jjer94

life is high school meatballs. Life is messy. It's like that sloppy meatball dish you ate every Wednesday in high school. A lot of unknown ingredients went into those meatballs. You weren't sure if it was made from animal parts or cretaceous dinosaur meat. The top layer was always slimy. Some of the marinara sauce would make it onto the crotch of your pants. Your classmates would ask if you're on your period as you'd run to the bathroom to wash off the spot. In spite of this, you ate it anyway. And oddly enough, it was enjoyable. You secretly looked forward to pasta Wednesdays. The game of life wouldn't be fun if everything were perfect, certain, and easy. The game is fun precisely because it is imperfect, uncertain, and difficult. Like high school meatballs, you can enjoy life in spite of how messy it is. And really, that's the only way you can enjoy it.

Hi there. You already have Not really. In my experience, neuroses work like whack-a-mole. One will pop up, another will go back into its hole. Whack 'em whenever they come up in your life. It depends on your circumstances. For a college sophomore, I say focus on people skills/relationships, especially if you have anxiety. Why not join a few clubs? You're in the perfect place to do so. Ehh....in my experience, not really. I go by the following rule: introduce at most one new habit per month. You don't want to end up like one of those new years resolution people who says they will work out two hours per day, and then cancels their gym membership two weeks later. You only have so much willpower. Start small. A great habit to start is meditation. Start with two minutes per day. Then next week, up it by another 2. And another two. And so on. Of course! Ideally, new habits will work to resolve them. You're doing great. Just relax. It's not a race. Your mom may have made you an overachiever, but you're off the clock now. Cheers.

One of my biggest fears is... throwing up. Also known as emetophobia. Ever since upchucking in front of everyone at a camp cookout when I was 9, I've been deathly afraid to vomit. When the fear was really bad, I ate until I was not-hungry, not until I was full. I carried around TUMS and ate a couple every day. I got really, really skinny. Any time I was nauseous, I lied down and moaned my way through the pain. I fought not to throw up. Almost a decade after the cookout event, I finally did the technicolor yawn. Twice while I was drunk, once while I was sober. I realized that throwing up is not the problem. The problem is my shame that's linked to vomiting. The problem is surrendering control. The problem is the anticipation. The problem is the feeling that part of me will die. Fortunately, the fear is nearly gone. A couple of practical things that have helped me, in case any fellow emetophobes are reading this: Just surrender. The ultimate solution. If you're nauseous, let yourself throw up. It feels like death at first. But afterwards, you'll feel more alive. Eat good food. Preferably whole foods. Foods that work with your digestive system, not against it. They will settle your stomach. Practice gagging in the morning. This one's weird, but hear me out. When you're stomach's empty in the morning, stick your toothbrush into the gag reflex. Try not to vocalize your gag. Don't worry, you won't vomit. It actually feels pretty good once you get used to it.

@jse

We have a lot in common, friend. We are not as much afraid of people as we are afraid of rejection. Rejection reflects back to us deep inner feelings of deficiency. You know that deep-seated feeling that something is wrong with you? It's a bad feeling. We people-pleasers don't like to feel it. So we avoid those feelings by trying to get everyone to like us. It's tiring work, isn't it? Kind of makes you want to...slink away to the computer? I wrote a couple snippets here and here that may relate to your issues. As for practical advice, I'd say this: Don't fight it. Learn to understand it first. It's not a problem; it's a protection mechanism. Be gentle. Journaling helped me. Sneak up behind it. Instead of approaching it like a new-years-resolutioner would (I'm going to hit the gym three hours per day and eat super healthy!), make it a second priority. First priority is doing things that you actually want to do. Friends will come as a side effect. Start small. Whatever skills you're trying to master, keep going. Join clubs related to those skills. Maybe there's a zen/meditation group around town you can join? You'd meet lots of people there. Socializing becomes a lot less terrifying when you have something in common with the other person. It'll be a safer environment to work on your people-pleasing. Then, take the leap! Anyone you find genuinely interesting, ask them to hang out. Ask yourself what you want from the other person. Social anxiety is due to wanting a certain social outcome. What do you want from the other person? It's best to ask this while you're conversing. Your answer may not even come in words. Be PATIENT. This is a decades-long neurosis you're dealing with. Join an improv class. I did this recently. It's one of the best decisions I've made. You don't have to be a social butterfly. We're still introverts. We still prefer solitude. Don't let anybody tell you that you have to be social a certain number of times per week. The last thing I want to say is a reminder. I know your culture may tell you otherwise, but it's okay to be you. Cheers!

How do you feel infinity for a finite second?

@99th_monkey Whoa! A reader! Thank you

@abgespaced That's...depressingly poetic. I think if you dig down even deeper than "the deepest point where all things are equally lifeless," you'll surprise yourself. You may have to wade through some bad feelings though. I wrote a thought experiment on my blog that may help answer your question. I'll paste it here: what if you were the omega man? In The Omega Man, Neville (played by Charlton Heston) is presumably the last man on earth, defending himself against vampires at night. Otherwise, he does whatever he wants during the day. What if you were the omega man? What if the world were your oyster? What if nothing were at stake? What if there were no reason to do anything? What if there were no audience? What would you do to pass the time? Write songs? Paint? Play chess with yourself? Answer these questions honestly, and you reveal your authentic creative interests. Then ask yourself: What if the world is already your oyster? What if nothing is at stake? What if you already have no reason to do anything? What if an audience is unnecessary? Then what would you do to pass the time? And why aren’t you doing it?

