Every now and then someone will mention that I should or should have gone to med school. I usually laugh maniacally at these sorts of statements. Me, as a doctor? I'm not sure the world would be able to support the smug/arrogant singularity that would be created if I were to ever obtain a medical doctorate.
First off, I already think I'm smarter than everyone (because I am), having a the letters "MD" attached to my name would only make things ten times worse. What about bedside manner? Well, all I could say is that I would be a cross of the worst characteristics of Dr. House from the show "House" and Dr. Cox from "Scrubs". No one wants to be a patient of a smug, asshole doctor who's right all of the time. Worse than that, no one wants to work for a smug, asshole doctor who's right all of the time. I work in the basement of our hospital as a mere clinical laboratory scientist and already I'm afraid to go to any other public places of the hospital for fear of being recognized as "that asshole from the lab". If people were indeed able to put my face to the voice they hear on the phone, I'm sure I would be stabbed, shivved, shanked, perforated numerous times via scalpel, or choked to death with a stethoscope. As a practicing physician, this would be far, far worse and I calculate my odds of being assassinated by the staff I work with would be about 98%.
In all seriousness, the idea of going to medical school has never appealed to me. I enjoy working in laboratory medicine very much and doubt I will ever stray very far from it. To be honest, the only type of doctoral medicine I would be interested in is pathology and I would almost certainly specialize in hematology, infectious disease, or epidemiology. I can specialize in those areas in my current professional career if I wanted to anyway. Though it is very flattering to have people suggest that I should have gone to medical school, it would require a focus, commitment, and drive that I don't think I've ever possessed. Truthfully, what I do in laboratory medicine requires a very in depth knowledge of broad categories of medicine already. In fact, the medical director of our lab has said to me numerous times that she thinks the most intelligent people you can find in a hospital setting are usually laboratorians and I agree with this statement, though not out of arrogance or hubris. My peers and colleagues are bar none some of the most intelligent and dedicated people I have ever met in my life. We perform detailed, sophisticated, and precise laboratory medicine every single day. Without us, physicians would be blind as to how to treat their patients. I am perfectly happy and proud to perform such essential functions behind the scenes, even though no one other than ourselves understands or realizes the enormity of the contributions we make every single day.
Besides, we ALL know just how big of an asshole physician I would be. Maybe if I could find an "Evil" medical school to attend, I might actually think about it. I'm going to keep the danger of a smug/arrogant singularity that would consume the world in the closet.....for now at least.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Monday, May 26, 2014
Carly Ann Nelson 10-03-1975 to 05-26-2009
There are few things that I wish more than to be able to go back in time to May of 2009. Carly, my sister and only sibling, took her own life on this very day five years ago. I wouldn't go back in time to try to stop her because I know she only wanted to end her pain and struggles and to be honest, 25I probably would not be able to affect the outcome. Truth be told, I respect her decision and understand that it took a great deal of courage to do what she did. I would go back just to let her know that her brother loves her and that I would always love her, no matter what happened.
Carly had Borderline Personality Disorder and was an endstage alcoholic by the time she entered her early 30's (most likely due to her personality disorder). At least that is what the current theory is (one I subscribe to). Mental illnesses have an infuriating habit of being nebulous and undefinable so during the 17 years of Carly's struggles, we never really had an asnwer as to what the nature of her disease really was. Carly wasn't born with her disorder (as I wasn't either), but a genetic predisoposition to mental illness and addiction, along with a very troubled upbringing resulted in Carly becoming a very ill and unhappy person. I'm not going to delve into the specifics that made her they way she was because it was a very gradual and long term process......not to mention, I can't remember much of our childhood. I will say this, we both played roles in each other's diseases, albeit small ones, I don't hold this against Carly and I hope she would feel the same way about me.
When Carly was 16 she made her first attempt at suicide via overdose. During emergency attempts to pump Carly's stomach, some contents were aspirated into her lungs and she went into respiratory failure. Carly's situation was dire enough that she was flown to the University of Minnesota hospital in Minneapolis. She eventually made a recovery after a number of months. She would wear the prominent tracheostomy scar from her tracheotomy for the rest of her life unfortunately. During Carly's recovery in the hospital, placing her in a long term pediatric mental health facility was recommended (which I supported). Carly was adamant about returning home to Helena for her senior year of school and was able to convince my parents to let her do so. Now this is not an indictment of any of the decisions that were made regarding Carly's wellbeing, I am merely pointing out that it was clear she was very ill from a mental standpoint early on.
Carly went home for her senior year and began drinking socially at that point. This began a seventeen year long battle with alcohol addiction for her, one that she was never able to beat for more than a few months at a time. My father and mother did their best to help Carly get well and she spent time at numerous rehabilitation programs and high level mental health facilities. Nothing ever seemed to work and Carly fell further and further into despair as time went by.
I was too busy making my way through college, finding my place in the world, and slowly coming to the realization that Carly wasn't the only one who was very mentally ill to really have a whole lot of contact with my sister. I was a much different person back then than I am today. I harbored a great deal of resentment toward Carly regarding our childhood, all the time and resources my parents devoted to her, and her inability to stay sober or out of trouble for more than a few months at a time. In short, I had little compassion for my sister's plight. By the time I had entered my career in the early 2000's it became clear to me that Carly most likely was going to succeed in a suicide attempt in the future at some point and I did my best to make that known to my parents.
I can only imagine what it was like for Carly to struggle all of those years while she watched all of her friends and her brother move on with their adult lives while she remained trapped within the prison of her illness and alcoholism. Shame is a subject that I am extremely well versed in and I feel very sad for how she must have felt. Carly kept trying her hardest to make things work, but the cards were stacked against her by the time the mid 2000's arrived. Her drinking binges became so severe that she had to be hospitlized for detoxification each time and she had more than bout with acute pancreatitis, which became a chronic ailment for her in the last years of her life. Worse yet, the increasing intensity of each incident placed a great deal of strain upon her relationship with my parents and myself.
Carly became more severely depressed, ashamed of herself, alone, and miserable by 2008.....which was not the best of years for me either. I had been in Hawaii for 18 months at that point and the slow, downward spiral I was in began to accelerate rapidly enough to the point I became suicidal myself. It was clear that I needed to move home to the mainland, which was no small task at the time. Carly offered to come visit me during those last few weeks on the island to make sure that I was going to be safe and okay. While she didn't really help much with my moving activities, it was nice to have her there with me, even if we did have a squabble or two. I think this was the first real vacation Carly had been on for many years and I think she genuinely enjoyed herself, which is something that gives me great comfort now.
