"And I'm not living this life without you, I'm selfish and clear
And you're not leaving here without me, I don't wanna be without
My best friend... wake up to see you could have it all"
And you're not leaving here without me, I don't wanna be without
My best friend... wake up to see you could have it all"
"Save You" [Pearl Jam]
Many years ago, I wrote about how, in coming to terms with myself in my 20s, I had to break through a lot of ridiculous notions about "strong" people and "weak" people and, quite simply, what it was to be human. Throughout my 20s, I became very self-aware, embarking on a 'journey of self-discovery' and really getting to know, accept, and love myself for who I am, flaws included.
It wasn't an easy journey, but I'm all the better for it, and the quality of life that I live nowadays would not have been possible otherwise. These days, I'm usually pretty content. I still struggle at times with a touch of fear and doubt, or a deep-seated nudge in the direction of depression, but I keep a tight enough lid that I imagine even many of my closest friends don't notice.
What I remember of my childhood involved a lot of anxiety and depression. From being the nerdy little kid constantly worried about being beaten up by someone from St Pat's on his way home to the overwhelming sadness of a home life in which I watched my mother's health spiral downward until her eventual death when I was 21.
I looked to religion for salvation, to the point of rosary beads, a Bible for night-time reading, and a stint as an altar boy, but found no answers. Not long after, I was an atheist, a Wiccan, an atheist again... eventually Taoism provided me some comfort, not in the form of spiritual assurances, but in the form of a clarity of vision about the truths of the world. A lot of soul-searching followed, as I learned to sort through a lot of anger I'd kept bottled up inside, deep down, and learned to understand and forgive myself for it.
Through the 'journey of self-discovery', I not only learned about myself, and came to eventually be comfortable in my own skin, but in doing so I also developed a number of coping mechanisms. For example, I often "self-medicate" with music. I know what, among my music collection, picks me up, makes me contemplative, makes me angry, makes me sad, and so on. I regulate what I listen to in order to make myself more productive at work, or more relaxed at home, or more excited about an upcoming event. At times, I've "self-medicated" through the use of wakefulness and fatigue, such as by intentionally sleep-depriving myself. There's food, of course. Plenty of us eat our feelings. I've avoided allowing alcohol to ever play much of a factor, because knowing how easily I get addicted to things, I avoid the slippery slope that could be for me. And obviously there is writing. I started writing to exorcise some of my demons. I still use it in a cathartic way from time to time.
Like today, perhaps.
I could go on, but coping with my own problems is something I think I've gotten pretty good at, and not really what's on my mind.
Rather, what's on my mind of late is that I find myself with close friends who are struggling with anxiety and depression, and there is little I can do to help them. It's not that I don't want to help them; I do. It's more that I've gotten pretty good these past number of years at managing any anxiety of my own, and keeping my own propensity for depression at bay, that I can no longer empathize with what they are going through. Instead, I find myself among the ignorant hopefuls who just react with a "why doesn't he/she just... [insert something ridiculously simple here]?". I know better. I know it's not that easy. I know it's not that simple. But for me, nowadays, it often is that simple. (Which is a good thing, I know.)
It's like a struggle in my head, where my natural skepticism, my Taoist belief system, and my stronger self faces off against the very real experiences of my past and tries to denounce them with the same rhetorical bullshit people would have just as readily told me then. 'Nope. Nope. That's silly. Don't be so ridiculous. Never even happened. And if it did, it certainly could never happen again.'
Having conditioned myself to reduce these problems, and to cope with these problems in my own life, I am less equipped to relate to them in the lives of others. I've made myself an excellent counselor for me, and a very shitty one for everyone else.
And that's been a common theme in my head of late anyway: once upon a time I really fancied myself an excellent friend. It was a point of pride for me. Some people are proud of their work, some of their art, and so on. I was proud of my relationships. I thought myself an excellent friend and an excellent boyfriend. I think I'm still pretty good at the latter, but I've recently developed a lot of doubts about the former.
Is it age? Is it distance? Is it apathy? Is it ignorance?
