silentrun

Congratulations on 5 years EndGame.

Something AlphaOmega said(hi girl if you are lurking) helped me when I was "coming to" in my first year of sobriety and feeling the pain of abuse full force was ; hurting people hurt. I never considered that my parents were victims in their own right. I survived along time believing they did the best they could. Well, that best SUCKED! They were somewhat one dimensional in my mind. More like cartoons stuck in time that never changed. That's not reality. If people never changed I'd still be a drunk.

Something that helped me deinternalize (is that a word) the pain was the Buddhist story of the empty boats.

If a man is crossing a river
And an empty boat collides with his own skiff,
Even though he be a bad-tempered man
He will not become very angry.
But if he sees a man in the boat,
He will shout to him to steer clear.
And if the shout is not heard he will shout
Again, and yet again, and begin cursing -
And all because there is somebody in that boat.
Yet if the boat were empty,
He would not be shouting, and he would not be angry.

They are all empty boats. Nothing personal, you just got caught up in someone else's shitstorm.

I've been meaning to ask you. What is your end game?

EndGameNYC

Hi silentrun.

Wise words.

Yeah, I miss alpha. Hope she's doing well. She's been through a lot, and has worked very hard to get to a better place in her life.

My end game is yet to be determined. In the meantime, I'd have to say that it's what I do every day.

Soberpotamus

Happy five years.

Thanks for sharing about your sponsor. I find dying and the prospect of time running out to be the best motivator.

EndGameNYC

Yes. One of the most heartbreaking films I've seen. And because of my education and training, I pretty much knew how things were going to go.

I remember once, when I was at the end of the line in my relapse, someone asked what it would take, what I would need, in order to get sober. I said, "I need it to be 1967." Sometimes things are just that way.

EndGameNYC

It's interesting to me that you say that. In a sense, and technically, we're all dying. Some people are able use it as a motivation to live life to the fullest, while others use it as an excuse to stand perfectly still.

I like to think that most endings are meant to be bittersweet.

Soberpotamus

Bittersweet, thats something I am going to remember.

Yes, why can't death and parting be bittersweet? Not all bitter.

hpdw

I could have wrote this almost word for word . I have seen this behaviour for years with 4 female extended family members , they all feed and feed off each others miserableness but whats interesting is that the men they attracted are not nice people either so its a whole circle of bitterness .

EndGameNYC

It's often the case that the sugar doesn't kick in until long after the dust has settled.

bexxed

This thread is incredible.

FarToGo

Yes, I've read some it twice over, you clever, philosophical lot.
Big thanks.
xx

MIRecovery

Unhappy people are always looking for ways to not look at themselves. It could be finding fault in others to build themselves up, whining about how life has treated them unfairly, creating chaos, anger, anything other than looking at the real problem which is themselves. I just try to keep my side of the street clean and treat all I meet with dignity and respect. If I perceive your actions to be toxic to my well being then I will do my best to remove your illness from my life

sweetichick

Great post. It described my ex perfectly.

Venecia

EndGame, congratulations on five years.

Thank you so much for being a thoughtful friend to our community.

Venecia

I thought of this song, and its bittersweet theme, after it was too late to go in and edit. But it is lovely and a nice tribute to one pillar (ours!) from the East Coast from another.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtiR3pJQgLQ

(BTW, I'm somewhere in the audience, but in the cheap seats not visible here.)

EndGameNYC

Why should the end of something be any different than what happens in the beginning and the "middle?"

Falling in love is a type of madness. We're convinced that this time is the last time, that we've found "the one" in our lives. There's often talk of "soul mates," finding our "other half," and, in comparison to previous relationships, "this time it will be different." The simplest explanation, to me, for this kind of verbalization for such a state of euphoria is that, on some level, we all know that things do not last. It's a defense against anticipated thoughts and feelings of loss, and of the eventual loss itself.

