ANGER IN THE KEY OF C-SHARP MINOR

Minor keys often have melancholy, plaintive laments,
More so than jarring stridency,
Unless a sudden dissonance intrudes;
And, so it is with my anger.
Slow to form, with an undercurrent of counterpoint,
Spoken and developed in individual voices,
Like a late Beethoven quartet,
Or, maybe, even more, one by Shostakovich.
I don’t even realize that I am angry until the score plays out,
Usually about halfway through the third movement.
Then, a diminished seventh lingers, a four-part pedal point, if you will,
Until the cello transitions out, into a growling presto ostinato,
And I can no longer deny to my conscious self that I am angered,
As my emotions now move attacca, without pause,
Into a final movement,
Where resolution is supposed to be found,
But, per the style of musica moderna,
Is not guaranteed.
— Dec. 14, 2010

Love after lovelessness

LOVE AFTER LOVELESSNESS

Love
Was a word rarely heard
Rarely used, rarely spoken,
And certainly, rarely remembered
In one aching, yearning man’s
Childhood household.

Combine sexual abuse
And exhibitionism with twists;
Add in religious fundamentalism
About human sexuality
In this childless household.

Finally, take emotional coldness
Anger, controlling, and
Distancing both physical and emotional,
And you have a childhood household
That rarely modeled love
As well as rarely speaking of it.

Sex was seen as not just dirty
But also controlling and manipulative.
However, with love largely absent,
Sex filled a gap.

And the word ‘love,’
When spoken to me post-sobriety
On the phone by a once-raging father,
Seemed as manipulative as
A mom’s sexual exposure and spoken delusions
Had to a teenaged, hurting child.

I am more than my story.
I have grown beyond it, at least in bits,
But it would be a lie
To simply say, ‘I am not my story,’
Though I need to detach yet more.

If you know me well, as you do,
You know that. And I know you do.
Something can be both true and excuse-making.
I recognize more who and what I want,
If but in fits and spurts, too.

And I know that life isn’t always perfect,
Especially in its timing.

The Donner Party, struggle and motivation

California was a land of lore and lure even before John Marshall found gold traces in 1848.

Farming, ranching, mild climate and vast unclaimed, untamed acres all called across the Sierras to Americans, even before the land had been wrested from Mexico.
Among those listening?

Jacob Breen and family. George Keseberg. And, the eponymous Donner family.

Unlike the Founding Fathers, these people had no fortunes to give. But they did give most of what money they had to make the trip. And, they certainly, in cases such as Jacob Breen, had honor, whether sacred or not, to pledge to their fellow travelers.
While on vacation recently, I visited some Donner Party sites. Though I had driven I-80 before through the area, I had never gotten off the freeway at the Donner State Party site. And, since I had come from the north, on a California state highway site, about 7-8 miles north of the interstate, I saw the Donner Meadows, where the Donners themselves wintered in 1846-47.

I asked myself, rhetorically, what would I be willing to do to get to California today? How much work would I be willing to expend? How much of my current “baggage” would I be willing to discard? What is my goal in getting to California — am I moving to something or just away from something?

I haven’t pondered those questions too much yet. Maybe I’m deliberately avoiding them a little bit. Maybe, like many other things in life, I want a surer goal before committing to them more.

That said, let me look at the Donners more. Yes, they knew about California the potential agricultural paradise. But, gold had not yet been discovered. They were simply looking for a better life, not to get rich.

Beyond that, how much am I willing to surrender of my old self for change today, in general? As I get older, do I get more attached to what I already have? Less willing to take risks?

How much is pain in my current life, combined with hope for the future, going to be a motivator?
And, by the time I had gotten back home, or soon afterward, I had at least one additional question for myself.

Is the desire to move to California a search for a “geographic cure” for issues that need help in other ways?

All good questions. To some of them, I don’t yet consciously know the answers, though I may have partial answers in my subconscious. Others I can answer more fully right now.

As for a geographic cure? No. I’ve been interested in moving to California for years.
As for pain as a motivator? It may continue to grow, and maybe I need that.

