I haven’t really wanted to write in a while – either in my journal or on this blog. I told myself at the outset, with both, that this would never become a “have to” type thing. Because having obligations imposed on me (even when they are things that I would normally want to do or would lead to my good) is really an area of great tenderness. And, frankly, I don’t want to give that internal dictator a hold.
I’ve been feeling some neck and back tension today. The neck tension started as I began to write this. The back tension has been off and on. It started slightly before I asked a… – what shall I call him? I do not think it would be wrong, but only factually innacurate, to call him a friend… – so, a friend if he would be willing to speak with me. We have not spoken at length since the spring, for a variety of reasons – mostly having to do with my actions.
I have been curious for some time to hear and know this friend’s experience of me and of the things which led to the closing off of our relationship. He seemed at first very reluctant, and then less so. I too am reluctant – feeling a good deal of the fright of it, and wondering how it will go. But yet I respect him, and admire him, and I was in the wrong for a good deal of what led to our falling out, and I am genuinely curious as to his thoughts, feelings, and experiences… and so – though feeling the fear of it – I will take the opportunity he is allowing me.
The neck tension has diminished slightly. N had an excellent call today. So many things about the call struck me – but mainly things in my own feelings and experiences. At first I was… well, not overtly frustrated… but covertly. I wanted to give “evidence” and speed him along – what I told myself was that he was stalling, and not being 100% truthful… which is true, of course… but another thought is “why should I care? That is closed.”
I do not know if it was wrong of me or not. Others were feeling frustration, and expressing it. But I did not express mine, except to send one whisper to Stef providing a “fact” – which was true, of course, but absolutely unnecessary. I did not take care – in a call about honesty – to be honest first with myself about what I was feeling or experiencing. This is a hypocrisy that Stef talked about in the call as well: people who cannot see their own evils or failings in themselves see their evils or failings foremost in others. (Not that this was a great evil, but it is very sub-optimal. And if I expect people to be honest and forthright with me, how can that expectation be reasonable if I will not first be honest and forthright with myself!)
I began also to think about the husband-in-my-head. He’s been around for… oh, since about May? After the thing with N had ended and I got into therapy. I cannot always see him – when I am in denial I do not see him… and of course I saw him rarely during the Russia episode – but he has been around quite a bit lately. John isn’t happy with my slip today, nor indeed with my dinner plans.
It’s much easier to ignore John short-term than it is to follow his good counsel. Long-term… I know for certain that the consequences of ignoring him would be disastrous. I don’t think John is the same as the “husband” I dreamt of last week, but… I don’t know. Are you?
He smiled and shook his head no. That’s another thing – he doesn’t speak at all. But that is better, I think. He’s my better self: the one who knows all of this already. I’m the one who won’t admit it. :)
I’m feeling a little less tension. I’m going to go make dinner – what John suggests, instead of what I had thought idly of doing, which is more expensive and less healthy. He also wants me to go and work out. Which I may yet do.
I’m feeling a good deal lighter and happier, actually. I like doing what pleases him – and not because it releases me from tension… because it’s not a “removal of punishment” sort of thing. But just because I like it.
Ah, that’s what’s what. Because now I also want to journal a bit. It appears that the call and this writing unstuck a bit of a blockage.
I would like to speak with some of you this week. Could we, if you all want to, do sort of a weekly call on our own, perhaps? Just to chat, catch up, etc? I’d like that of all things. Let me know if you’re interested. :)
(note: This came to me in rather a profound flash. I had wondered why I was – am – so interested in Russia, as a whole and as a people – and at the individual person level. And why I chose to go there. I’m shaking now – not from fear or anxiety. I’m not sure why. Maybe just a delayed response to the cold. But this is what I thought about on my walk tonight. The “law” thing is something I’ve been thinking about… practicing contract law in places where there really isn’t any such thing yet.)
“Maybe this is just because I was raised by people of a higher psychoclass… like, self-aggrandizement or something because I function on a higher level than they do. But I don’t think so. The truth is… they just have no spirit. It’s been bred – beaten – out of them. The subway cars are really like animal cars. They sit there like animals. Or… no. No. The problem is that they sit there, but not passively. Every one of them seems to be actively scanning the other people there. Taking in their clothes, their hair, makeup – their status, basically. And behind that is the implicit question “Are you going to hurt me?” – which always gets answered in the positive. That’s the problem.
“When I was a teenager I used to compliment myself – or think it might be nice to be able to compliment myself – on having no essential self. Which I saw as making me adaptive to any and every situation. Without realizing, of course, that it is only the people who HAVE an essential self who are – or can be – adaptive. The people in Moscow are the ones who really have no essential selves. Whole train cars – whole cities – full of them. Full of people who go around terrorized constantly functioning at the level of “Are you my friend or my enemy” – without knowing how to deal with people who are their friends, because they’ve never met any. Because it’s not even possible to meet any. These are the people with no essential selves. Which is why Russia can’t survive – won’t survive – because… people of that psychoclass who can’t adapt just… perish. Like Neanderthal man gave way to Homo erectus. Because they couldn’t evolve.