This process also occurs on the cellular level and, in the mind, on the unconscious level. It's in our DNA that we "know" that we are mortal, that the end is always nearer than we like to imagine. Attempts to keep everything the same, to avoid loss, to hold onto what we have, no matter how painful it often is to do so, and no matter how destructive "what we have" is to us, are, for me, manifestations of fending off death. We do it every day but cutting corners, finding faster ways to "get things done," or using extreme measures to avoid a sense of the temporary nature of life itself (like obliterating our consciousness), and all things that are a part of our lives. We don't like change because change implies the ending of something. The beginning of something altogether new and different can also be terrifying.

I've taken in animals, cats and dogs, all my life. After several losses, I began to grieve the reality that, in all likelihood, and if all goes well, they would all die before I did. It's an imposing thought that can provoke a brief but intense sense of dread each time I bring a new furry friend into my life. But it's never enough to stop me from doing it.

I don't believe that we can experience love without the loss of love. If we haven't lost important people or things in our lives, other than through death, then it would seem that we are missing something that makes life worth living.

Soberpotamus

Watching my oldest cat die, literally watching her die before my eyes, helped me more than anything to accept death, and to accept the deaths of my grandmother and mother (who both died years ago). Watching the cat look away, and push me (as well as food and water) away at the end ... taught me that it's ok to accept dying as part of living. She was ready to go. She didn't need me any longer. I was already beyond sadness at that point. I really needed to see her push me away. That cat helped me so much.

What you've said above is something I need to hear. I think being in a marriage where I'm waffling all the time over if it's the 'right' kind of marriage or whether I really wanted it (or didn't want it), and waffling over more education, and which direction to take for my small business ... it's sometimes easy to sit perfectly still, kind of paralyzed by the dread of change, and of failure. What if I put all this time into a business change that doesn't pay off? What if I stay in this marriage or what if I leave too soon? What if I never get the Masters degree, and what if it's wasted effort? And do I still want that anyway?

How do you know when the time is right to take the plunge? Is there a right time? I guess there are really only consequences.

least

I do the same thing. I always get another dog/cat when I lose one. It's one way of carrying on the kindness I gave my dog/cat when they were living.

Soberpotamus

I think, though it hurts so much when they die, we have the opportunity to make an animal happy, to give it a good life. And we should take that chance. I think that's real love, unselfish love (even though we receive much from them)... because we know it's going to be heartbreaking but we do it anyway, for them. I just feel that that are too many animals in this world that need a home, and that need help, and love.

EndGameNYC

Hi Jennie.

I was thinking that this might be a difficult topic for you, given your history with your mother.

I'm prone to rambling recently (recently?), so I'm giving fair warning. (The more esoteric among us would frame such a thing as "stream of consciousness." For me, it's just moving all over the map at my leisure.) And it's my thread -- which typically die of neglect, disinterest or natural causes after about four or five replies -- so I can do anything I want. Besides, I'm allowed to not know where I'm going until I get there. Which reminds me...You're all welcome to hijack any thread I start, without reason or cause. Just like a regular conversation. But not really.

I have, at times, an impulse to explain myself, to lay out in logical terms what it is that I'm getting at. But there's also a part of me that cherishes the process of other people finding in my words, in anyone's words, whatever it is they need to find, and only when they're ready to find it. And, for the most part, the latter is what I've experienced in this thread and, when things go well, also occurs when I'm working with someone in psychotherapy. So good for me. This not to say that my words are any more important than those of anyone else. After all, we see what we're drawn to see, no matter who the author is. The validity of our perceptions tend to take a back seat to what it is that we feel, what we believe. Truth is more like a clinical phenomenon, and, by itself, tells us nothing about the heart. No one ever experienced disappointment or heartbreak over the Pythagorean Theorem.

I also labor with placing conditions on what I say, like, "In my experience...," "In my mind...," "It's this way for me (and no one else)..." due to my concern around ruffling people's feathers. It's stifling, mechanical, and often feels artificial. The fact is, whether I say it or not, everything I write here is from my personal experience. And I'm extremely grateful that the path I'm on has taken me to several unusual and unexpected places of varying intensity.