And, “surrender,” or another term? How much am I willing to let go of old attachments, such as what job or career path I should or should not follow, how much anxiety I can tolerate in daily life and more? At least at the conscious level, I don’t have answers here, though I suspect that I have more letting go to do — letting go of preconceptions about myself, letting go of attachments to old emotional patters, and things like that.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donner_party

Boundaries and others, growth and relationships

I've upset someone. I've more than just "upset" this person; they are angry/sad, and say they have lost trust in me.

Then, after being chewed out strongly, very strongly, over this ... I argued back.

I'll admit (as this person said) that I "fired back" in part out of defensiveness. Entirely so, though? No.

I raised some real issues, which I had been holding on to for a while, and said I had some real anger myself.

Relationships are real ... and I hate using the word "practice" as part of growth.

At the same time, this person knows I have trouble expressing anger, especially.

Anyway, I have apologized since then. And, said I'd like to talk more about the emotions I triggered, and some fears this person has related to that. Right now, though, I appear to be getting the cold shoulder.

At the same time, this person has heard me say, and I believe more than once, "I don't play games, and I don't chase." I have dropped a follow-up "Hi, how are you e-mail," but, am not sure how much more I should say, and with what timing, without risk of violating what is a major boundary issue for me. I'm not sure what I should say without risk of being thought a game-player myself.

Life hurts at times, it is true.

Obviously, some ongoing patience here is part of the situation. But, when does patience become "drift"?

That said, back to revealing boundaries.

I know I absolutely stunned my dad when, after I had a bit of sobriety time, I told him, albeit by mail, not on the phone, let alone in person, how much I feared him as a child, just what was happening under his roof and nose in terms of sexual abuse and other things, and more. "Passive, pliable Steve" suddenly had a bit of backbone and a bit of self.

Throwing out the defensiveness/attacking part of my response to my friend, I do wonder if there's a bit of shock with this person, too. And, beyond that, how much we may be able to talk about these issues without a fair amount of time-water under the bridge, for a number of reasons.

I still don't know that one, either. But, an intuitive suspicion says it could be some time ... and I'm talking months, not weeks. And, that assumes this person will want to talk to me on that level at that time.

Meanwhile, back on "my side of the street." Part of my is sad, part is lonely, part is anxious, part is frustrated, part is a bit apathetic or "drifting" already. Because I've been single all my life, and not just in the sense of "unmarried," but without much real, longer-term relationships, and careful with close friends of either sex, it's kind of "easy" for me to drift like that.

That said, is my not wanting to "chase," and not telling more about my feelings as part of that, itself a form of games-playing? It's complicated.

Loneliness, with a touch of anger

Occasionally, I get pangs of loneliness. I realize now how much I hid my own loneliness from myself as a kid. In some cases, it's almost as if the whole emotion was suppressed in a quasi-Freudian way. In other cases, it's like it was nearer the surface of consciousness and I didn't quite beat it down without the help of alcohol or other things.

I don't know how much of this is natural avoidance due to gene-based anxiety tendencies, how much of it was lack of family emotional interaction (at least "good" emotions), how much of it was noncommittalness in attempts to avoid put-downs, let-downs and rejections both inside and outside of the family, how much of it was due to abuse, or what.

But, I walled off a lot, with a lot of layers. A few people recognize that; I've told more people. In any case, not just women are psychologically, or emotionally complex. And, at least in the U.S., men like me who can be that way at times are probably more puzzling than women.

I'm feeling both the loneliness and aloneness more at times now.

And, currently, feeling a touch of anger over issues partially related to that, and partially independent.

I care

I CARE

I care;
I care when I say “I don’t care”;
I care that I say “I don’t care”;
I care when I think I actually mean that I don’t care;
I care that a defense mechanism may be too imbedded.

Why would I not care?
Lots of reasons.
Seeing other people not care about me.
Feeling other people not care about me.
Feeling powerless to care about myself.
Seeing no guarantees results when I tried to care about myself.
Feeling hopeless about the result of asking for care from others.

So, I didn’t care.
Or acted like I didn’t.
Meanwhile, buried with repressed anger
Against both myself and others,
Repressed anxiety, and other repressed emotions,
Was repressed care.
For myself, above all else.
But for other people, too.
I hope.

June 30, 2010

Envy, anger, and more

I have been realizing in the past couple of weeks that I have a lot of repressed envy, not just repressed anger. My envy is more, but by no means entirely, on the nonmaterial side, i.e., of people's social skills, relationship skills, starting sexual relationship skills,job-hunting skills, etc.