“So there’s the lesson. Here’s the lesson of Russia: here’s what we missed out on. Here’s what we’ve come up from – together. Here’s what we should be damned glad we can’t compliment ourselves on being. It’s not possible to change Russia… but seeing what that does on a societal level… doesn’t it make you want to improve? Not to go practice law there – or go bring laws into the places where there aren’t any – because it’s not happening. You know? Those interesting problems to solve… well, isn’t it those social institutions we want to get rid of in the first place? With the government as the arbiter of contracts?”
I listened to Stef’s video “The Meaning of Life, pt 3″ twice tonight. I’ll listen again in a bit. Just after my second listen, I began to have a dialogue with a dark-haired girl of about 8 or 9 in my head. She was upset, because her dad had done something that she thought was not virtuous, and she… well, she wasn’t exactly afraid or apprehensive about telling him… but I think she was more upset that her illusion of her dad as a 100% moral being who never slipped was a little bit thrown. I began to talk to her.
“You know, sweetheart… we all slip sometimes. We’re none of us perfect. I wasn’t always a virtuous person. There was one time – this was years ago – I had a go at your dad. I cursed him, even. It was wrong of me… but I apologized, and I made it right. And that’s what virtuous people do. Even your dad… he used to believe that war was ok in defense of the state. But one night, someone convinced your dad that his argument was wrong.
“That man did your dad a service sweetheart. If people come along and give you an argument – and are not criticizing out of insecurity or for criticism’s sake – and you can accept that argument as logical and reasonable, and change your position, then the person who corrects you is doing you a service. And moral people – virtuous people – take those arguments that other people give them, and they hold them up to reason, and if they’re reasonable, they thank the person who gave them the argument – for pointing out their errors, and also for thinking highly enough of them to wish to do so, and think that they would get a good reception. Because not everyone will take a pause to consider what people say to them against reason and evidence, and act accordingly.
“So we all slip, love. But the mark of virtue is to realize it and correct it, and to listen to criticism and others’ feelings, and then do something to correct the breach – not because you’re scared or anxious, but because you’re moral. And that’s all that morality, that virtue require – that you do your best, and correct your mistakes when you make them. And the kind of person that your dad is, is the kind of person who can and will do that. He’ll thank you, love, for pointing it out.”
It’s obviously not Stef’s 13-day-old daughter I’m talking to. It’s quite another child whose wounds I was attempting to drop balm into – or who was attempting to drop balm into mine. And I’m feeling sad… but it is really a rich and deep sadness.
I feel closer to the child than I have in many months.
Last night, for some unaccountable reason, I began watching Youtube vids of The F Word, one of Gordon Ramsay’s shows. I remember there was a time when I wanted to be a chef. Mother went back to school when I was 7 as an excuse to stop my modelling career, which was taking off and bringing in quite a bit of money. She went into a culinary arts program. She still can’t cook to save her fucking life, but I was able to watch a lot of her classes and was exposed to a professional kitchen. Neither mother nor my grandmother could cook – and both of them hated the task – so I began taking over the cooking when I was about 8. I was by then a pretty good cook, having watched Julia Child and The Galloping Gourmet, etc, religiously.
A little while ago, I started feeling… not the usual restlessness, and not even frustrated or anything, but just… sad. The phrase that occurred to me in my head was “I want your good opinions… but the truth is… that I don’t want them enough to change what I’m doing. I don’t want them enough to deny myself and take the ’safe’ path. I know I won’t keep any of you by taking the dangerous path… but I can’t care.”
The thing is, this isn’t true. And I know it isn’t.
Let’s be logical about this.
What would throwing everything up again and taking the “dangerous” or “exciting” path be for?
To make us happy.
But we know what adulation we get when we take that path, and from what kinds of people.
Yes.
We’ve met people who are on that path.
Yes.
We’ve even FUCKING COUNSELLED THEM, FOR GOD’S SAKE, TO GIVE IT THE FUCK UP!
Yes.
So… what’s it going to do for us now?
I hate this! I want to go travelling! I hate this! I hate being here! It’s like waiting to die! It’s the fucking picket fense mausoleum with golden retrievers and madras plaid shirts.
Do you believe that?
No.
Then why say these things?
AAAAAAAAAAA!
Howling void, why say these things.
Because I’m scared.
Of what?
Of trying to please these goddamned people. You’re not running after virtue, you fucker! You’re running after their good opinions only, and where the fuck has that ever gotten us?
If “these goddamned people” are virtuous, it cannot hurt to take their advice.
First off, how do we know they’re fucking virtuous? We’ve had a great track record of picking them lately.
That was YOU.
NO IT FUCKING WASN’T! That was ALL of us, motherfucker!
Fine. Fine. You said something else.
That it is WRONG to go into this less than wholeheartedly. I think we have to go lower.
Sink lower.
Yes.
Why?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
So your whole point is to destroy us a little more.
YES! You fucking dolt, you idiot!
And you think that by the time that happens we can’t come back. Once we’ve alienated these people too we’re not going to have much cause to go on, are we.
No.
So that’s your fucking point.
*smiles*
You know what, FUCK YOU. That pisses me the fuck off. You’re in here, and your whole point is to fucking ruin this for all of us.
Well, it snapped you out of your reverie.
Go on?
Well this is the first time you’ve felt anything lately. What the fuck have you been doing? Not much. Watching goddamned telly. Opiate of the goddamned masses. And you’re chasing… virtue? You can’t even turn the fucking tube off.