By the time 2009 arrived, things had been steadily getting worse for Carly and her incidents (meaning her drinking binges, for lack of a better term) became more and more severe. She even went so far as to get married in secret to a man she was in a rehab facility with while no one was looking one day. Dad came out to Montana to try to fix this mess and it was at this point that I told him that I thought we were looking at the end times for Carly. Then, one fateful afternoon, Carly appeared in the ER here at Community Medical Center while I was on shift. I believe her pancreatitis was bothering her so mom brought her here to see if they could do something for her pain. In hindsight, I wonder if Carly came to this hospital, the very hospital she was born in, to say goodbye to me. Sadly, at this point I was more than fed up with her "antics" and was only filled with anger and resentment. Though I was downstairs in the lab when she was in our ER, I did not go up to see her because I knew if I did, I was going to release over 15 years worth of resentment upon her. Though it meant that I didn't get the chance to see her days before she took her own life, I am thankful every day that I didn't go up to see her and unleash my fury upon her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself in the aftermath. Knowing there was nothing they could do to help Carly, she was released from the ER and mom took her home to Helena. Whether unwittingly or by choice, Carly had come full circle in her life with that visit to this hospital. Two days later she took a fatal dose of painkillers, left a note, and fell unconcious in her room at mom's condo. Alone. She died several hours later in a hospital in Great Falls and I got the call sometime around 5:00 that morning.
The next week was a huge blur, though I had predicted her suicide many years prior, I was still rocked to my very core. Preparations for her funeral in Helena were made for the next week and I made the decision to speak at the service. Speaking at her service has easily been one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life and I still can't talk about it without bursting into tears. I have never been one to prepare speeches when called upon to speak in front of people, I've always just been able to convey what I wanted to without the need for notes. There must have been 200 and 300 people there in attendance and I was being called to the podium far too soon for my liking. I stood there and sobbed for 5 minutes before I could speak anything intelligible. It was so hard, but I had to do it. I had to try to convey what a beautiful person my sister was and despite all of the resentment I had held against her, I loved her very much. Just writing about the event has brought me to tears again.
Carly's tale may only seem to be about misery and sorrow, but that wasn't the essence of who she was. Carly was an extremely intelligent, charming, and witty person. She was always very kind and she loved animals (very much like her brother loves his Dingoes). She was so brilliantly smart and so witty though. She remains the only person in the world who actually grasped the complexity of my sense of humor, mostly because it was very similar to my own. She was such a beautiful person, so many people told how Carly had touched their lives at her memorial service. So much so that it became too overwhelming for me and I had to hide in the recesses of the church until the reception was over and everyone who wasn't going to the grave side service left. She loved music so much, even more so than I do. She read a lot of books and was reading Hunter S. Thompson way before I ever considered doing so. In high school it appeared to everyone that she was destined to go on to great things in adulthood, something that must have weighed heavily upon her heart in the later years of her life.
Carly's suicide five years ago today has become the most influential and transformative event of my entire life. Before her death I was always so cold and clinical all of the time, I wasn't capable of near the compassion that I am now. I've spent a great deal of time trying my best to make sense of it all and gain a greater understanding of who she was. I've seen what it's like to live too long without hope and what that does to a person both on the inside and outside. I try my best to learn as much as I can from her experiences so her death won't be in vain. I understand why she did it, why she took her own life now. Odds are that I will follow in her path some time in the future because I understand that sometimes people just aren't equipped to live in the world and that the brightest lights burn the shortest (not that my light is necessarily very bright). I've see loss from a unique perspective now and it has made me a far more compassionate person. I've spent time at a facility with other people with mental health and substance abuse issues, I understand her far better now that I ever did when she was still alive. It's extremely sad, but it has to count for something. I wouldn't have been able to be there for mom in the final month of her life if it weren't for things that I had learned from Carly's death. I realize that she was the only other person who knew what we went through as children and was maybe the only person who could have helped me make any sense of it. In the back of my mind, I always thought we would be close later in life and that we would both help each other find the answers to what we were looking for. I love and appreciate Carly far more now than I ever did when she was alive and that fills me with such great sorrow. It bothers me so much that she essentially died alone and that she didn't know if her own brother loved her or not. Earlier this month, I got tattoos of our favorite X-Men character on my forearms to represent the two of us. One of the character as a hero (in memory of her) and one of the character after she had succumb to the darkness of her soul (to represent me). I put them on my forearms so I would see them and be reminded daily of her.
So I would go back if I could, not to stop her because I wouldn't want her to suffer any longer in life than she already had, I would go back to tell her how much I love her and how we aren't as different as we always thought we were. I would show her how much I've learned and changed because of her death. Most importantly, I would make sure that she wasn't alone when she passed. No one should die alone and in misery like that. Interestingly, one of the greatest compliments that anyone has ever given was from Carly. When Jack and I crash landed back on the mainland I had very hard time finding a place for him and I to live at here in Missoula, so Jack spent a couple of weeks with mom and Carly in Helena. I came over to Helena one weekend to see him, because I can't stand to be away from him (or Carter, but he wasn't with us then) and really needed some comfort from him at the time. We were rough housing on mom's couch when Carly came down the stairs and said, "You really love your dog." I don't know how long she had been watching us, but I think at that moment she saw the essence of who I am and just how much love I am capable of. It may not seem like a very important thing, but it has come to mean so much to me over the years. It's important to me that she could see just how soft and gentle I can be. Jack bonded with Carly while he spent time with him and mom, sleeping snuggled up against her under the covers like he has with me since he was a puppy. He was there with us at her grave side service as well.
I miss my sister every day and I will miss her every day until the day I die. I will always remember her for the beautiful person she really was. I will always be sad that I wasn't able to show her love while she was alive and for the loss of any possible future we could have had together. I spend a great deal of time trying to learn from her suicide and take meaning from it. I hope it would make her smile in knowing that her suicide helped her brother to change as much as he has and that there will always be a place in his heart dedicated to her. I love you, Carly. I always will and I'm sorry.