That said, I do envy, to some degree, other people's material possessions. There, I envy them as much for the putative security of having a higher income than I do, having a house (especially if not overbuying a McMansion), etc. Some things, like the job skills, or job-hunting skills, are partially materialistic, in the degree that material means connect in part to immaterial ends.

And, I am beginning to wonder if repressed envy of others and repressed anger at myself don't go a bit hand in hand.

Road maps for life

A COFFEE-STAINED ATLAS

Analogies. Metaphors. Deeper meanings.
My atlas is a road map in more ways than one.
Torn, tattered, browned pages of internal road trips;
Nostalgic for past journeys to American wonder,
Hopes for future getaways,
And the emotional escapes and release of both.
I haven’t opened my atlas so much recently,
Nor looked as much at old photo albums of past trips.
The nostalgic side of that atlas has little savor
At this moment, and its hint of future escapes
Is almost equally dry to my lips.
If life is an eternal now, a succession of present moments,
Then past and future gain flavor from the taste of today
And my reflecting on them.
I may need to break metaphorical bread together
And share an atlas printed for two.

Little round balls ... family of origin thoughts

LITTLE BROWN BALLS

I told my sister once that we weren’t a family when we were growing up.
Nope. Not a family. Not at all.
If by family, we mean not just white picket fence stereotypes but also harmony, communication and caring.
Of, sure, we ate all our meals together, but that was a surface event.
Mom talked about her work, her coworkers — one in particular — and other minutia of that social circle.
Dad talked about church parishioners, sometimes things in town, and other minutia of his circle.
Neither made much effort to enter the other’s circle, with a husband-and-wife version of Alphonse and Gaston playing out every night at the dinner table.
And certainly, neither one reached out to any of five children-siblings at that dinner table, not like Ward or June Cleaver.
I will not offer a simile to soften a metaphor.
We were seven individual balls of shit,
Not behind a white picket fence of outward family nicety,
But inside a swirling white commode of separate lives,
Or so it seems to me.
Although I still have trouble with expressing my emotions
As an adult, with hindsight, I look back and see one of my childhood “roles” as the family emotional sponge.
Maybe that’s part of why I have trouble expressing my emotions today.
Shit stinks and disgusts.
And a self-conscious ball of shit that “knows” it — that believes it and feels it — is probably going to hurt a lot, even if not self-conscious of it.
But flushing the mental toilet doesn’t flush all the memories. Or beliefs. Or perceptions. Of what life seemed to be.

Impulse controls

Saying NO and impulse control. They're connected. Maybe not exactly the same. "Just say no" is, not counting Nancy Reagan, a bit simplistic, or more than a bit. But, they're on the same continuum. And, whether over sex-related issues, especially while online, or some other things, I do have some issues with impulse control.

Not in all things, though. I quit smoking, and drinking.

That said, part of any impulse control issues I do have may be related to yearning for comfort against anxiety, even without any of my childhood abuse. And, so, "getting stuck" may be a flip side of impulse control.

Anger, anger, anger

Just today, with about 20 minutes of journaling, after talking with a friend online on Yahoo Messenger and other things, I realized I have touched another layer of the onion in realizing I have serious anger repression.

That goes hand in hand with anger management, assertiveness management, working for my wants and desires and more.

The anger is at various other people, starting with parents. As an adult, it's also anger at me. The events are all passed, all water under the bridge. But, this river I call my life, a Humean stream, doesn't change, it is the same river, because I don't leave it. So, learning, learning, learning more about this anger is important.

Friends, online interaction and more

I've had some more "learning experiences" recently. Without naming names, or other things, I've learned that:

1. At least one theoretically enlightened person from theoretically enlightened San Francisco is either clueless enough, or else morally repugnant enough while being hung up on herself enough, to either actually believe that sexual abuse makes boys become gay men, or else to want to believe that when a man doesn't come on to her. This woman never considered the fact that a man might see what seemed like clear "control" techniques coming out of her.

1A. She appears to be less than enlightened about gay issues in general. She says I might be gay, beyond her belief that her charms weren't enough to allegedly "convert" me, in a sense that being gay is "less than." Again, someone theoretically enlightened from a theoretically enlightened bastion of liberalism.