Well, you have a point.
Concentration broken.
Yeah.
By one of those fuckers who’s on that path.
Yes.
By the same fucker you conselled to GET SOME COUNSELLING and work out her shit.
Yes.
By the same fucker you counselled that she does this because she had a very tenuous and uncertain relationship with her mother and she wants to blow things up and hurt other people before they hurt her.
Yes.
And she agreed.
Yes.
And she said that your going to Russia reminded her of something she did, aged 21.
Yes.
WELL YOU SEE THE RESULTS, MOTHERFUCKER! HOW IS YOUR FUCKING SITUATION DIFFERENT?
I don’t think you want to destroy us at all. I think you’re trying to help me, asshole.
Yeah, that’s much worse, isn’t it.
DON’T help me.
Oh? YOU’RE the one who wants to rot, aren’t you.
We’re not good enough!
Go on?
We’ve never finished anything we’ve started.
Go on?
We’ve lied and shammed our entire lives to make people think we’re better than we are.
Go on?
This whole life has been one fucking punishment avoiding thing after another, and our going after this illusion of fucking “virtue” is to please those safe bastards now.
Is it?
Well.
See, now the tables are turned. Project much?
It doesn’t make logical sense.
Go on?
They’ve no power over us. Why should we want to please them?
Two things: either this quest for “virtue” is a complete reFOO and we should get therapy, or it’s not a complete reFOO and this quest is real and we should get therapy.
Don’t use their language.
Quelle autre langue est disponible?
Pffft. Fine, fuck off.
Well?
It’s so fucking difficult.
Well… yeah. But what would be more fucking difficult would be feeling like this for the rest of our lives.
We don’t want to be like that.
No, we don’t.
We secretly loathe what they are.
Why not loathe it openly?
We need them.
For what? You tell me – fine, no movie quotes. But for what?
Well, tomorrow.
Ok, and you couldn’t get that from the free market?
True.
What has she actually brought into your life.
It’s “my” life now – not “ours?”
That’s what I said.
I thought you said before it was all of us.
Heh. Hypocri-sea. Goooo ooonn?
Fine, “our” life. Nothing.
BS, come on then mate!
Fine. They’ve brought in an illusion.
What illusion.
They can be saved.
Do you actually believe they can?
Not for a minute.
But you try to assuage it by counselling them.
Yes.
And they want your counsel for the same reason.
Yes.
And… this is healthy?
No.
But you’re still going to give them that sanction.
Tomorrow I am, yes. And for the rest of tonight. I’ll even apologize to her for snapping at her for talking to me when she SAW by her own admission I was fucking intent on doing something, and not to bother me.
Oh, that’s a great position to be in.
I know it’s not, but what can I do.
Don’t give me that line of shit. You know right well.
But that would throw up my plans.
Um… no. It would make you more honest, is what it would make you.
But I won’t do it right now because it’s difficult.
That’s why you’ve failed, and will keep on failing. You don’t have to make this shit look easy any more. No one is going to punish you because it’s difficult. Not even me! Who are you trying to impress? People you don’t give a shit about anyway, and who don’t give a shit about you. How about trying to impress the people who matter, for once. Stef, Colleen, Jake, the Gregs, Rich, Christina, and the others. Even freaking Nathan for crying out loud.
If I tried to “impress” them, they’d scorn me.
For knowing it is fake.
Yes!
Well, now you’re freaking on to something. Anyone you’ve got to impress – or feel you’ve got to impress – isn’t worth impressing. Anyone you feel you’ve got to lie to isn’t someone you want in your life. Anyone you feel scared or apprehensive about meeting is a douchebag not worth your time. FLEE these fucking people. Have a sense of fucking self-preservation, for christ’s sake. Don’t go about abasing us in front of people we shouldn’t even be giving the goddamned time of day to. It’s embarrassing. YOU’RE – we’re – embarrassing when we do this. And everyone sees it. Everyone in here… and whatever remnant of true self amongst these other assholes, yeah? They don’t want to be abased to. If someone had fucking stood up to them at one time, it would have changed their entire goddamn miserable fucking lives. But it won’t make one bit of difference now. So just fuck off. Run the fuck AWAY whenever you see one. There’s no honor – no glory, no impressiveness – in “Saving” or “standing up to” these assholes. Just run away. Go away, and talk to better people
*sad*
No, I’m serious. The peoople whose good opinions you were thinking about earlier are these assholes. You got it wrong. The people you’re not keen on impressing are the people who demand it of you. The path you’re not willing to take is the one that will ruin your life and your – OUR – only one fucking chance of happiness for these cocksuckers who don’t give a shit about you or themselves or all the world. You LOVE us more than you love a single one of those cocksuckers because they don’t deserve it. WE deserve love, and your true friends deserve love, and you sell us all down the fucking river to get in your kicks and give a good show to the yokels. Yes, I’m fucking berating you, because this was what you wanted, wasn’t it. This was what you needed, wasn’t it! I’m fucking livid at THOSE FUCKING COCKSUCKERS, not at you! It’s THEM I hate with a fucking passion, and it’s THEM I would walk through fire to fucking tread on, so that you get to the people who actually matter. US internally, and the virtuous friends you’ve been fucking neglecting and cutting yourself off from.