Carly had Borderline Personality Disorder and was an endstage alcoholic by the time she entered her early 30's (most likely due to her personality disorder). At least that is what the current theory is (one I subscribe to). Mental illnesses have an infuriating habit of being nebulous and undefinable so during the 17 years of Carly's struggles, we never really had an asnwer as to what the nature of her disease really was. Carly wasn't born with her disorder (as I wasn't either), but a genetic predisoposition to mental illness and addiction, along with a very troubled upbringing resulted in Carly becoming a very ill and unhappy person. I'm not going to delve into the specifics that made her they way she was because it was a very gradual and long term process......not to mention, I can't remember much of our childhood. I will say this, we both played roles in each other's diseases, albeit small ones, I don't hold this against Carly and I hope she would feel the same way about me.
When Carly was 16 she made her first attempt at suicide via overdose. During emergency attempts to pump Carly's stomach, some contents were aspirated into her lungs and she went into respiratory failure. Carly's situation was dire enough that she was flown to the University of Minnesota hospital in Minneapolis. She eventually made a recovery after a number of months. She would wear the prominent tracheostomy scar from her tracheotomy for the rest of her life unfortunately. During Carly's recovery in the hospital, placing her in a long term pediatric mental health facility was recommended (which I supported). Carly was adamant about returning home to Helena for her senior year of school and was able to convince my parents to let her do so. Now this is not an indictment of any of the decisions that were made regarding Carly's wellbeing, I am merely pointing out that it was clear she was very ill from a mental standpoint early on.
Carly went home for her senior year and began drinking socially at that point. This began a seventeen year long battle with alcohol addiction for her, one that she was never able to beat for more than a few months at a time. My father and mother did their best to help Carly get well and she spent time at numerous rehabilitation programs and high level mental health facilities. Nothing ever seemed to work and Carly fell further and further into despair as time went by.
I was too busy making my way through college, finding my place in the world, and slowly coming to the realization that Carly wasn't the only one who was very mentally ill to really have a whole lot of contact with my sister. I was a much different person back then than I am today. I harbored a great deal of resentment toward Carly regarding our childhood, all the time and resources my parents devoted to her, and her inability to stay sober or out of trouble for more than a few months at a time. In short, I had little compassion for my sister's plight. By the time I had entered my career in the early 2000's it became clear to me that Carly most likely was going to succeed in a suicide attempt in the future at some point and I did my best to make that known to my parents.
I can only imagine what it was like for Carly to struggle all of those years while she watched all of her friends and her brother move on with their adult lives while she remained trapped within the prison of her illness and alcoholism. Shame is a subject that I am extremely well versed in and I feel very sad for how she must have felt. Carly kept trying her hardest to make things work, but the cards were stacked against her by the time the mid 2000's arrived. Her drinking binges became so severe that she had to be hospitlized for detoxification each time and she had more than bout with acute pancreatitis, which became a chronic ailment for her in the last years of her life. Worse yet, the increasing intensity of each incident placed a great deal of strain upon her relationship with my parents and myself.
Carly became more severely depressed, ashamed of herself, alone, and miserable by 2008.....which was not the best of years for me either. I had been in Hawaii for 18 months at that point and the slow, downward spiral I was in began to accelerate rapidly enough to the point I became suicidal myself. It was clear that I needed to move home to the mainland, which was no small task at the time. Carly offered to come visit me during those last few weeks on the island to make sure that I was going to be safe and okay. While she didn't really help much with my moving activities, it was nice to have her there with me, even if we did have a squabble or two. I think this was the first real vacation Carly had been on for many years and I think she genuinely enjoyed herself, which is something that gives me great comfort now.
By the time 2009 arrived, things had been steadily getting worse for Carly and her incidents (meaning her drinking binges, for lack of a better term) became more and more severe. She even went so far as to get married in secret to a man she was in a rehab facility with while no one was looking one day. Dad came out to Montana to try to fix this mess and it was at this point that I told him that I thought we were looking at the end times for Carly. Then, one fateful afternoon, Carly appeared in the ER here at Community Medical Center while I was on shift. I believe her pancreatitis was bothering her so mom brought her here to see if they could do something for her pain. In hindsight, I wonder if Carly came to this hospital, the very hospital she was born in, to say goodbye to me. Sadly, at this point I was more than fed up with her "antics" and was only filled with anger and resentment. Though I was downstairs in the lab when she was in our ER, I did not go up to see her because I knew if I did, I was going to release over 15 years worth of resentment upon her. Though it meant that I didn't get the chance to see her days before she took her own life, I am thankful every day that I didn't go up to see her and unleash my fury upon her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself in the aftermath. Knowing there was nothing they could do to help Carly, she was released from the ER and mom took her home to Helena. Whether unwittingly or by choice, Carly had come full circle in her life with that visit to this hospital. Two days later she took a fatal dose of painkillers, left a note, and fell unconcious in her room at mom's condo. Alone. She died several hours later in a hospital in Great Falls and I got the call sometime around 5:00 that morning.
The next week was a huge blur, though I had predicted her suicide many years prior, I was still rocked to my very core. Preparations for her funeral in Helena were made for the next week and I made the decision to speak at the service. Speaking at her service has easily been one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life and I still can't talk about it without bursting into tears. I have never been one to prepare speeches when called upon to speak in front of people, I've always just been able to convey what I wanted to without the need for notes. There must have been 200 and 300 people there in attendance and I was being called to the podium far too soon for my liking. I stood there and sobbed for 5 minutes before I could speak anything intelligible. It was so hard, but I had to do it. I had to try to convey what a beautiful person my sister was and despite all of the resentment I had held against her, I loved her very much. Just writing about the event has brought me to tears again.
Carly's tale may only seem to be about misery and sorrow, but that wasn't the essence of who she was. Carly was an extremely intelligent, charming, and witty person. She was always very kind and she loved animals (very much like her brother loves his Dingoes). She was so brilliantly smart and so witty though. She remains the only person in the world who actually grasped the complexity of my sense of humor, mostly because it was very similar to my own. She was such a beautiful person, so many people told how Carly had touched their lives at her memorial service. So much so that it became too overwhelming for me and I had to hide in the recesses of the church until the reception was over and everyone who wasn't going to the grave side service left. She loved music so much, even more so than I do. She read a lot of books and was reading Hunter S. Thompson way before I ever considered doing so. In high school it appeared to everyone that she was destined to go on to great things in adulthood, something that must have weighed heavily upon her heart in the later years of her life.