2. That even a few, or several, months of knowing someone purely from online interactions, is not to know too much.

I won't say more, though I could say a lot more.

I am keeping this person's e-mail, though. And, not even putting it in a separate folder. I'm keeping it in my inbox. Not to stew on it, but as a reminder.

Not just a reminder to be more careful about online trust, but, as a reminder to continue my personal growth, including to be even more aware of other people's personalities.

As for this person? Beyond anger, I felt disgust.

Beyond that, though?

Without wanting to sound condescending, I feel sad for her. In my honest opinion, every personality diagnosis she made of me in that e-mail could, in my opinion, be made of her. But, part of me doesn't even care. I am safe. What she said can't harm me.

As for the gay comments, ultimately, if I am correct about where they come from in her belief system, here, I'm back to disgust and anger, because that's insulting to countless thousands of gay men who were sexually abused as boys and who weren't "made" gay by the abuse.

I have seen grown men crying, accepting in their heads but not their hearts, that they are gay, and wondering if the abuse "made them that way." This woman's e-mail to me was not (just) an assault on me but on all these men and countless others.

And, as for control issues? Even after our friendship, or what had seemed friendship, had started drifting, for her to ask if I would visit her while on vacation in California this summer seems to me to show that she's lying even to herself.

Gratitude list, June 1, 2010

1. I woke up sober today
2. I woke up and didn't see my name in the obituaries today. (Unless I'm REALLY depressed, that should feel like good news, right?)
3. I didn't die because I had trouble sleeping last night.
4. I didn't die because I didn't fight the sleep issue and I didn't stay in bed really, really late.
5. I didn't panic over my fears of being trapped.
6. I accept that life sucks, but it does for others, too.
7. I accept that it's not always a total tomb here.
8. I recognize group dynamics, and can figure more ways to work around them.
9. I may not be "thriving" right now, but I'm not dying on the vine.
10. I'm being prodded, and responding, even if oh so slowly, to expand my career focus and search.

When "I don't care" hides that I really do

Often, "I don't care" hides that I DO care and am worried about emotional attachment.

I may say "I don't care" if supervisors are worried about my internet usage, but really I am worried about that, and trying to hide my worry, or control anxiety levels or something.

I may say "I don't care" about my current life feeling kind of boring, but really, I do care, but feel frustrated at not being able to do more about it, or at least thinking I can't.

I may say "I don't care" about another person liking me, but really, I do care, but am not sure how I want to respond, whether it's due to old trust issues or something else.

In short, "I don't care" is a defense mechanism.

It's old. It's learned from a childhood of seeing people often either not care, or pretend to care for ulterior motives.

Caring, even about my own inner emotions, is scary.

Cliques and claques in support

I haven't written here for a while, but wanted to get some thoughts out.

My main sobriety support group is still going through some fallout over changes in the chat room, including more careful enforcement of previous chat guidelines, combined with further detailing of those guidelines in the more recent past.

Some people, a combination of a couple of people who got themselves banned for deliberately challenging the rules and others who stayed away more and more in sympathy, ultimately started their own blog and eventually embedded chat software in it. (It's not hard; heck, Yahoo Messenger lets you create temporary chat rooms.)

Since then, a few more people have been banned while some of those choosing to visit the Lifering chat have done so even less. That said, there's still sniping, and some "recruiting" by people who have left.

And, yes, that will get you banned.

It's still sad, though. And, the more this drags on, the sadder it gets.

If you've made your choice to leave Lifering, then accept it. The current convenor head and No. 2 aren't leaving any time soon.

At the same time, it's also sad to see that it still has a bit of effect on people still there. Like me. Like the No. 2, it appears. And perhaps others.

I had been thinking about writing here for a few days, but, with a new thread on Lifering's Ning page, which I decided to wade into for one, and only one, reply, I decided to go ahead here, too.

Sobriety groups are recovery groups, too

Two things on my mind tonight.

First?

It hurts me, angers me and scares me when people "go back out," and it's because they've either not reached out, whether to other sober people, or to a counselor, especially if they have depression or other mental health needs, OR, it's because they've let an anger, a resentment, eat at them. And, I'll be selfish enough to say I want it to scare me.