*feeling lifted*
You know the fucking people you should ACTUALLY go and fucking apologize to for snapping at them? How about Jessen, yeah? How about Rich and Colleen, who were fucking scared to actually tell you that they felt like shit after you went to see them. How about Jake? How about freaking JC, and Nate, and Stef, and James and Greg who are scared to even talk to you? How about you take the actual sadness that you’re finally fucking feeling and DO something – not to manage it, but to finally fucking acknowledge it, and lay it to rest. Because this is the sadness you’re feeling from fucking THEM up, and fucking US up, and generally… fucking up. And I’m STILL not mad at you and I’m STILL fucking there for you… and I wouldn’t tell you any of this goddamned shit if I didn’t believe you could actually win through, and make your apologies REAL to us and to them, and work on going forward from here. I KNOW you can do this shit.
We.
WE, yes. Together.
Who’s first.
You’re first. THANK YOU for this. Thank you for the tension. Thank you for the sadness. Thank you for the restlessness. Thank you for the contempt, and the moroseness, and the anger, and the lowness, and for the anxiety, and for that sick pit in my stomach whenever I spoke to any of those assholes about the apartment. THANK YOU for the signs which I have ignored – “until now,” I want to say, but I can’t promise 100% in the future.
Of course you can’t. If it was as easy as saying “From now on,” then I WOULD be fucking pissed off at you.
Thank you for acknowledging that. And for pointing out my douchebaggery. And for still thinking enough of me, after 22 years of separation and of my not knowing you and acknowledging what you are, to effect this change. Or to give me – us – the chance to effect it. For still thinking enough of me to say you know I can do this. Even after the promises I’ve made and not kept, and my being afraid but not acknowledging it, and swanning off or pulling away… and all that.
Is in the past… at this moment.
Yes.
Because it’s only this moment. Acknowledging what’s past, and what brought us to this moment… but the only thing we can change is this second on.
Yes.
And no promises of perfection.
No.
As an aside, you’d not be thanking me if I demanded it.
No. But I forgot something.
What.
Thank you for protecting me. For protecting all of us. And if I’d let you come through and acknowledged your messages, I would have known when I – we – were in danger, or when we were endangering others.
You would have.
Well… I’m still feeling tension.
It’s the undone that is that weight on your neck. We can talk all day, but until you DO something – and not in the spirit of anxiety-avoidance, but in the spirit of actually acknowledging your own feelings and working to make things right – you’re going to feel it. And you’re going to feel it more till this is done. This is only the beginning.
I’m keen to start.
No you’re not because you’re making plans that start the day after tomorrow. A mutilated sacrifice.
We won’t talk in terms of sacrifices.
Won’t we? Do your best. It’s all I want.
Yes.
(or, at least, with Stef in the form of podcast 1239)
“When we maintain the irrational… we must manipulate and lie and evade and attack…”
“If we didn’t know it was a lie we wouldn’t resort to such tricks.”
“It’s impossible to respect yourself when you do these ignoble things.”
[note: this was going to be a text post, but the MEs took over.]
I want to be able to respect myself.
Then do respectable things.
Not quite that easy.
Of course it isn’t easy. If it was easy, you wouldn’t respect yourself. The harder it is to be virtuous, the more honor there is in the virtue. We know this already.
I’m not happy.
How virtuous have you been lately?
Not very.
Not very? Can you tell me one thing you’ve done in the past 6 months that was virtuous?
I listened to criticism two times and was grateful, though it hurt me.
And what else.
I came back to the US, and I called these therapists.
And what else.
I realized what I was doing – lying, evading, putting myself in dangerous situations, hurting people – is wrong and..
You’ve been corrupt towards yourself.
Yes.
Is it really any wonder you didn’t want to journal in Moscow?
No.
Why – I want to hear you say it.
Because I needed to maintain that internal delusion – fogbank, evasion, obfuscation.
Why? For what purpose? What have you gotten out of all of this weaselly behavior? What have you got out of shitting on people – yourself most of all?
That’s a bit harsh.
A bit? You say you want to respect yourself, and then you hide when anyone comes right out and says it to you. What you’ve been doing is wrong, and foul, and will lead only to unhappiness. And you knew it – we know you knew it, becuse you attempted to hide it. What I want to know is WHY? What good came out of it?
Besides the goods that will accrue now.
You can’t use that as an excuse. The goods that are accruing are things you gave up to go on this jaunt – a stable home, a job, and a therapeutic relationship. So you can’t say that this whole little episode was to gain those boons. You’ve put yourself back 6 months for what, mastermind?
That’s what I intend to find out.
Oh, you intend. You intend. Tell us now! Say it!
I hate you. You’re a big bully.
And just like the other one you’d be happy to do our bidding if only we’d be soft with you.
I might more cheerfully listen and heed your advice.
Cheerfully? Is this something to be cheerful about? You’re spending Christmas alone – and enjoying it, for some unknowable reason, or at least you tell yourself that – because no one will be around you.
Well, is that not deserved?
Yes, it’s deserved.
Well? Should I be morose because I’ve been given a chance to improve?
You had one before, you cow!