Carly's suicide five years ago today has become the most influential and transformative event of my entire life. Before her death I was always so cold and clinical all of the time, I wasn't capable of near the compassion that I am now. I've spent a great deal of time trying my best to make sense of it all and gain a greater understanding of who she was. I've seen what it's like to live too long without hope and what that does to a person both on the inside and outside. I try my best to learn as much as I can from her experiences so her death won't be in vain. I understand why she did it, why she took her own life now. Odds are that I will follow in her path some time in the future because I understand that sometimes people just aren't equipped to live in the world and that the brightest lights burn the shortest (not that my light is necessarily very bright). I've see loss from a unique perspective now and it has made me a far more compassionate person. I've spent time at a facility with other people with mental health and substance abuse issues, I understand her far better now that I ever did when she was still alive. It's extremely sad, but it has to count for something. I wouldn't have been able to be there for mom in the final month of her life if it weren't for things that I had learned from Carly's death. I realize that she was the only other person who knew what we went through as children and was maybe the only person who could have helped me make any sense of it. In the back of my mind, I always thought we would be close later in life and that we would both help each other find the answers to what we were looking for. I love and appreciate Carly far more now than I ever did when she was alive and that fills me with such great sorrow. It bothers me so much that she essentially died alone and that she didn't know if her own brother loved her or not. Earlier this month, I got tattoos of our favorite X-Men character on my forearms to represent the two of us. One of the character as a hero (in memory of her) and one of the character after she had succumb to the darkness of her soul (to represent me). I put them on my forearms so I would see them and be reminded daily of her.
So I would go back if I could, not to stop her because I wouldn't want her to suffer any longer in life than she already had, I would go back to tell her how much I love her and how we aren't as different as we always thought we were. I would show her how much I've learned and changed because of her death. Most importantly, I would make sure that she wasn't alone when she passed. No one should die alone and in misery like that. Interestingly, one of the greatest compliments that anyone has ever given was from Carly. When Jack and I crash landed back on the mainland I had very hard time finding a place for him and I to live at here in Missoula, so Jack spent a couple of weeks with mom and Carly in Helena. I came over to Helena one weekend to see him, because I can't stand to be away from him (or Carter, but he wasn't with us then) and really needed some comfort from him at the time. We were rough housing on mom's couch when Carly came down the stairs and said, "You really love your dog." I don't know how long she had been watching us, but I think at that moment she saw the essence of who I am and just how much love I am capable of. It may not seem like a very important thing, but it has come to mean so much to me over the years. It's important to me that she could see just how soft and gentle I can be. Jack bonded with Carly while he spent time with him and mom, sleeping snuggled up against her under the covers like he has with me since he was a puppy. He was there with us at her grave side service as well.
I miss my sister every day and I will miss her every day until the day I die. I will always remember her for the beautiful person she really was. I will always be sad that I wasn't able to show her love while she was alive and for the loss of any possible future we could have had together. I spend a great deal of time trying to learn from her suicide and take meaning from it. I hope it would make her smile in knowing that her suicide helped her brother to change as much as he has and that there will always be a place in his heart dedicated to her. I love you, Carly. I always will and I'm sorry.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Smart Fella or Fart Smella?
One of the more random ponderings that came across my mind as of recent had to do with my self perception regarding my intellect. Somewhere about half way through my especially long college career (I never failed a single class, I just couldn't decide on a subject to major in) I came to the conclusion that I am smarter than the average people around me.
Disclaimer: This post is not meant to come off as superior, smug, or arrogant (for once).
This wasn't one of those gradual sort of realizations either, it was jaw dropping, "Holy shit, I'm actually smart!", moments similar to a large insect colliding with the windshield of a speeding vehicle. I actually believe that this was one of the first moments of self awareness/realization for me. Being treated as something less than human for the majority of my childhood and teenage years instilled a very strong program into my brain, that program being that I'm worthless and that I should always believe that everyone I meet is better and more important than I am. As a result of all of this, I was never encouraged to really explore any idea that I might have an aptitude for anything. I wandered through life in that sort of fog, never questioning things and never looking beyond the experiences that I had. Waking up in your mid-20's to realize that everything that you had ever been told may be completely wrong was very unsettling for me. It was almost like I was born into a new world, but that world was almost incomprehensible to me. Looking back on my childhood, the signs were there, but Carly was always treated like she was the best at everything and to this day, I still can't get any member of my family to treat me like I'm an intelligent human being.
Though my aptitude is very high (at least I think it is), my emotional maturity is very stunted. Stunted in that I try my best not to experience feelings as much as possible (that is a tale for another time). I suddenly find myself doubting whether I'm near as smart as I think I am though. Growing up, asking questions usually elicited negative feedback for me so I became very adept at figuring things out of my own accord. To this day one of the most difficult things for me to do is to ask questions or ask for help, I will only do so if I have exhausted every resource at my disposal in pursuit of the answer to my queries. As a result, I have better than average problem solving abilities and know how to use knowledge based resources at my disposal. I honestly prefer to figure things out on my own, rather than ask for help.
One thing about grade school and high school was that I never gave a shit about my grades at all. Carly always got excellent grades, something her and mom were more than happy to compare me to on a regular basis. I never really saw the point to it though. Why should I have even cared? I never studied because I didn't have to and I didn't really see the point to that either. I always assumed that good grades were beyond my reach so it was a waste of time to even try. I carried this idea into the early years of college, I just never applied myself. Once I got into more interesting science courses, I found I had an active interest and natural ability in the subject matter. I still never applied myself properly to the course work though. All of that changed when I hit Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy. I actually failed the first practial in the class, something that had NEVER happened before. I was absolutely shocked, which I shouldn't have been because the professor said it was the academic equivalent to the "Bataan Death March". I finally applied myself to the course and wound up with a respectable "B" in the course. In retrospect, anatomy and physiology have always been easy subjects for me because I took comparative vert. The only other course that I have ever taken that required I apply myself that much was Embryology, a subject which I still hate to this day. Importantly, I finally learned that I actually was capable to getting good grades, with just a bit more effort than I had exhibited in the past.