Paradoxically, trying to make the feeling 'last' is what brings you out of the feeling. You can't hold onto any thing. Meditation helps you realize this. The less you hold on or "maintain", the more you realize the effortless stillness that's always there. It's the default.

Nice video. It reminds me of this story: Once upon a time, there was a very hungry jackass. He had to choose between two bales of hay. He wanted both so badly but couldn't decide on which one to eat first. As a result, he starved himself to death. The moral: one thing at a time. Even so, I work on two separate creative ventures. When my momentum lulls in one, I switch over to the other. It keeps things fresh and prevents backsliding.

a word about Gnosis: it ain't gonna buy the groceries.

I don't really see that. Anyway, thanks for sharing! Dayum, I've got to see Book of Eli now. That looks badass. You're making me want to do the same and recite that in the morning...

the emotional fortress of agape. Every night before dinner, I say grace. It’s not your typical Christian grace. I’m not religious, nor am I on very good terms with Jesus. Instead, it’s an informal grace based on a line of dialogue from the movie Joe Versus The Volcano: “Dear God, whose name I do not know. Thank you for my life. I forgot how BIG… Thank you. Thank you for my life.” Upon saying this aloud with gusto, I revisit the emotional fortress of agape. It’s a place overflowing with gratitude, love, and awe for the grand mystery that is life. A positively hopeless place where I know deep down, this is it. A place where there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to be. A place where I can say, “If I died right now, that would be okay.” Then I push out a ceremonial fart on demand and proceed to devour my dinner.

the darkness. The Darkness is your boogeyman. It's all of the things you're afraid of. It's all of the things you don't want to feel. It's all of the existential truths you don't want to face. Your entire life is arranged around protecting you from the Darkness. One of the themes within my Darkness is guilt. Not the kind of guilt you get from committing a crime. It's the guilt that's more existential in nature. The guilt that makes you feel as if you don't deserve to be alive. The guilt that suggests there's something wrong with being yourself. The guilt that says everyone else is deserving of love, but you're not. The following is a showcase of how the Guardian has protected me from this guilt: My minimalistic tendencies: Become a miser and have an easy day job so that you don't have to face the fact that you feel undeserving of higher income. My people pleasing: Become a doormat and acquire external approval so that you don't have to face the fact that you feel defective. My lack of social connections: Be more introverted because you feel undeserving of other people's time and love. My type-a personality: Graduate with straight A's, become enlightened, have a life purpose, produce an album all by yourself, and make no mistakes. Oh, and create a blog. Do all of these things to cover up the feeling that you are an undeserving nobody. I suspect that my revealing all of this to you is reassuring. Yes, don't worry. You're not the only one that's avoiding the Darkness.

Poop

@Simon Håkansson Maybe your competitiveness is a quality you picked up early in life to deal with feelings of inadequacy or "being a nobody". The external approval of winning a game makes you feel adequate. If you lose a game, your old feelings of inadequacy are exposed. To cover them up, you lash out and/or blame the externals. I would avoid calling it a problem. Trying to solve it like a problem will only exacerbate it. What your competitiveness is, is just a way you've protected yourself against bad feelings. Understanding this mechanism better will diminish its power. But you also have to face the feelings you've been running from. Easier said than done. You may want to explore your situation with these questions: What do I feel about myself, deep down? Do I like myself? Or do I see myself as a nobody? Beyond the anger, how do I really feel after losing a game? What do I do directly after losing a game? What was life like before I was ultra-competitive? How did I feel? At what specific point(s) in time did I decide to become competitive? Cheers!

@Prabhaker You make some really eloquent remarks. I'm theorizing though, not complaining. I don't plan on staying in this job much longer anyways.

I hear ya, sister. Currently working a soul-sucking job in retail. Does it feel like: you're expending energy in this job as opposed to gaining it? a chore most of the time? you forgot what happened the past eight hours you've worked? you feel disconnected from your co-workers? you'd rather be doing something else? If so, chances are you're working a soul-sucking job. Or, as you put it, a consciousness-sucking job. Yes, it does seem that the more soul-sucking work you do, you're less creative and more indulgent. That donut looks much more appetizing after hours of frustration. Or you just happen to be horny right when you get home. Or how about you give yourself permission to sit down and watch TV after "a long, hard day of work"? In my experience, these mechanisms are a way to protect you from feeling what you really want to feel about the job. I have a theory about soul-sucking jobs, especially here in America. I feel like the whole 9-5 system has purposely rigged you into having your soul sucked. Short-term gratifications like porn, TV, internet, video games, drinking, and drugs (which happen to be the largest industries here) are all ways to cope with your hatred towards the job. As long as you can get your fix to cover up your feelings, you can keep working at your soul-sucking job without becoming too discontent. And then, the corporations get what they really want: expendable grunts. But who knows. I hope it all gets sorted out for you!

