Looking back

Have you ever listened to a piece of music that takes you back to a completely different point in your life? Back to a point where your innocence was still somewhat intact and the old beliefs, hopes and wishes that once kept you grounded come flooding back as a tsunami of sweetly saddening nostalgia? Back to a time where those infatuations you discovered as you came to terms with the world and what it held for you became everything you lived for?

There's only ever one song that does this for me: Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru. Those of you who happen to be budding fans of the Kingdom Hearts game series will know exactly what song I'm talking about, and you may even understand the feelings that I'm attempting to convey; a beautiful, melancholic reminisce. I'm usually quite good at wording how I feel, but words forever fail me when I try to describe this feeling. It was safe. The point in my life to which I refer was never one of complete joy, was never stable, nor was it one I could ever make complete sense of.

I lived in Amsterdam. I was 11. My family life was turbulent to say the least, my school life was... a slight from the norm, and I had a healthy social life. My family life- my private life- was- well, it just was. It was there. To explain: there was happiness there, but there was also fear. There was anger. There was bottled frustration corked with said fear. Anyway, you get the picture. When the bad erupted, I would hide in books or in games, specifically Kingdom Hearts. I became OBSESSED with the world (or "worlds") I escaped into, finding another purpose to my life than the real one I was reluctant to face. I found joy in the companionship I imagined I had with Sora, Donald and Goofy, and I further delved into fantasy as I read fan-factions that romanticised Sora's and Riku's relationship (the two main guys). I was wholly engrossed in a reality I could never truly be a part of, only observe and construct around my psyche to satisfy my every whim as a means to leave reality behind and pretend. I found a new home in a pretend world because I couldn't face the one I was living in.

So, as I sit here, listening to Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru, I look back on my younger self with those mixed emotions I struggle to describe. It's an almost joyful dread and pride. This was a time when I felt beat down and weighted, but I kept myself propped up by a fraction of hope for a life that wasn't real; I kept going to live another day in that world because it was the only world that mattered- it was the only world that was safe. It was my world where nothing could hurt me and everything was perfect, which brings me to where, I believe, the sadness comes from: I had perfection in my hands. A fraction of it, granted, but it was perfection. As I've grown older, there is less perfection to be observed and more fault to be found in the concept itself. I envy my old self for being able to carelessly escape into that alternate life while I am made to face my hardships and take control of this reality- the only way I will feel safe once more.

I realise I needed that escape when I needed it. I may wish for it now but it is not necessary, and it would be self-detrimental to slip back into that old world. I can't go back there, but I can look back on it with gratitude. I look back with thanks, as I know the boy I used to be still lives there, innocence in-hand as he eternally exists in place I was made to leave behind- in a place I let him be. He and I are two different people now; I left my childhood behind before I had to because it didn't feel fair for me to bring the child I was along with me. We parted with a sad smile, knowing I was doing best, knowing that somewhere, I would always exist in an eternal content.

I guess the purpose of this post is just to share. I felt like talking and this seemed like the best medium to use for uninterrupted, flowing thought. I have no advice, no guidance, no wise words or obscure analogies. I just wanted to write. I wanted to make sense of these feelings that I equally love and dread, and this seemed like the only way I have of reasoning such a myriad of emotion- which I have! At least to a degree anyway. I'll never truly understand it- nor do I really want to- but having attempted to understand, I feel better already.

As they say, "sometimes you have to look back in order to move forward". I just need to finish looking back.

Thanks for reading, guys.

Update: exercise

So I've been in this uncertain state lately- a state of neglected indecision which I've been unable to counter for my inability to diagnose the cause. It's been this teetering of options, each switching out every moment or so; each option no more alluring than the other yet equally as compelling as the last. The whole things is an emotional sedative, putting all but my basic sentiments to rest as I move through the hours, like a projection light watches snap-shot moments flicker past without a care for contemplation. I struggle to set goals because I don't know which to aim for. I'm massively demotivated because I can't find a direction that motivates me. I'm at a cross-roads with no sign and no compass. But that's enough of that- I'm getting better, which is why I'm writing today!

So, surprise surprise, the thing I've avoided doing for so long has been the light I needed to find the way... so to speak. I started exercising. I mean, I've only been exercising today... for about 15 minutes... when I went jogging before work. But that set the precedent for the whole day! Since, I've felt as thought I'm filled with energy, far more positive and surprisingly more decisive. Obviously I don't expect this to be the miracle cure to my problems, but it should certainly help me to stay a little more positive and driven, hopefully leading to a snowball effect where I just get better and better instead of peaking high then dipping low, like a rudimentary line graph depicted in some child's picture book.

The purpose for posting this was simply to update you on how my journey is going; I have less and less to say about my condition lately, and even less to advise. The reason for this is solely the result of the way I've felt, which I addressed in the first paragraph- I stagnated. Anyway, guys, try exercise. I may have only done a day of it but I already feel a little better and I can see how I might apply it to to my life in order to improve both my mental and physical state. Exercise is no cure, but it will certainly help.