Second, is that I'm a bit of a resentment mode myself, not about someone in a sobriety group, but, in another group. I know part of the anger is based on my perceptions, and part of it's based on my reactions to how this person reminds me of two males from my childhood. That said, I feel confident in saying that it's not "just" my perception, or my perception plus my personal history. I really think this person has a couple of issues. And, as part of my growth, rather than "detaching" in a way that feels like passivity to me, I need to do something else. I'm not sure what it is, but, I'm groping in that direction.

Online friends, complications, distancing and loss

The last time I blogged here, it was about "fallout" from some changes in an online sobriety support chat room where I've had various degrees of activity for several years.

Looks like another friend may be lost due to that — although I had multiple observations about this person even before the dust-up, to be honest.

Anyway, it looks like a friendship with XXX really is on ice. Friday morning, I noticed AAA and BBB had both friended XXX on Facebook, even though heshe had said in the past s/he didn’t do that. So, I sent himer a friend request query, noting himer's former policy and asking if s/he had possibly changed it, especially not being in the chat so much now, without saying I had noticed s/he had friended others.

The answer would appear to be a definite no. First, XXX appears in chat Friday night with a bit of “sniping,” and, while none of it was directly focused at me, heshe didn’t go out of her way to be friendly, either.

Then, looking at FB later, I noticed that, while in chat or about that time, s/he friended Kathy B. But not me.

Some part of me WANTS revenge, or grudge-holding. Another part says, detach. A third part (that’s why there’s never just two sides to anything) says I want confrontation, but not (necessarily) grudge-holding. I’m a bit sad. I’m a bit angry.

I don’t want to be too much more of either. Well, even that isn’t entirely true. Some part of me wants to wallow. But not a lot. Some part of me wants to blow up. Some part of me wants to be snide, or "sniping," back.

Update, April 13: Call it a bit of spite, a bit of revenge, a bit of righteous and/or non-righteous anger, a bit of pride, or a mix of several or all of the above...

But, I found out today, after checking (and it makes sense) that one can withdraw, retract Facebook friending requests. And I have done so.

Sobriety groups, friends, friends possibly lost, and more

A "dust-up" has occurred in the last 4-5 days in the chat room for my primary source of sobriety support. At least one person has been banned, for good reason, one for a reason I'm not sure about but I don't have time to track down every bit of information myself, and a couple of others are staying away most of the time now.

One person that was banned could relatively easily get back in, but the more this person rages against the machine, the more crow there is that will eventually need to be eaten for re-admission.

The sad part is that I considered this person, and one person who is staying away, to be online friends, not just acquaintances, and was hoping to meet in person the one who is staying away, the next time I vacationed in California.

But, both of them are likely lessened in their friendship for me. And, since friendship is a two-way street, my friendship for them will probably lessen, too. I don't actively want it to, but if I have less contact with them, that will be the result.

The others that I know have been banned? One, sadly, needed it, and probably needs some sort of professional help. The second? Someone who could be a nice guy, and a friend to people, even, but often chose to be an instigator of unnecessarily attacking people. And, if he had any "issues" behind that, he wouldn't talk.

Contra Rodney King, no we can't all get along.

And, as I told one of the people above, "I don't 'chase.'"

Life is short; and fear?

LIFE IS SHORT 2

Ars longa, vita brevis.
So goes the ancient Latin saying —
“Art is long but life is short.”
I would like to amend that:
Ars longa, timor longior.
“Art is long, but fear is even longer.”
Choices we want to make, we fear making —
Fearing rejection, failure or other results.
And, it’s not just fear.
Let me include frustration,
Disappointment, and more,
Under the rubric of timor.
Missed chances, rejected chances and rejected choices
Have left me often alone,
Even when my desire was clearly otherwise.
I don’t fully understand myself,
But I wish I had a daily mirror to reflect me,
And let me reflect her,
To see what love can be,
While yet retaining some of my skepticism
About what it is not.
But I am afraid my skepticism,
Part natural, part protective, part timorous,
Will remain an albatross,
Even when I am ready for a mirror,
And ready to swim against the tides of chance
To be with one.

— March 18, 2010

Empathy for a person who claims to have none?