What if what Nate said is right. What if this is really the fastest we can improve. So what if what you were saying before is true, and people have completely written us off. (It’s NOT true, because at least some of them are willing to help us – but let’s give you the benefit of the doubt.) How many people did we write off who have done amazing things and come back to impress us?
None have strayed from that path with less cause than you.
But we don’t know that! I can’t give you the answer to “why” – but I can take you to the place that will help all of us find it. I think there is a cause, or we would not have done it. You saw how much energy it took to get us moved.
Less energy than it took to obfuscate the fact that you’d gone off the rails – and you turned to Stef of all people for a justification. And he was right that you could have dealt with some of these things abroad… but you didn’t, did you.
No. And – I’m anticipating your argument – even all the energy we’ve spent both physically and mentally in the last 6 months does not equal the amount of energy it would have taken to really make a go at therapy.
You’ve grasped it.
And because you’re angry at me, you’re making me take self-punishing action.
You’ve miscalculated?
Well, you say you don’t want to do this stuff… and then you yell at me and you’re completely incurious…
…no more incurious than you’re being with me…
and then… Alright, fine. Fine, guilty as charged. We’re both being incurious. Which is one of the reasons why we have these problems, my dear!
I’m not going to be first to make it up.
So you want me to listen to that podcast again – ok, two of them – and be the first to capitulate.
See when you phrase it like that, how does it help us.
You want me, then, to be the proverbial “better man.”
No, still not right. How does sarcasm help us?
I’m sorry. I’m doing right now what I’ve been doing all along. I don’t want to admit I’m wrong. I don’t want to admit I’ve miscalculated. I’m scared of being attacked.
And rightly so…
…because I’m attacking you?
Hah. See how that thought was reversed.
It made it more true. I’m attacking first.
Like a counter-offensive. What we always did with…
…mother. Ex-act-ly. Pre-cise-ly.
So this all goes back to her.
Well, she set it up. But you’re the one who set it whirring again.
For what reason?
Now who’s asking why?
But we can go to the place to figure this out.
Sure.
Till then I want to be safe. Can we have a cease-fire?
No. Because you won’t go as slow as is required.
I’ll go slower.
No, you won’t.
Try me.
Prove it, then. If you actually pause at any time in the next 10 days before you take a decision, I’ll be flabbergasted.
Going slowly makes me sick.
You know a synonym for quick?
Heedless.
Exactly. Heed-less. Not listening. Everything becomes a blur – of motion. You obfuscate.
If you do the same thing and expect it to yield different results…
…then you’re mad. Can you respect someone who is mad?
Not if they have chosen the madness.
Can a madman be virtuous?
Not if the madness is of his own choosing.
Then don’t choose to be mad. And by the way, stop reading the emotional repression manual that is Rand. That shit didn’t work when we were 12, either.
Any port in a storm…
…of your own making.
You’ve a point.
Now go sort this stuff out. Don’t add procrastination to your list of other faults.
“Go slow” and “don’t procrastinate” contradict each other.
You’re wrong, and you know it. Go prove it to yourself. Also, stop buying things.
Yes, I ought to.
Feed us – simply – clothe us – in the stuff we already have – and shelter us – in a permanent home and not this series of a-room-and-a-plane-and-a-room-and-a-plane-and-a-room-and-a-plane we’ve been on for 6 months.
Saturday then, if you’ll help with negotiations.
We’ll be there.
This has been painful. But thank you for the help.
Such as it’s been.
Don’t underrate yourself. That’s my province.
Heh. Go.
A dialogue from this morning.
–
Fine. So we have a lakefront cottage, an SUV, and a job at a hedge fund. Great! We’ve become what we’ve always dreaded. Middle America. God help us, the upper-middle class Connecticut mother. “O I say, Buffy! Biff has spilled my best beaujolais on his Dockers.” “O, hilarious! But, I say, this chateaubriand is singularly toothsome!”
Not that we’d serve beaujolais with chateaubriand.
No. Of course not. And this is my fucking point.
What?
That what the hell are we doing. Settling(down). Settling. Now all we need is the goddamned golden retriever. We should be out there! Like Ranulph Fiennes, climbing the Eiger by the most dangerous route at the age of 60. Or like Tim Ferriss – you know, the guy who just had his sperm frozen at a sperm bank because he’s afraid he’ll be killed or incapacitated before he ever has kids. We should be doing THAT! Exploring things?
Well…
Right, right, when you put it that way it sounds a little dangerous.
A little? Do you know how many times Ranulph Fiennes has almost died?
Yeah, so?
And… are you really saying we should live in such fear for our lives that freezing our genetic material is the only way we think we’re going to be able to reproduce.
Well, what the hell else choice is there?
But it’s not the choice you seem to make it. It’s not a choice between mouldering in the middle class and living life on the edge of the knife.
Well how the hell do you reconcile that?
Well, that’s what we’re going to therapy to figure out, isn’t it? Why one part of us never wants to leave the prairie and wouldn’t resist mouldering in obscurity, and another part wants to keep throwing us into dangerous situations that we don’t even realize the danger in?
But how the hell are we going to have any fun?
Was sitting in a holding tank in London fun?
Occupational hazard.
Was trying to go and beg for a job in Russia fun?
Occupational hazard.
Ok, is getting told by our friends that they don’t want to speak to us because we’re contributing to their anxiety or scaring them fun?