the guardian. There is a Guardian deep within you. He protects you from the Darkness. In order to protect you, he takes extreme measures. He may cause an addiction, have you stay in your comfort zone, or make you backslide on your goals. And for that, you hate him. Your hatred for the Guardian only makes him more vigilant. He sabotages your life until it's nearly in shambles. When you've had enough, you finally turn inward and listen to what the Guardian has to say. "I've been trying to protect you from the Darkness since you were little," he says. "I'm not your enemy, even if it seems that way. Please understand that." A surge of compassion flows within you. You understand now. Ever since early childhood, the Guardian has worked tirelessly. He's the invisible hand behind all of your cravings, your neuroses, your physical ailments, your fears. These are the Guardian's methods for protecting you from the Darkness. You feel tremendous respect for his amazing power. You hug the Guardian. He smiles in your embrace. "Thank you so much for protecting me," you say. "You've done an amazing job. But now I am willing to taste some of the Darkness." He steps aside and lets you taste the Darkness. It tastes like death. However, your presence and willingness to taste the Darkness has made it a little less dark. Nowadays, your relationship with the Guardian has transformed from a cold tug-of-war into a warm friendship. You work with him to continually taste the Darkness. The Guardian is no longer so desperate to protect you. Your cravings, neuroses, physical ailments, and fears have diminished greatly. But whenever the Guardian does bring out your old conditioning, you remember to smile and listen.

I tried to be spider-man. In third grade, I learned that I couldn't choose "superhero" as a career path. At the time, Sam Raimi's Spider-man had been out for a couple years. It was my favorite movie. I watched it more than thirty times. I wanted to be Peter Parker, so I began to emulate his nerdy introverted persona while secretly touting acrobatic badassery. I would dry my hands and feet and prop myself up on a doorframe in the playroom at home, pretending that I had his climbing abilities. Come Halloween, I knew exactly what costume I wanted to wear. The spidey suit I bought at the costume store was abysmal. It had fake pecs and abs that made me look like a satanic version of the Stay-Puft marshmallow man. The colors had that neon quality like glow-in-the-dark piss. And worst of all, it was a size too small. Due to the costume's no-refund status, I had to wear it on Halloween at school. The shame and embarrassment tore me up. The costume itself also tore during class, so my mom (who was a parent volunteer for the day's festivities) had to sew it up while I sobbed like a baby. My grand objective of becoming spider-man was crushed. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fight the fact that I was just an ordinary kid with a spoon-fed life purpose.

From my perspective, your relationship is a red flag. It took me years to realize that I tried to "fix" my friends in order to deny my own deficiencies. I thought I was so noble and giving, helping out my friends, dishing out advice from all the books I've read. What I was really doing was running away from the self-hatred boogeyman. I figured, if I could act as a paragon for others, then maybe with enough external approval I wouldn't hate myself anymore. That never worked. All of those friends? They're no longer my friends. I ruined every single one of those relationships. If you relate to this anecdote, I suggest extreme self-honesty. Ask the difficult questions you don't want to ask: Do you really love him? Or are you afraid of losing him? Are you afraid that if he's gone, you'll have nobody to fix, and you'll have to be alone with your feelings? Are you using spirituality and "unconditional love" as a way to justify staying with him? Do you secretly not want to be with him? Do you like yourself? Are you putting his needs before yours in order to feel better about yourself? Another thing I've learned: trying to control other people is like trying to grab at whizzing clouds. Maybe you've already figured that out. All the best.

battles are lost in the same spirit with which they are won. I cried last week. I do it a lot nowadays. What often happens is that something triggers a sad cry: for my friend's suicide, for my guilt, for life's vanity. But then, out of nowhere, I transition to a hysterical laugh-cry: for gratitude, for the love for everything, for being alive, for the big cosmic joke that is life. Strangely, I don't prefer one mode of crying over another. They're both beautiful and cathartic in their own ways. My man Walt Whitman once wrote that battles are lost in the same spirit with which they are won. I think I get what he means now.

wishing it away. You enter kindergarten wishing it away for primary school. You think, They have the better playground. You enter primary school wishing it away for middle school. You think, I'm too cool for the little kids. You enter middle school wishing it away for high school. You think, There will be much more freedom. You enter high school wishing it away for college. You think, No more tyrannical parents! You enter college wishing it away for young-adulthood. You think, I'll never have to study again. You enter young-adulthood wishing it away for adulthood. You think, I hate being at the bottom of the ladder. You enter adulthood wishing it away for midlife. You think, I just want a family. You enter midlife wishing it away for retirement. You think, I can't wait to be an empty nester. You enter retirement wishing it away for the older days... but you can barely remember them.

@FindingPeace Have you ever heard of the Pacific Crest Trail? It just happens to take around six months to do the whole thing. Maybe something worth checking out.