By the time I finally figured out what I wanted to do with myself, I had already graduated with a degree in Biology, but I needed a degree in microbiology/clinical laboratory science, which required me to go back to school for another two years, plus a one year clinical internship on top of all that. By then I knew exactly what methods worked the best for me to comprehend subject material, so I managed to fly through my second degree getting good grades with minimal effort. I'm not saying I got the highest grades all of the time, I still didn't see the point in that, but I always managed to get an "A" in the majority of my courses. One of my peers that I went to school with will be happy to tell you about how much better she did on an immunology practical than I did because I was too busy playing video games the night before to study. I also made it through my clinical internship with far less effort and stress than my fellow students did, they were all too busy competing with each other for the highest grades when I knew it was all just to prime us for our board exams at the end of the year. My cavalier attitude toward the tests and course work garnered a lot of scorn from my fellow students, but to be honest, I didn't like any of them in the first place.
Anyway, I think I'm really smart and I will be more than happy to tell you that if you ask me. Is this really the case or is it pure hubris on my part? I've always prided myself on the fact that I much prefer to think for myself and come to my own conclusions, instead of having them forced down my throat. I'm not going to lie though, I'm very good at being a Clinical Laboratory Scientist and I would hope some of my former coworkers would agree with that opinion. I'm good at what I do because I apply myself to it every day and am genuinely interested in finding answers to every oddity that I come across. I never stop learning and I don't ever want to. I like to think of myself as a very critical and dynamic thinker, one who can look at the big picture without tripping on the details AND finding the tiny details when the situation warrants it. I don't know, maybe it really is all arrogant hubris on my part. So, am I a "Smart Fella" or a "Fart Smella"? You decide. I'll be over here being smug, overconfident, and arrogant.
Disclaimer: This post is not meant to come off as superior, smug, or arrogant (for once).
This wasn't one of those gradual sort of realizations either, it was jaw dropping, "Holy shit, I'm actually smart!", moments similar to a large insect colliding with the windshield of a speeding vehicle. I actually believe that this was one of the first moments of self awareness/realization for me. Being treated as something less than human for the majority of my childhood and teenage years instilled a very strong program into my brain, that program being that I'm worthless and that I should always believe that everyone I meet is better and more important than I am. As a result of all of this, I was never encouraged to really explore any idea that I might have an aptitude for anything. I wandered through life in that sort of fog, never questioning things and never looking beyond the experiences that I had. Waking up in your mid-20's to realize that everything that you had ever been told may be completely wrong was very unsettling for me. It was almost like I was born into a new world, but that world was almost incomprehensible to me. Looking back on my childhood, the signs were there, but Carly was always treated like she was the best at everything and to this day, I still can't get any member of my family to treat me like I'm an intelligent human being.
Though my aptitude is very high (at least I think it is), my emotional maturity is very stunted. Stunted in that I try my best not to experience feelings as much as possible (that is a tale for another time). I suddenly find myself doubting whether I'm near as smart as I think I am though. Growing up, asking questions usually elicited negative feedback for me so I became very adept at figuring things out of my own accord. To this day one of the most difficult things for me to do is to ask questions or ask for help, I will only do so if I have exhausted every resource at my disposal in pursuit of the answer to my queries. As a result, I have better than average problem solving abilities and know how to use knowledge based resources at my disposal. I honestly prefer to figure things out on my own, rather than ask for help.
One thing about grade school and high school was that I never gave a shit about my grades at all. Carly always got excellent grades, something her and mom were more than happy to compare me to on a regular basis. I never really saw the point to it though. Why should I have even cared? I never studied because I didn't have to and I didn't really see the point to that either. I always assumed that good grades were beyond my reach so it was a waste of time to even try. I carried this idea into the early years of college, I just never applied myself. Once I got into more interesting science courses, I found I had an active interest and natural ability in the subject matter. I still never applied myself properly to the course work though. All of that changed when I hit Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy. I actually failed the first practial in the class, something that had NEVER happened before. I was absolutely shocked, which I shouldn't have been because the professor said it was the academic equivalent to the "Bataan Death March". I finally applied myself to the course and wound up with a respectable "B" in the course. In retrospect, anatomy and physiology have always been easy subjects for me because I took comparative vert. The only other course that I have ever taken that required I apply myself that much was Embryology, a subject which I still hate to this day. Importantly, I finally learned that I actually was capable to getting good grades, with just a bit more effort than I had exhibited in the past.
By the time I finally figured out what I wanted to do with myself, I had already graduated with a degree in Biology, but I needed a degree in microbiology/clinical laboratory science, which required me to go back to school for another two years, plus a one year clinical internship on top of all that. By then I knew exactly what methods worked the best for me to comprehend subject material, so I managed to fly through my second degree getting good grades with minimal effort. I'm not saying I got the highest grades all of the time, I still didn't see the point in that, but I always managed to get an "A" in the majority of my courses. One of my peers that I went to school with will be happy to tell you about how much better she did on an immunology practical than I did because I was too busy playing video games the night before to study. I also made it through my clinical internship with far less effort and stress than my fellow students did, they were all too busy competing with each other for the highest grades when I knew it was all just to prime us for our board exams at the end of the year. My cavalier attitude toward the tests and course work garnered a lot of scorn from my fellow students, but to be honest, I didn't like any of them in the first place.
Anyway, I think I'm really smart and I will be more than happy to tell you that if you ask me. Is this really the case or is it pure hubris on my part? I've always prided myself on the fact that I much prefer to think for myself and come to my own conclusions, instead of having them forced down my throat. I'm not going to lie though, I'm very good at being a Clinical Laboratory Scientist and I would hope some of my former coworkers would agree with that opinion. I'm good at what I do because I apply myself to it every day and am genuinely interested in finding answers to every oddity that I come across. I never stop learning and I don't ever want to. I like to think of myself as a very critical and dynamic thinker, one who can look at the big picture without tripping on the details AND finding the tiny details when the situation warrants it. I don't know, maybe it really is all arrogant hubris on my part. So, am I a "Smart Fella" or a "Fart Smella"? You decide. I'll be over here being smug, overconfident, and arrogant.
Some people should never drink alcohol.
Every time when I see drunk people or people depicted as being drunk, I shudder and cringe in fright on the inside. It should be clarified that I pretty much gave up alcohol consumption altogether at about this time three years. There are several reason for this decision, starting with the fact that there is a very prominent history of substance abuse in my family, my sister in particular. Another reason is that alcohol is a depressant and anyone who knows me well, know that I don't need any extra help in that department. The last of the trivial reasons would be that I have never tolerated the stuff well and suffer from severe hangovers even from light drinking. Alcohol consumption just isn't my thing and to be honest, I really don't miss the experience for the most part.