No.
You didn’t tell me it was an occupational hazard.
No. Because it’s not their occupation.
You were thinking earlier how Ranulph Fiennes must be always alone, weren’t you.
Yeah.
And do you think Tim Ferriss has any friends like Jake or Stef or JC or Colleen or any of those?
No.
So… do we really want to have the kind of life that is – by default… and I would say almost by design – going to cut us off from virtuous people?
No.
And I did mean by design – because that’s what it is, isn’t it.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Like hell you don’t. *sigh* I’m… sorry. You do know what I’m talking about.
Well…
It’s the life that “impresses” people, isn’t it. You have people on the one hand telling you you’re a legend and fearless… but the people you really want to “impress” ain’t all that happy with you, are they.
No.
So the kind of people who tell you you’re impressive…
…are not the kind of people I want to attract long-term.
You’ve grasped it.
It’s actually easier to go back to Russia.
Short-term, sure. And that little jaunt to Kurdistan that you were thinking of taking.
Well, not seriously.
…and it’s not the “real Iraq.” Come on, who is falling for that?
You did, almost.
Look, mate, Iran is bad enough. Do you think they’re going to want to hear about that, when you go? Do you think they’re going to be glad you went?
But I can’t live my life for them. I can’t deny the things I want just to please what I think they want. That’s a half-life.
That’s also what we’re going to therapy to figure out. Because is a healthy person going to really want to go to a country where there’s a war on?
Well… we’re already in a country where there’s a war on.
In our head, yeah. The outward circumstances match the inner, contrary to the adage.
We want to stop the war.
Hence therapy. And I think the part that does things like make us consider going to Kurdistan – or even going to Russia without a plan as to what and where and how we’re going to live – is the one that’s making us tense any time we reach out to a therapist.
Because that guy’s come out to play a lot.
Yeah. And that’s the scary guy. The devilishly attractive but fucking scary guy. We’ve been thinking about Tom and Mephistopheles – and we don’t need the real Tom or the Faustian demon. He’s here! He’s us.
Well, he did serve a purpose.
Sure, which he’s continuing to fulfill now. Teflon armor. The legend. The self-aggrandizement amongst other people whose only purpose was self-aggrandizement. But he’s not the guy that attracts virtuous people.
But he can spot non-virtuous ones a mile away.
Exactly. But right now, he ain’t on our side. As has been amply shown since June.
Maybe the good doctor can talk to him.
Well… it’s worth a shot.
Filed under: deFOO, self-work | Tags: deFOO, MEcosystem, mother, self-work
One of my MEs was bitterly complaining in the shower this morning:
“Ah, yes. A little house well-filled, a little land well-tilled, and a little wife well-willed. Oh, the joys of ownership. After Russia?! Don’t be absurd.”
Despite that little voice – I do acknowledge his point of view, I really do! A 9-5 in NYC and acquiring “stuff” is not what I really want – plans proceed. I have just about secured an apartment. I saw a place last night 2 blocks from where I used to live. The apartment is nice enough (clean, in an elevator building) and the one roommate I met seems very nice. Not a potential bosom buddy, mind you, but ok to live with. Today at 1pm I’m to call her and arrange to meet the other roommate, and drop off a check for 1/2 month’s rent + deposit. If I move into that neighborhood I’ll then go re-join the Y, which is not far away, and… yes, that’ll be that.
On the job front, a person from a company I’d like to work for has expressed interest in interviewing me. I have another job interview set up for Monday – but that is for an IT job in Russia. In Siberia. I don’t really want to go to Siberia, but it’s better to have offers on the table than not have offers on the table, and this company is an extremely well-known international software company. Advancement and transfer opportunities are what that job has going for it. Still, another year sans therapy in Novosibirsk… no, that I’ve begun to regard as impossible as well.
The thing is… there’s a really large part of me that believes I’ll never make it. A large part of me that believes that despite my struggles – and even if I struggle harder – I’ll end up as violent and unprincipled as my mother. So had best not make an effort. There’s a large part of me that believes I’ll never be married – so why bother trying to improve myself to the point that marriage (or a relationship of any kind) is possible? If you had asked me… with anyone I’ve ever thrown myself at… whether I thought the relationship would lead to marriage or had any possibilities whatsoever, I would have laughed at you. No. There’s a reason why I’ve never set out to actually date. I mean, I’ve gone on 2 dates in my entire life. Why? That voice cries futility. Why try?
Why try?
Well… to tell you the truth… that voice has always been there, but… at bottom, much as I hate to admit it, I’m an optimist. Maybe that’s the wrong word for it. I throw myself at an abyss, but I’m always confident, at bottom, that things will come off. That I’ll succeed somehow, or at least get through whatever it is. Optimism is probably the wrong word for it. Courting disaster isn’t optimism.
This just popped into my head: I’ve given myself ample opportunities to fail.
Thank you! Thank you, whoever just suggested that. If my operating thought has been that it’s futile and, struggle as I might, I cannot do anything to effect a change or become better or even just avoid becoming my mother… then I have to set myself up to fail. As mother always set me up to fail. Her refrain was “You’re so smart!” (said in a sing-songy condescending voice) and then she would do her best to make my life hell whenever I wanted to study, or she would say yes to my going on a trip somewhere and then turn right round and say no 2 weeks (always invariably 2 weeks) before I was to go, or… anything she could do to set me up to fail.