Yes, it's possible. The person isn't capital-E evil; just damaged by life. That said, part of the damage appears to be a lack of empathy for others, without even trying to learn whether their own backgrounds are as damaged/damaging as his/hers. In other words, not wanting to try to be empathetic.

It would be easy to be unempathetic for this person; besides her/his own lack of outreach, is a sometimes brusque personality, that is itself part of the larger picture.

But, this person isn't capital-E evil and has redeeming qualities, in potential as well as actuality, of emotion, intellect and psyche.

That also said, this person is a full decade older than me. How "reachable" he/she is, even by mental health professionals, I have no idea.

Dreaming of various things...

I don't know whether I'm having more memorable dreams recently because the mix of a mini-dose of Celexa plus OTC amino acids is kicking in enough now, whether it's mental on my side without the help, a bit of both, or what. I do think my anxiety at my current job and location in O-dessa, Texas, have peaked.

That said, I had a pretty memorable dream about running up and down various floors in the inside of an older New York City skyscraper, like the Empire State Building or maybe the Chrysler Building. At the very end of the dream, I ran into my dad, who did not come off as accusatory or judgmental.

I think this is about general life worries. Am I chasing up and down blind alleys, like I ran into on some stairwells inside the bowls of the building? Does my life in general seem bland or blank? Am I wanting dad to make a decision for me? Give me guidance he never really did?

A day of AR at the office

OK, at the copy desk here at my current daily newspaper, another copy editor does initial proofreading of a page, then, after we make corrections, we print a second copy and the news editor or assistant reads that. If he or she really don't like the page, they'll make us do a third proof.

But, a third proof after marking just one change on the second proof? That's anally retentive, from where I am.

It's easy to see how playing lotteries becomes tempting.

Thoughts on self-wisdom

You know more than you think you know.

The shortcomings of cognitive behavioral therapy

A chapter in Jonah Lehrer's book, "How We Decide," along with a famous quote by David Hume, brought the title of this post to stark light.

Don't get me wrong. CBT is good to very good for mild, moderate and medium depressions. It's the bee's knees for panic attacks. In combination with densensitization therapy, it's very good for a lot of phobias.

But other neuroses, it might not help so much.

Lehrer talks about psychopathy in the latter portion of his book, and how psychopaths can read the emotions of others so well, but have no emotional connectivity to their own minds, so can rationalize, in a confabulating fashion, any decisions they may choose to take.

Autistic people, on the other hand, are just the reverse. They have an emotional life of their own, but simply cannot read other people's emotions.

Combine this with Hume's famous, and somewhat deliberately contrarian, observation that "reason is the slave of the passions," and you see CBT's shortcomings.

CBT says we can think our way through emotions.

Well, psychopaths can't. To the degree we can talk about a lesser version of them, and call that group "neuropaths" by analogy, they can't think their way through emotions very well. And, in a sense, autistic people can't think their way into emotions, if you will.

So, on counseling for emotional-based mental health issues where the emotions aren't irrational, or transcend the rational/irrational in some sense, being deeply rooted in the limbic brain (think PTSD), CBT really just can't cut the mustard.

Unfortunately, some CBT, or RBT (forgetting the "E") aficionados think it's almost a cure-all, or at the least, that it can do more than it can.

Thoughts on lemons and lemonade

If life gives you lemons, take a pitcher off your shelf, take a pee in it, and tell people you've made lemonade out of the lemons.

Sarcasm aside, if you don't feel like trying to handle adversity with perky positivity, a little humorous sarcasm may work better.

Through a bit of an emotional wringer

I should put "bit" in scare quotes. Already anxiety-festooned over my current newspaper job here in Odessa, Texas, I got offered a job, then had it pulled back away, all in just six hours.

I had a phone interview to be named the editor, and general manager in training, at a weekly paper near Dallas. Ideal!

Was tentatively offered the job over the phone, then the publisher said he'd like to meet in person just to give himself final assurance.

No problem, I said. I'll drive to Dallas this weekend.

Well, less than five hours later, I get this message in an e-mail:

The powers that be with the chain have decided to move things in a different direction.

Sheiss!

That said, it's the second time in 10 months I've had an "interesting" interview situation with this newspaper chain.

I'll be very gun-shy in the future.

Right now, I'm pretty drained.

But sober.