None of the reasons above are the real reason why I gave up alcohol almost entirely, the real reason is far more serious and complicated in nature, as most everything having to do with my tends to be. Everyone knows that the more alcohol one consumes, the lower most people's inhibitions will go and this is very much that case with me......which is a bad thing. I have a great deal of what people would call inhibitions or what I call defensive measures to keep me from suffering harm at the hands of others. The lower my inhibitions go, the lower my defense measures go and the more vulnerable I become. Though this may seem fun to me at the time, having my defenses go down completely creates extreme amounts of anxiety in the aftermath. Part of the problem is that I become extremely honest with people and my feelings toward them. My ex-wife used to love it when I would get tipsy or drunk because I would spend all of my time telling her how much I loved her and whatnot (thank goodness I don't have that problem any longer). The honesty thing is almost always in a very positive fashion, but the problem comes from the fact that no one knows just how honest and serious I am being when I tell them something when I'm drunk. If there is one thing in life that I absolutely abhor, it's not being taken seriously when I'm being completely honest. The fact that most people dismiss what I am saying as being nothing more than the liquor talking works in my advantage for keeping my secrets secret.
I honestly really, really hate being drunk. Why? Because I'm no longer in control of myself and I have no idea what I may say or do, which can lead to VERY serious consequences. When I drink I remain a very jovial and fun drunk 95% of the time. Most people find me to be very entertaining and funny when I'm drunk, which is actually a pretty good thing.......as long as I stay that way. Occasionally something will happen that will bring up vivid flashbacks of past trauma, this is when not being in control of my personality and reactions becomes a very serious problem and could very easily prove to be fatal for me.
There have been a few instances in the past where something will occur to trigger a flashback within my mind and I will very abruptly go to very dark places. Fortunately for me, every time that has occurred I have been with safe people who have known that it was unsafe for me to be alone and unsupervised. The last time this sort of thing occurred was less than a week after my wife left me on the island and I came across a cougar, who had far less then Honorable intentions (a story for a later time). Now a LOT of trauma has occurred for me in the last seven years and I have suicidal thoughts on a regular basis (just this morning in fact). I even have two different plans to accomplish said task, neither one of which I have access to and my physicians have been made aware of both plans. At this point in my life consuming anything that would lower my inhibitions or lessen my control over my thoughts would be very ill advised since I would have no rational control over suicidal impulses. I don't consider this to be a bad thing though and really don't mind, I tend to want to wander through life with my senses and mind as sharp as they can be. I've personally seen too many times what substance addiction does to people and given my familial history, it's just another reason for me not to tempt fate. Mood altering substances just aren't for me, though I'm glad for people who can enjoy them.....in moderation.
None of the reasons above are the real reason why I gave up alcohol almost entirely, the real reason is far more serious and complicated in nature, as most everything having to do with my tends to be. Everyone knows that the more alcohol one consumes, the lower most people's inhibitions will go and this is very much that case with me......which is a bad thing. I have a great deal of what people would call inhibitions or what I call defensive measures to keep me from suffering harm at the hands of others. The lower my inhibitions go, the lower my defense measures go and the more vulnerable I become. Though this may seem fun to me at the time, having my defenses go down completely creates extreme amounts of anxiety in the aftermath. Part of the problem is that I become extremely honest with people and my feelings toward them. My ex-wife used to love it when I would get tipsy or drunk because I would spend all of my time telling her how much I loved her and whatnot (thank goodness I don't have that problem any longer). The honesty thing is almost always in a very positive fashion, but the problem comes from the fact that no one knows just how honest and serious I am being when I tell them something when I'm drunk. If there is one thing in life that I absolutely abhor, it's not being taken seriously when I'm being completely honest. The fact that most people dismiss what I am saying as being nothing more than the liquor talking works in my advantage for keeping my secrets secret.
I honestly really, really hate being drunk. Why? Because I'm no longer in control of myself and I have no idea what I may say or do, which can lead to VERY serious consequences. When I drink I remain a very jovial and fun drunk 95% of the time. Most people find me to be very entertaining and funny when I'm drunk, which is actually a pretty good thing.......as long as I stay that way. Occasionally something will happen that will bring up vivid flashbacks of past trauma, this is when not being in control of my personality and reactions becomes a very serious problem and could very easily prove to be fatal for me.
There have been a few instances in the past where something will occur to trigger a flashback within my mind and I will very abruptly go to very dark places. Fortunately for me, every time that has occurred I have been with safe people who have known that it was unsafe for me to be alone and unsupervised. The last time this sort of thing occurred was less than a week after my wife left me on the island and I came across a cougar, who had far less then Honorable intentions (a story for a later time). Now a LOT of trauma has occurred for me in the last seven years and I have suicidal thoughts on a regular basis (just this morning in fact). I even have two different plans to accomplish said task, neither one of which I have access to and my physicians have been made aware of both plans. At this point in my life consuming anything that would lower my inhibitions or lessen my control over my thoughts would be very ill advised since I would have no rational control over suicidal impulses. I don't consider this to be a bad thing though and really don't mind, I tend to want to wander through life with my senses and mind as sharp as they can be. I've personally seen too many times what substance addiction does to people and given my familial history, it's just another reason for me not to tempt fate. Mood altering substances just aren't for me, though I'm glad for people who can enjoy them.....in moderation.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Resentment: The art of drinking poison and expecting the other person to get sick.
"Only the unimaginative resort to violence."
I just came up with that statement above, though I seriously doubt I am the first to ponder those words. Recently I established with a new psychiatrist and had to go through the usual screening process and there are always questions regarding anger issues. I told my psychiatrist that I don't have anger issues, I have resentment issues. To some this may seem like splitting hairs, but to me it's a very distinct difference. In my mind, people with anger issues are people who are prone to outbursts of violence and/or destruction. I'm not saying that I don't have a temper or aren't prone to angry outbursts, I'm just saying that I'm not an angry person in a violent sense. This is important to establish in light of all of the recent shootings and whatnot perpetrated by people with serious mental illness. I am NOT a violent person, I abhor violence in all of it's forms. I would never bring myself to do someone else any physical harm, it's just not who I am........ that being said, physical wounds can be healed, emotional wounds take far longer to resolve and leave deeper scars.