Is that not the case now? I mean really, I got on a plane back to NYC without even knowing where I was going to stay. That’s just the latest and very mild incarnation. Wasn’t dropping therapy setting myself up to fail? I’d had the desire to travel around the world since I was 12 – and teaching English to finance it had come to my notice at 17. So… why then? Why drop everything then, just as things were progressing?
This part of me, I know, wants to be heard.
Someone else just suggested: If failure was inevitable for her, she’s clear. She didn’t do anything wrong. She wasn’t responsible.
But oh, my dears, she was! We all know she read Rand and deFOOed, and while she didn’t have FDR, she chose the “easy” path (which is in no way easy, and for which she is paying daily) and went back to living with her parents until age 50! In that letter, she wrote us that she knew she had anger problems and went to therapy for it. But she didn’t do anything to stop yelling at us and abusing us. She never yelled us in public places, or where grandmother could hear and stop her. She knew right what she did. It was not inevitable that she should be that way. Truly, truly.
Screwing up our life and abusing our friends doesn’t prove anything. We don’t want to be like that, do we? Becoming a person like mother doesn’t exonerate mother. It just makes it even worse. Don’t let her fool you. And that “easy” road she counsels is the road to a life of unceasing torment. You guys must know that, and see it.
Have we not fully admitted, then, that she is guilty? Is that why we need to keep reading the emails from Rebecca? To “prove” it? I sympathise. I sympathise. If we admit her guilt, then it’s incumbent upon us to… oh, to go that hard road and not be like her.
But you disprove your own thesis, my love, by setting me up to fail. Think on that, will you?
It feels like a reboot of this entire journey.
So you all know I got sacked, and why, and that I think this is actually a pretty good thing – since it was a matter of time till I quit anyway, and because they sacked me they’ve got to buy me a plane ticket. But… what the heck am I going to do now?
I’ve started the search for a new position, and it still feels quite a bit like everything is going on auto-pilot. I talked with my MEs last night about how I was feeling – and they immediately came up with “sad” and “scared” – two emotions which I’d not consciously felt. We talked a little longer and I did the meditation and got in touch with a bit of the sadness – and the fright, because the child kept telling me she was very, very scared – but by the end I felt quite peaceful. Now as I’ve continued writing this, I’ve felt some tension coming back.
[note: and then the MEs showed up]
To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I feel about being sacked (nothing to do with the quality of my teaching, though) this morning. There are some good things about it, and some bad things… but now that I’m sitting here, alone in the flat, I’m not sure.
The good things are these: I’m free to search for new jobs in the country of my choice. The school is obligated to buy me a one-way plane ticket to anywhere in the world, which wouldn’t be the case if I had quit. I don’t have to deal with the attendant frustrations of teaching at that school any more. I have 7 days to either leave Russia or find another job instead of 3, as would have been the case had I quit. Most importantly, I can take some time out, re-evaluate things, and work on myself.
The bad things are these: most jobs are currently hiring for January start, so there’s not great prospects of immediate employment for the next month. I don’t have too much money, so options are limited for waiting this unemployment period out.
Frankly, it wasn’t a matter of if I left this job, but when. And in a way, I’m glad it’s sooner rather than later. In a way – is this just the part of me that manages crises? – I’m actually glad the decision was made for me, rather than hanging in suspense.
And that’s the thing: I’m mistrusting myself at the moment. “What if,” I’m thinking, “I acted unconsiously in ways that I knew would get me sacked? What if I precipitated this in order to have a crisis to manage?”
Well… let’s take a look at those thoughts compared to truth. Here is all the evidence I have:
1. I have been very consciously afraid ever since I had a discussion with Stef about 2.5 weeks ago of precipitating crises – stopping my own Renaissance, as it were. I have also been afraid because the thought is “I don’t know how to see this or stop myself!”
2. I have been acting unconsciously recently with regards to others – for example the convo I had with Stef 2 nights ago, and several times with J and GM. In some of these cases I have either caught myself while or soon after doing this, but a couple of times I did not realize until it was pointed out to me. So there is evidence both for and against the points made in #1.
3. I have not talked this over with the MEs yet – or indeed talked to them since the night I talked with Stef – though I know that’s a Bad Thing.
4. I ended some of my classes 3 or 4 minutes early, which I knew was against regulations – though I stopped doing this after the head teacher pointed this out. I was also fairly liberal about calling in sick – which I know (from having worked since I was 16) is a sure way to get fired. I also missed one lesson without having called – though I talked to the head teacher about it before the class was due to start.
5. I have been rather vocal about how I feel about the school’s practice of requiring unpaid overtime from its teachers – and requiring even more when the teacher asks for help. This was said in confidence to other teachers, but I know full well that nothing ever stays in confidence in a school.
6. Outside of my classes (and note that no one sees what goes on in my classes) I have been obviously lacking in enthusiasm, and have kept to myself in the teacher’s room and not attended any parties or drinking nights – which is the main way that people in this school interact. I have not attempted to fit in with the other teachers.