There was a time when we drunkenly threw our arms over each others' shoulders at the end of the night with the assurance we were all going to go down fighting. Together.
Now, I'm no longer sure I understand exactly what friendship means. I just know that whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing, I don't think I'm doing it.
I'm just standing on the outside. Looking in.
It wasn't an easy journey, but I'm all the better for it, and the quality of life that I live nowadays would not have been possible otherwise. These days, I'm usually pretty content. I still struggle at times with a touch of fear and doubt, or a deep-seated nudge in the direction of depression, but I keep a tight enough lid that I imagine even many of my closest friends don't notice.
What I remember of my childhood involved a lot of anxiety and depression. From being the nerdy little kid constantly worried about being beaten up by someone from St Pat's on his way home to the overwhelming sadness of a home life in which I watched my mother's health spiral downward until her eventual death when I was 21.
I looked to religion for salvation, to the point of rosary beads, a Bible for night-time reading, and a stint as an altar boy, but found no answers. Not long after, I was an atheist, a Wiccan, an atheist again... eventually Taoism provided me some comfort, not in the form of spiritual assurances, but in the form of a clarity of vision about the truths of the world. A lot of soul-searching followed, as I learned to sort through a lot of anger I'd kept bottled up inside, deep down, and learned to understand and forgive myself for it.
Through the 'journey of self-discovery', I not only learned about myself, and came to eventually be comfortable in my own skin, but in doing so I also developed a number of coping mechanisms. For example, I often "self-medicate" with music. I know what, among my music collection, picks me up, makes me contemplative, makes me angry, makes me sad, and so on. I regulate what I listen to in order to make myself more productive at work, or more relaxed at home, or more excited about an upcoming event. At times, I've "self-medicated" through the use of wakefulness and fatigue, such as by intentionally sleep-depriving myself. There's food, of course. Plenty of us eat our feelings. I've avoided allowing alcohol to ever play much of a factor, because knowing how easily I get addicted to things, I avoid the slippery slope that could be for me. And obviously there is writing. I started writing to exorcise some of my demons. I still use it in a cathartic way from time to time.
Like today, perhaps.
I could go on, but coping with my own problems is something I think I've gotten pretty good at, and not really what's on my mind.
Rather, what's on my mind of late is that I find myself with close friends who are struggling with anxiety and depression, and there is little I can do to help them. It's not that I don't want to help them; I do. It's more that I've gotten pretty good these past number of years at managing any anxiety of my own, and keeping my own propensity for depression at bay, that I can no longer empathize with what they are going through. Instead, I find myself among the ignorant hopefuls who just react with a "why doesn't he/she just... [insert something ridiculously simple here]?". I know better. I know it's not that easy. I know it's not that simple. But for me, nowadays, it often is that simple. (Which is a good thing, I know.)
It's like a struggle in my head, where my natural skepticism, my Taoist belief system, and my stronger self faces off against the very real experiences of my past and tries to denounce them with the same rhetorical bullshit people would have just as readily told me then. 'Nope. Nope. That's silly. Don't be so ridiculous. Never even happened. And if it did, it certainly could never happen again.'
Having conditioned myself to reduce these problems, and to cope with these problems in my own life, I am less equipped to relate to them in the lives of others. I've made myself an excellent counselor for me, and a very shitty one for everyone else.
And that's been a common theme in my head of late anyway: once upon a time I really fancied myself an excellent friend. It was a point of pride for me. Some people are proud of their work, some of their art, and so on. I was proud of my relationships. I thought myself an excellent friend and an excellent boyfriend. I think I'm still pretty good at the latter, but I've recently developed a lot of doubts about the former.
Is it age? Is it distance? Is it apathy? Is it ignorance?
There was a time when we drunkenly threw our arms over each others' shoulders at the end of the night with the assurance we were all going to go down fighting. Together.
Now, I'm no longer sure I understand exactly what friendship means. I just know that whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing, I don't think I'm doing it.
I'm just standing on the outside. Looking in.