It seems that the two greatest crimes we can commit at this point in human history is to hurt someone's feelings, without regard for whether or not we are doing such a thing intentionally and, in a close second, daring to generalize even basic, sometimes universal, human experiences to the extent that doing so offends ruthless individuality. In my mind/thinking/experience, how we react to these two "events" is a measure both of our comfort and of our conviction in being who we are, and of where we sit on the continuum of personal growth and maturity. Maybe it's only a better explanation that I'm lacking?

I don't think that sitting perfectly still is either a good thing or a bad thing. It only becomes a problem when we impose it on ourselves, or other people, as a way of life. In the event, it's still neither good nor bad, but carries with it the consequence of never having lived life in any meaningful way, and all that doing so implies.

Before I forget, I want to let Least know that I never brought in a new animal soon after the death of another. Grieving is very subjective, and I just could never bring myself to do that. I have complete compassion for people who bring in someone new on their own schedule. It's none of my business. All of us who love animals know the experience of sitting in a movie theatre and not caring that the entire city and it inhabitants were savagely and unmercifully killed, "as long as the dog didn't die." Their deaths strike at the very heart, at our most vulnerable parts, and can render us feeling helpless. And not just a little bit. But that very vulnerability is the source of the kind of strength that allows us to love them so completely in the first place, always taking the very real, and usually inevitable, risk of the loss of love. And, in this way, no one loses.

And Jennie, you roll a great big ball of yarn, a dilemma that is perhaps among the most central to human existence: "What do I do, and when do I do it? What happens if it's all wasted effort? What if I fail? What if I lose a job that only conspires with my misery to live an unhappy life to find the same thing in a new job? What if I make a change for the better, and I end up worse than when I started? How do I make up for lost time?" When I was in high school, I started reading Ann Landers and "Dear Abby." A young woman wrote to one of the other that she'd been dating someone for several years, and that he'd been putting of a long-term commitment for most of their relationship. And that this was driving her crazy. Her response was to take her boyfriend for a walk through a graveyard.

Something you and I have discussed here before: A friend once told me that he'd wished he'd gone on to get a PhD in clinical psychology. He was about forty at the time, and was no longer happy with being a social worker. The cost of further education was not a problem for him. I told him that, with his background and experience, and if he worked hard, he could expect at least six years on the low side, and at least about eight years when leaving room for unanticipated life events. He said, "No. That's too long. I might just as well stay where I am. I can't wait till I'm close to fifty to get my PhD." So I asked, "How old will you be in eight years if you don't go for the PhD?" He didn't go to school right away, but has since graduated and has a thriving practice in NYC. He's also a full professor in a major PhD program in the city.

We're Americans, so we tend to measure or value things based on outcomes. We also judge ourselves (and others), often harshly, by the outcomes of the things we do or are involved in. If I'm still depressed after six months, then therapy doesn't work, or my therapist couldn't help me or, and this happens, my therapist sucks or therapy sucks. (That's essentially what insurance companies who pay for such things want to happen.)

The other side of this is, "I'm hopeless!" "Nobody can help me." "I've tried everything, and nothing works." This is a narcissistic position that lends itself to self-victimization which, in reality, is a nullification of the self, a defense against the looming responsibilities of existence, and the sense of dread that meeting such challenges brings with it. That all sounds very grim, but everyone who knows it knows that there is also unbridled joy to be had when we take care of our own being, of who it is that we are becoming. When we risk living a meaningful life. Love and the loss of love are threads that run through our existence, with or without our participation, and with or without our consent. Ya gotta be in it to win it.

Anyway, when we pole vault over the processes involved in growth and change, we tend to miss out on a very scenic view that could also have helped us to move in a better direction in our lives. We end up where we started. Sitting and waiting, days, sometimes years, between stations. Life sometimes moves too quickly to live it well. Only we can slow it down.

I'm with the existentialist philosophers when it comes to existence. Life is absurd. This doesn't mean that life is silly or weird, outrageous or necessarily chaotic. But it could be. As human beings, consciously or not, we search for meaning in the nature of being human. But existence itself does not offer meaning, yet we continue to search for it. "What's the meaning of life?" This is the most absurd philosophical question you'll find. And if someone gives you an answer, check your wallet and head for the door. The only legitimate question, for me, is, "Why is there something instead of nothing?" What does that mean?

