I’ve been happier than my norm of late, and I can blame the drugs if I choose, but the condition has made me write, blog and share more. These are some of the things I actually typed to people when I felt cheerful, not high… but was probably high.
The setup. Second life. Found the contact in my wallet of a really cute readhead and her profile and pic were friendly and nice. I scanned her favourite places and the groups she interacts with and none matched my own, so I had no real memory of where we may have met. Usually in that alternate Universe my friends list contains people I’ve either played Cards Against Humanity with, or shared drugs with.
I said Hello, commented on a group in her list and asked about role playing real fictional characters. This is something I want to do in SL but only with a play partner.
Our message exchange was positive and we agreed we might very well be a good pairing in that Universe at least to play, but at the minimum, keep each other company for a bit.
Ding. The bell goes off. I have successfully made another connectipn which could be the start of a new chapter and addition onto my universe. A new potential mate.
Then, just as quickly, the second voce inside me that hates this new stress starts. Ahhhh! New human in front of me. That means I have to turn on the machine that is Jeff and start paying attention again. I have to live. I have to try. Ugh. I catch myself thinking; why? I’ll screw it up somehow…
Then I have that lightbulb moment. I screw it up on purpose because living depressed is my new NOW. Contentment with the story of the guy who can’t make it work.
Being the guy that can’t make it work is me. I just hadn’t realiuzed I am cauing the fail because not working is the outcome that doesn’t cause me to stress and fill my stomach with butterflies. I take the pride point, and make her hate me… or run away. I am just now seeing the B roll of all the ways I’ve done this previously. It scrolls through my head as if the news room segment producer was bringing it on on the monitor.
I have a few preset reasons I’ll fail so I don’t try. I am 54 and hang out with 27 – 44 year olds so when I can’t get a date I can use that as a reason I wasn’t rejected for me… but the real reason is. It’s just the easy route to NOT be a success.
It was a huge moment in my life the day I realized I would literally hate the success of every one of my dreams. Actually accomplishing ANY goal I have been searching for will mean the START of effort, stress and work. NOT the end of missery.
I have not fully come to terms with that yet. Any change to create a sustainable universe for me will actually be a new constant effort and a life with descions. NOT doing that however might mean a life of asking for change on the street.
I returned from me revelation shower and replied this to my new potential friend:
Ok… I have to get over an issue that I sometimes get terrified momentarily when it appears I might actually have to deal with the realities of getting exactly what I was asking for, and that means I actually have to care and try my best not to sabotage it simply so I can go back to sleep on the couch complaining about how nothing ever works out the way I want. (big grin) That is only half true and half a comedic realization of my life at this very minute. Self doubt should never be the tool you use as an excuse to fail.
Hmmm… this might be #blogworthy
At that point, I started writing this, and in a fascinating twist of reality, I blogged about how I sometimes run away from new friends the moment they actually say yes, and 20 minutes pass before I realize I used this blog about that, to do exactly that. While writing, I abandonned a conversation practically in the middle.
i’ll work on that.