Take care :)

Netflix and kill

Hello,

     It's been a while, hasn't it. I apologies for my distance of late, I've not been handling my own company too well these days and have been immersing myself in the distractions that come with having a social life. I did, at first, think I was getting better; climbing from my dark to join those others in the light - sort of normalising, I suppose. It turns out I wasn't. After what feels like months of daily interactions with vast numbers of people- both old friends and new acquaintances- I have crashed.  I have lazily rocked into the shore for simple relief from the waves. I did not look, I did not dock, I did not pay. I just rocked up and out, onto the cushioned sands of Bedroom, stocked up on my lover, Food, then Netflix and killed the time away. My mind fell numb as I traversed the Delta Quadrant in Star Trek: Voyager, wondering, too, if my eventual destination was as unfathomably distant as theirs (70,000 light years away for those who haven't watched), or if I was heading down my own structurally unsound wormhole, a heading of 20 years past, in a bid to achieve the naivety and innocence that lead life to feel so magical so early on. Alas, I gave myself a kick and told myself to stop being silly. I won't go anywhere fast when my thoughts are pulling me so low, and a journey into the past is never what I need.

     For what it's worth, the reason I haven't been able to write is because I've simply been avoiding myself for the fear of knowing what I'd be facing: the same man as before, just shaken up from his weeks a sea. What I wasn't thinking was that I'd be the same man as before, just in need of a little more patience for self to come back around.

     These social weeks have been exhausting. They've also been incredibly helpful. While exhausted, I feel invigorated by the prospects that life has to offer when of a healthier state of mind. I am, for the first time in a long time, excited for myself. I'm excited for myself because I can see the person I can be when I am active and driven- it's been a long time since I encountered extended periods of time in which I behaved that way. So, yes, I may be exhausted by this lively and exciting period, but I'm leaving with a new drive to get better instead of carrying a solemn, self-perpetuated prediction of failure.

I will do this. I will win.

Men and masculinity

      There is nothing more ironic than a man's sensitivity toward his masculinity. We live in a world where the only time men seem to avoid criticism of their tears is when their football teams are losing (the tragedy) or their mothers are dying. If it's anything else, you best suck those tears back in, boy! Girls cry, not men! You get my drift? We live in a world where men are told that any show of vulnerability or emotion is to be "like a girl", as though the female gender is the ultimate deterrent. As a result, we see men who seldom express their feelings, seldom address their issues, seldom talk, and seldom cry. We see figures that show men have the highest suicide rates, yet, inversely, more women seek counselling.

     Before I go on, I'd like to point out that this is less of a personal issue and more of a general one. I have come to terms with myself in regards to this, I just want others to be able to recognise what's wrong about it. There won't be much descriptive here, more informative/advisory. However, please enjoy. :)

     We only need take a century-long step back to see how this all started: men used to be very touchy- it was no big deal because friends touch; touch is a key part of forming emotional bonds and connections. Only when homosexuality gained more notoriety after World War 2 (it was more or less ignored and hardly spoken of before) because of the Nazi concentration camps, gay prisoners wearing pink triangles, etc. did people start caring as much. Gay people were portrayed as effeminate, to be effeminate is to be like a woman, to be like a woman is bad because women were seen as the lesser folk (this is also why pink was made the colour for women and blue for men- it WAS vice versa). It sucks! So, naturally, femininity was sniffed out of every aspect of the male man, leaving those who're sensitive or effeminate by nature to be ostracised, targeted, and attacked. There's the history of it anyway- we allowed our society to be shaped by the actions of a regime we were looking to snuff out. We got rid of the Nazis, yet we utilised their wrongdoings to hone in on aspects of life that our Church loving society deemed unsavoury and sinful. Take sin from sin to make the world go 'round!

     To me, the history behind this is deterrent enough to cut off from "traditional" masculinity and return to a time when men would talk, bond, connect! Walk down the streets as you laugh, arm in arm; run to embrace that friend you haven't seen in years- screw a hand shake! What I'm getting at is that you don't have to hide behind a straight face if you're feeling like crap, nor do you have to stay silent when something is on your mind. Talk. It really does the world of good. Not only does it improve your state, but those around you will see said improvements and soon follow suit. Lead the revolution against the repression of expression because it is quite literally killing us- if not suicide, then stress!

     I'd like to, but I can't say there's much else to advise on this because it's really a journey of your own- it'll take a lot of digging and much more adjusting; you'll probably experience various feelings and sensations you've successfully avoided for so long that they just don't feel right! However, I've often found that feeling worse is an indicator of something good to come. It's like working hard throughout a project: the work to get to the end is laborious and mostly tedious, but your success comes with completion and the sense of achievement that follows.

Good luck, men. May you be happy!