Well, what does existence mean? The difference between human beings and other animals is not religion or racism, Walmart or Burger King, but it might be the use of metaphor, or abstract thinking generally. I could also argue that consciousness among so-called "lower species" is all metaphor, without consciousness knowing that that's what it is. But I can't do that to myself or to anyone still reading at this moment.

Existence is like John Locke's description of consciousness, a tabula rosa, or a blank slate at birth. Our senses tell us everything we need to know about the world, and experience allows us to avoid making the same mistakes, over and over again. (Good luck with that.) Existence is like a fill-in-the-blank test without prior knowledge, and with little time to prepare. And not all the "answers" are right or wrong. An empty canvas, waiting to be colored, or never colored at all. Paint-by-numbers is probably fulfilling, even fun, in the literal way its done, but not so much as a way of living a good life. Life isn't a crossword puzzle or a problem to solve (though many choose to reduce it as such); it's something, the only thing, to be lived. As I get older, I recognize that while I was busy searching for some sort of purpose and meaning in my life (aka avoiding living life), it was really the other way around. My purpose was always there, waiting for me to see it, despite tripping over it, sometimes stomping on it, throughout my life. And it isn't just one thing. I can't even give it a name. It has nothing to do with Divine Intervention, and is not something that's only privy to a few, chosen people. It's there for each person to see in his or her life, and I have not idea what it is for anyone else. It's more like a way of life than a thing. And I believe that, when people get there, they ask themselves with impatience, "Why didn't I see it all along?" Why, indeed.

We're good at ignoring things, especially things we don't like or that inspire fear or any unwanted feeling. That's what denial is. It isn't about not seeing the problem; it's about holding onto it. "I don't like it, it's too much trouble to change it, and God help you if you try to take it away from me." So, for the benefit of staying perfectly still, and not risking something better, I make believe it isn't there, and I spend a great deal of time and effort convincing other people the same thing.

I'm not talking religion here..just sayin'. According to the Book of Genesis ("That book is sooooooooo old, SO Before Christ..."), the first thing that Adam and Eve did when they were cast out from Paradise was to cover themselves, cover their external genitalia. God punished them with consciousness of themselves. To be aware of their being was the price they paid for settling for a life without pain, without suffering, and, if I'm remembering correctly, without end. (Even if I'm not correct, I like the eternal life twist better.)

We've lived this legacy for centuries. We scramble to avoid pain and suffering, to outlive our mortality, to be free of consciousness and, more pointedly, to be free of self-consciousness (think alcohol and drugs and any other obsession powerful enough to distract us from just being). I believe that there are levels of consciousness that we dare not approach, and that there are various manifestations of this obsessional avoidance. Freedom and consciousness are among our most powerful assets. Why is that we go as far as nearly destroying ourselves to avoid them? And why are so many of us so threatened when we see other people use these assets to their benefit? Or, conversely, why do we take great pains to restrict the freedom and consciousness of other people, particularly those we claim to love?

The inability or refusal to be honest with ourselves. The inability or refusal to see people for who and what they are. And, of course, the most obvious defense against reality due to its violence, the impulse or drive to destroy (literally and figuratively) that which is different, novel or unknown. No wonder we don't like change. Adam and Eve knew they were different, were separate from each other, only after they were punished. And thus was born the first unhappy marriage. I can't imagine that they somehow avoided blaming each other for what happened to them. Can you? Like most unhappy couples, they were probably most enraged that each of them could not control the other. Having just written that, it occurs to me that this has been my experience in couples therapy, though it's typically just one of the two who is obsessed with controlling the other, and though none of us is free of the non-pathological desire that our partners be a certain way from time to time.

The End



Or is it?

One more thing...

I forget who it is, though I remember it's someone whose comments I like, who uses one of my favorite quotes from Albert Camus in his signature, that is also essentially the abridged version of my lengthy post: "Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is."

EndGameNYC

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