7. I’m feeling a lot of tension as I think about this.
So… have I acted in ways that justify their sacking me? Indeed I have – and I don’t fault the school for doing so. Have I acted in these ways specifically to precipitate this event? Yes, possibly. Probably, even.
Oddly enough… there are some good things to come out of this. First off… I have caught myself just after the event happened. I’ve been in Moscow for not quite a month. This is the shortest interval of this behavior that has occurred. (The last was 4 months in duration – i.e. Nate.) I have also thought of this (or let’s be honest, here – the MEs have suggested it) without it being pointed out to me.
But no, let’s be honest. No recriminations… but I did come here to work on myself, and so far I have a pretty poor track record. I don’t think this would have happened had I been more diligent about journaling or remaining in contact with the MEs. But then again… there’s a reason I didn’t do that.
So, there’s a lot of good that can (will!) come from this experience.
[note: and then the MEs showed up.]
[I]t may be objected, if man does not act from free will, what will happen if the incentives to action are equally balanced, as in the case of Buridan’s ass? [In reply,] I am quite ready to admit, that a man placed in the equilibrium described (namely, as perceiving nothing but hunger and thirst, a certain food and a certain drink, each equally distant from him) would die of hunger and thirst. If I am asked, whether such an one should not rather be considered an ass than a man; I answer, that I do not know, neither do I know how a man should be considered, who hangs himself, or how we should consider children, fools, madmen, &c
–Baruch Spinoza, Ethics, Book 2, Scholium
And so Spinoza argues that a man who sees each of two options as equally compelling cannot be a rational man, or act on free will. I quite agree with Spinoza. The problem is… how does one choose between the food and the drink? Just how does one decide which is the more compelling?
I was thinking of this on the way to the school today. I bought a very thick and weighty biography of Sir Ernest Shackleton before I left London. Shackleton has always been something of a hero to me. Unlike Scott and Amundsen, Shackleton brought all his men home safely from the Antarctic, and gave up his dream – in part – so that those who remained with him should be safe. And yet he never gave his dream up fully. He launched expedition after expedition, spending all his time and energy when in England to raise money to support the next attempt at the Antarctic. That was all he did. That was all he could do.
My mind immediately lapsed into a plaint for the golden age of terrestrial exploration. “Where is there for me to go?” I thought. Then an image of Sir Ranulph Fiennes came to mind. He is the true heir of someone like Shackleton – a modern explorer who has given his life in pursuit of adventure and renown in out-of-the-way places, and lost most of his fingers – and other limbs – in the process. Exploration is all he does. It seems to be all he can do. Like Shackleton, as soon as he is becalmed, he again longs for the storm.
I don’t have that problem. I have what seems to be the opposite problem… but might really be the same one.
There is not one thing that I can do – or want to do – for the rest of my life. Yes, I want to achieve the Seven Summits, but when those are done, so am I. Yes, I want to travel, but I don’t want to spend my life doing so. To be always on the move for the next 60 years is not my aspiration. To explore inwardly, rather than outwardly, is something I wish to do, and am doing. Yet there is a time that that, too, must taper off – if not altogether cease. There will be a time (which is not in the forseeable future) when what can be mapped of the inner regions is mapped. Eventually I must turn outward.
I want to do a lot of things. Sometimes it feels like I want to do everything. I want to be a Renaissance man – jack of all trades – or do I? Buridan’s Ass with 50,000 piles of hay stacked around him, each as tasty-looking as the next. But… it’s all hay! Where’s the smoked salmon with caviar and champagne? (Though I must say a donkey would probably not find that very tempting.)
The fact that I do not know what I want to do with the rest of my life does not scare me as much as it once did. It does not drive me mad with impatience, as it once did. I am not yet chafing to receive the next commandment – to either complete or bitterly fight against. The fact that I’m not even sure if there’s an answer – I’m not sure if I will ever find The One True Calling – is a little more worrying, but… perhaps it is a mark of the inner mapping that (slowly, tentatively, sporadically, falteringly) I’ve begun doing over the past year.
The regions which I’m currently mapping include the ones that lead me to chafe at inactivity. To spur and goad myself into doing something – anything – no matter the cost, emotionally, physically, or psychologically. That part of myself that turns everything into a race against other people, and tells me that if I “lose” I will be reviled, hated, and forever unhappy. That part of me that ensures that I never win – that I never can win! that it’s not possible to win! – and then brings to mind images of men like Shackleton, who moved the earth to accomplish their goals.
I understand – partially – why that part is there, and I cannot fault it. It has, after all, gotten me through the times when – had I not been my own first and greatest critic – I may well have broken under the criticisms of others who did not wish me happy, as they were unhappy. The fact that it is active, still, is a function – and also a cause – of a lack of inner peace. How the process of working with – instead of in opposition to – this part will go, I do not know. And yet, I am not – as before – totally inquiet about it.
Let me not fool you: that impatience and inquietude and restlessness is still there. That feeling of being Buridan’s Ass or Aristotle’s starving and thirsting man is still there. Maybe the solution is this: I don’t choose. Maybe it’s not supposed to be an ego-driven thing. Maybe there’s not one “person” out in the van, leading the charge towards a goal only he has chosen or defined, dragging the others along unwillingly.
Perhaps, once I get some people around a table – for something other than a council of war – it’ll work out. I look forward to that day.