Me and resentment go back a long way, a very very, long way. I've had resentments against people since my earliest memories (frequently resentments are the only memories that I have of my childhood). Due to the multiple levels and sources of abuse I suffered growing up, I had to develop ways to survive and give myself a reason to keep on living. Solitude helped me to survive and the idea of vengeance gave me a reason to keep living. Once again, I am not a violent person, nor do I ever want to be one. If violence is going to be how I was going to get even with those who abused me, what would I use in its stead? Simple. I want those who wronged me to know exactly what it feels like to be me. Hated. Misunderstood. Flawed. Broken. Stupid. Worthless. Less than human. A waste of time. Nothing.
To make someone else see the misery of my existence would be the absolute worst thing that I could possibly perpetrate upon another person. That speaks of how much I value myself and the pain I live with. Just once I would like to see the horror on someone's face when he or she sees what emotional pain I've endured...........that's never going to happen though and when opportunities present themselves for me to capitalize on, I rarely act, if ever. I have too much compassion, even for my enemies. Occasionally someone will fall prey to their own doings, but I almost never have a hand in it.
So I have compassion, that's great, right? Yes, I have compassion.......but I still carry the resentment with me. The resentment I have for people continually poisons my soul a little each and every day. Recently I suffered a pretty serious betrayal by numerous coworkers, one that has left me extremely bitter. On one hand, I know that they are human beings and that we all work in a very toxic and taxing work environment. One where there is virtually no acknowledgement or positive feedback from anyone other than our peers. On the other hand, the one rule I would never break would be to sell someone out like I was. We may work in a hell hole, but we are all suffering the same in said hell hole. We need to have each other's back and we need to support one another when we stumble. I've seen coworkers stumble and do things I did not approve of, but I NEVER sold any of them out (unless it presented a risk to our patients). I always let them struggle a bit to understand and come to grips with what they had done......and then I would offer my hand and support to that person. Well, I stumbled recently, more than once. In fact, I fell flat on my face. I got up, tried to dust myself off, went back too early......and got hit by a proverbial bus. Only two people held out their hand in support during any of this turbulent time for me. One is a physician and the other is someone who also knows a lot about silent kinds of pain. The rest stabbed me in the back for the favor of someone pushing an agenda. Someone who has showed time and time again that she is only out to make herself look good and will burn anyone to accomplish that goal.....and will burn those same people that betrayed me as soon as the opportunity presents itself without a second thought.
I am so bitter. I am so resentful. I want to have revenge on each and every one of those involved. I've said before, I'm always watching, I always listening, and I'm always gathering data in case situations like this arise. Worse yet, I can be very subtle, devious, and manipulative when I want to be. Information control (to hide my true self) is an every day activity for me.....turning that ability on others wouldn't take much imagination on my part and I'm VERY articulate. Since I work with a bunch of human beings, full of personal quirks and faults, I have no want for information, it's all there for the taking.
Numerous opportunities have already presented themselves and though I hunger for vengeance so much, I can't bring myself to actually take it. Of course, that makes me the better person.....or does it? I still lose at the end of the day because the resentment never goes away, nor does the hurt. So I go with the other option that I've always relied on: solitude. The cycle continues.
I just came up with that statement above, though I seriously doubt I am the first to ponder those words. Recently I established with a new psychiatrist and had to go through the usual screening process and there are always questions regarding anger issues. I told my psychiatrist that I don't have anger issues, I have resentment issues. To some this may seem like splitting hairs, but to me it's a very distinct difference. In my mind, people with anger issues are people who are prone to outbursts of violence and/or destruction. I'm not saying that I don't have a temper or aren't prone to angry outbursts, I'm just saying that I'm not an angry person in a violent sense. This is important to establish in light of all of the recent shootings and whatnot perpetrated by people with serious mental illness. I am NOT a violent person, I abhor violence in all of it's forms. I would never bring myself to do someone else any physical harm, it's just not who I am........ that being said, physical wounds can be healed, emotional wounds take far longer to resolve and leave deeper scars.
Me and resentment go back a long way, a very very, long way. I've had resentments against people since my earliest memories (frequently resentments are the only memories that I have of my childhood). Due to the multiple levels and sources of abuse I suffered growing up, I had to develop ways to survive and give myself a reason to keep on living. Solitude helped me to survive and the idea of vengeance gave me a reason to keep living. Once again, I am not a violent person, nor do I ever want to be one. If violence is going to be how I was going to get even with those who abused me, what would I use in its stead? Simple. I want those who wronged me to know exactly what it feels like to be me. Hated. Misunderstood. Flawed. Broken. Stupid. Worthless. Less than human. A waste of time. Nothing.
To make someone else see the misery of my existence would be the absolute worst thing that I could possibly perpetrate upon another person. That speaks of how much I value myself and the pain I live with. Just once I would like to see the horror on someone's face when he or she sees what emotional pain I've endured...........that's never going to happen though and when opportunities present themselves for me to capitalize on, I rarely act, if ever. I have too much compassion, even for my enemies. Occasionally someone will fall prey to their own doings, but I almost never have a hand in it.
So I have compassion, that's great, right? Yes, I have compassion.......but I still carry the resentment with me. The resentment I have for people continually poisons my soul a little each and every day. Recently I suffered a pretty serious betrayal by numerous coworkers, one that has left me extremely bitter. On one hand, I know that they are human beings and that we all work in a very toxic and taxing work environment. One where there is virtually no acknowledgement or positive feedback from anyone other than our peers. On the other hand, the one rule I would never break would be to sell someone out like I was. We may work in a hell hole, but we are all suffering the same in said hell hole. We need to have each other's back and we need to support one another when we stumble. I've seen coworkers stumble and do things I did not approve of, but I NEVER sold any of them out (unless it presented a risk to our patients). I always let them struggle a bit to understand and come to grips with what they had done......and then I would offer my hand and support to that person. Well, I stumbled recently, more than once. In fact, I fell flat on my face. I got up, tried to dust myself off, went back too early......and got hit by a proverbial bus. Only two people held out their hand in support during any of this turbulent time for me. One is a physician and the other is someone who also knows a lot about silent kinds of pain. The rest stabbed me in the back for the favor of someone pushing an agenda. Someone who has showed time and time again that she is only out to make herself look good and will burn anyone to accomplish that goal.....and will burn those same people that betrayed me as soon as the opportunity presents itself without a second thought.
