals, though, it feels like limbo. Not frightening, not paralyzing, certainly not nothing, just sort of... not.

It makes me want to find any school, bank, church, temple, office, political rally (even ones I support), day care center, box store, apartment complex, mall or gas station and shout at them.

"IT'S NOT TRUE! IT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE!"