Looking back at my time just before going to the hospital recently, I have drawn some interesting conclusions.
1) I’m not the person I always thought I’d be. I’m this sad, dejected version of the man I wanted to become. I’m a scarred, weeping, parody of masculinity in a world that still defines a person by their traditional successes. I hate the way I’ve turned out. I’m a college drop out, who never finishes his projects, and is torn by the thousands of distractions in the world.
2) I’m not as broken as I thought I was. I’ve come to the realization that my self-esteem is nowhere near the level it should be. I’m this dejected no-confidence joke. I think I’m worthless, and I let that drive my day. I have no drive to participate in the world, much less emotionally invest into my day-to-day activities.
3) People don’t understand me. Sure, some of you blessed readers take the truth with you when you are reading my blog, but most of the people I run into on a regular basis think that I am an amazing, talented, confident person, who doesn’t care what people think. I know this is my fault. I walk around like the pimpin rooster in a cage of hens. I treat everyone like they should respect me, and I present in such a way that people never know what’s wrong.
4) I’m going to re-invest into my life. For those of you who don’t already know this, Jenny and I are now engaged, and we plan on getting married next summer. I’m also making an effort to become traditionally employed again, so that I feel more connected to the world, and can support my family better.
5) Friends make the biggest difference there is. I’ve decided to pare down my group of friends. I no longer feel pressured to participate in large groups of people, where my anxiety goes crazy. Instead I’m spending my time with 5 particular people who I KNOW will be there for me just as much as I would be there for them.
6) Now this one is IMPORTANT. I’m making more of an effort to make sure my kids are comfortable, and taken care of. This means that I have to be more aware of what I say to them, and how I treat them. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never mistreated my kids. But I haven’t always set the best example. I’m going to try to follow the rules I have for the children, so that they can see that I really do believe what I’m teaching them. It means that I’m not allowed to eat an entire box of Oreos in three days. It also means I have to do things in the same way I expect them to, like keeping my workspace organized, just like I expect them to keep their areas tidy. I’ve always been able to rationalize allowing my work areas to be messy because I don’t share mine with anyone else, the way the kids do. But, if I’m keeping my areas messy, then how can I expect them to naturally want to clean up after themselves? It’s a small but effective example. I don’t live by the rules I enforce, and it’s going to stop.
Anyway, that was a tiny bit of a rant, so I’ll stop now, before you all start to think I’m obsessed. Which I am. I just don’t like to put it in your face like that. Except that I’m still doing it. Whatever. I love you guys. Thanks for reading, and thanks for the feed back. It means the world to me that you guys get something out of this random pile of thoughts that I call a blog. I’ll catch you all up later. Wait, that came out really British. I mean that I will catch up with you all later. Whatever again. TTYL.