Happiness

Today feels more like a celebration than a contemplative search for self-consolation; I feel happy. So let me tell you of my happiness for once instead of my sorrows! Every aspect of emotion should be addressed, should it not?

I have noticed, over the past week or so, that I've been much more social, much less introverted, and a lot more active. It's great to feel this way again! However, I won't pretend that everything is sunshine and daisies. It's more like taking a cake out of the oven: it may stay raised, but it may also collapse in the middle. Who knows?! That's the problem with this sort of stuff: it's riddled with uncertainty, especially when you can feel first-rate one day and terrible the next. I know this extroverted lifestyle won't last too long because people exhaust me (seriously, guys, you drain the life from me)! Each social interaction thickens my skin as the touch and words of others become static. I just have to take some days of recluse to shed that skin in order to emerge, rested and renewed. Social hibernation, I guess!

If you've read my previous posts, you'll notice that this harkens back to an earlier one I made about surrounding yourself with friends and loved ones, like one might surround themselves with allies in a war; you need your connections- whatever help or support you can get, it's vital. This is going to be a difficult process, so sometimes those closest can be your only sanctum in a world that's crowded by your own thoughts- sometimes you just need to let another voice in, or let someone break your voice out. Your loved ones are an important lifeline: one you should never sever, merely slacken it when necessary. Don't be afraid to tell people how you're feeling. I know vulnerability doesn't feel great, nor does the feeling of burdening others with your problems, but just as you listen to your friends, they'll listen to you, too, because that's what friends will always do.

You may find yourself jaw-locked in your attempts to communicate how you feel. My body has this awesome mechanism of defence where it just shuts down, removing all but basic emotion, stifling my vocal ability. It's a dam my mind saw fit to build in order to stop the flood of words that'd drown my victim's ears. Of course, once I opened side channels for a steady flow of sentences, little by little it became easier. My dam is still there, but it guards less water. In time, I won't need it. In time; I'll speak freely without shame, I'll speak without a sense of burdening, I'll speak with a new sense of weightlessness as I drop the sandbags and take to new horizons! But most importantly, I'll just speak. Years of bottling moments, emotions, thoughts and compulsions will be rectified- brandishing my renewal in one hand and weaponising my voice in the other, I'll knock those bottles from dusty shelves, cast them to the ground to relinquish my mind to the demons it has hidden away for so long; I created these demons so only I can destroy them, just as you can destroy yours.

Good luck, guys! We can win this together. ☺

Regression

I really don't know what to write any more. I'm struggling again!

My brain seems to have lassoed itself to a fence post and started re-runs of old episodes on a nearby rock to keep me entertained; I've found myself regressing to old ways of thinking where I escape into stories and scenarios, living various lives through adventurous tracks of thought. I won't lie, these thoughts are much better than my usual sense of lacklustre and despondency, but they aren't real. My own head is forcing me back into a nursery room of colours, toys and teddies, beyond which lies a post-apocalyptic waste that's haunted by memories of once-was and of those oppressed- those hidden in caverns I dare explore for the sake of discovery and betterment of self. I enjoy the escape but despise the impending deposition, like a king to be overthrown for abstaining from the care of his kingdom. I need to face reality and care for my kingdom. Were I to care for a kingdom, would I allow foundations to crumble for fear of the work it takes to repair them? No. So why do I allow such things to happen to myself? Why do I willingly allow myself to draw back into the safety of a pretend world to avoid facing my issues? Especially considering my matching willingness to better myself.

Sometimes I fall to my thoughts and call myself weak because I see no other reason for my behaviour, but then I realise I am strong because I choose to face these problems in hopes of stamping them out. I don't actually live in that pretend world any more because I can't afford to; if I want to make it in this life, then I need to face it and make it my own, not hide away and lose myself as I have for many years before now. There are many kinds of closets, and this one is mine. Slowly but surely, I'm edging out toward the light on the other side of the room, and when I get there, I'll be waiting for those of you trying to escape, too.

Apologies

      I apologise for having neglected my blog so early on in it's development but I've been somewhat busy/distracted/demotivated. I'm struggling to explain exactly why because I don't really know why I've distanced myself so soon. I suppose it might be down to my vulnerability beginning to show- something I'm not quite used to; throughout most of my growing life, I've been subject to silence for fear of the repercussions that may come from speaking. I've hidden behind a face because my voice makes me feel too visible to those who might harm, manipulate, demean or invade me. Talking is difficult- not with everyone, but with most. I have my select few who I can talk to, though I seldom tell anybody everything; I hardly speak of my true thoughts and feelings for fear of what people might say or do. I feel like a stigma, ironically, the very aspect of mental illness I aim to dispel.

      This post won't be very long today, unfortunately. This is it. Short and simple. A small snippet of thought that I needed to get out there, and to inform those who read, that I have not forgotten. I just need space from my own thoughts. I need time to clarify. I promise a better post next time.


Take care, thanks for your patience.