I am so bitter. I am so resentful. I want to have revenge on each and every one of those involved. I've said before, I'm always watching, I always listening, and I'm always gathering data in case situations like this arise. Worse yet, I can be very subtle, devious, and manipulative when I want to be. Information control (to hide my true self) is an every day activity for me.....turning that ability on others wouldn't take much imagination on my part and I'm VERY articulate. Since I work with a bunch of human beings, full of personal quirks and faults, I have no want for information, it's all there for the taking.
Numerous opportunities have already presented themselves and though I hunger for vengeance so much, I can't bring myself to actually take it. Of course, that makes me the better person.....or does it? I still lose at the end of the day because the resentment never goes away, nor does the hurt. So I go with the other option that I've always relied on: solitude. The cycle continues.
Going your own way is hard
One thing that I'm assaulted with every day is the reminder of just how different my lifestyle choices are from from your average 41 year old male. To begin with, I'm single and have been for nearly four years now. Most men my age are married, many on their second marriages. Also, the great majority have families, which has never been a goal of mine. Being single at 41 isn't the easiest thing if you are actively looking to find a soul mate or companion. However, I have all but given up the pursuit of a relationship within the last 3 years, primarily because I abhor dating and finding women who I connect with is next to impossible. Still there is a societal pressure for people to be in relationships and I guess I feel like I'm a bit of an oddity (which is a recurrent theme).
Back when I was married in the mid 2000s, it gradually became clear to me that the standard, "get married, buy a house, settle down, and have kids" idea of life was not going to work for me at all. That sort of thing just seemed too boring to me. Now I'm not criticizing those who went and did just that, I'm just saying that it was not the path for me. Unfortunately by late 2006 things were beginning to become stale in my marriage, it was clear that I was unhappy with the way things were going, and I didn't care for life in Spokane in general. Early in 2007 my wife proposed moving to Kauai, something I was originally reluctant to consider out of logistical reasons, but I soon came around to the idea. I knew going into things that we weren't going to be able to imagine how different life on one of the less populous islands in Hawaii was going to be for us and I did my best to convey that to my wife. We decided to move forward with the idea and before we knew it, we were fully committed. It was decided that I would move over to the island early to find us a place to live and start getting things settled while my wife took care of things in Spokane.
Within a few days after arriving on the island, it became very clear to me that moving to Kauai was exactly the sort of adventure I was looking for and I embraced my new lifestyle with gusto. This proved to be the final nail in the coffin of my marriage though. My wife arrived 4 weeks later and was immediately taken aback with the changes that had occurred within me. Worse yet, instead of embracing the lifestyle and culture like I had, she went into culture shock and quickly began to panic and become depressed. I tried to encourage her to embrace our new surroundings, but it was just too much for her. Finally, after only 6 weeks on the island, it became clear to me that things weren't going to work and that my wife needed to move back to the mainland. I finally told her that she go home even though I loved her and wanted her to stay with me. She told me that she no longer recognized the person I was and told me I should stay on the island to pursue my desires. So my wife flew home to Spokane on the very day that our two dogs were due to fly over to the island. It was decided that I would keep Jack and that she would take our other dog. She left that morning and Jack arrived later that afternoon. I wanted my wife and I to part (and remain) as friends with the understanding that our lives were just going in two different directions. Unfortunately that was not to remain the case as she renounced me shortly after returning home, stating that I was going to hell because I'm and atheist and she began dating one (and eventually marrying) one of the groomsmen in our wedding. That's neither here nor there though, I wish them well and hope they are happy together. The important thing is that Jack and I were now free to pursue our adventures together on Kauai..........
........and many adventures we did have. Unfortunately for us, the saying "be careful what you wish for" became a running theme in our lives. Though I did my best to make to most of things while on the island, things just just weren't in the cards to work out for Jack and I. Make no mistake, he and I did A LOT of amazing things there, things that I will never forget, but there were far too many obstacles and trauma for it to last. So just two years later, Jack and I found ourselves on a plane headed back to the mainland. Despite my best efforts to make things work and make Kauai our new home, my dream had failed.
To say that we crash landed back on the mainland would be the understatement of the century and it took over a year before we had our own living space again. It was at this time that the full realization of just how different what we had just done over the previous two years began to occur. During those two years, most of my friends had either moved on, settled down, bought homes, had children, or all of the above. In addition to those things, life on the island had radically changed who I was, both in very positive and some negative fashions. I had seen and done things that no one I knew could relate to or appreciate nor was anyone really that interested in what any of those experiences were. This was mostly because of the what I listed above, especially in regards to having children (I'm not knocking family life at all). Worst of all, the negative experiences and trauma I experienced through the divorce, living on the island, falling into debt, and coming home to find all I had left was Jack and my car, really poured gasoline on my preexisting mental health issues......then there was my sister's suicide (something to be discussed at length in the very near future).
Coming to grips with the person I am now has been a very arduous process over the last six years, something that has been greatly complicated by numerous unfortunate events and circumstances. Between my experiences and mental illness, I now find have a very difficult time forming bonds and relationships with people. To be succinct, I feel very different from everyone, almost alien at times. It is this concept that I probably struggle the most with. Like I said above, being 41 and single without children is a little outside the social norm. My experiences on the island give me a somewhat unique outlook on life when compared with the average person living in Montana. On top of that, I never have really fit into any existing social category, my pursuits and interests are about as widely varied as you are going to find in an individual. I shun almost all forms of mainstream media (TV, cable, radio), I'm an atheist, and I work evenings in the basement of a hospital. I recently came to the realization that my idea of what a 41 years old, single male is "supposed" to be doing at this point in his life and what I want to be doing are two different things entirely.
Going my own way is really hard though, especially when I have such a strong desire to be accepted and have a sense of belonging. Missoula is a good place to live as far as communities that accept people who do their own thing goes. People tell me that I need to find a group to associate myself with. This is very sound advice, but I have pretty serious trust issues and social anxiety. I'm tired of trying to fit in anywhere though, I just want to be free to pursue any interests that I want to without fear of any rejection, be that real or perceived. I have to learn just who I am, what I really want to do, try to make connections with people, and absolutely must learn to accept myself. I'm very proud to be unique and different, but I'm ashamed at the same time. I have no idea where I'm going at this point in my life and I really wish I could figure that out or at least get an idea of it. I must always go my own way though, it's not going to be easy, but I must do it. Hopefully answers and some measure of companionship are out there for me.
Back when I was married in the mid 2000s, it gradually became clear to me that the standard, "get married, buy a house, settle down, and have kids" idea of life was not going to work for me at all. That sort of thing just seemed too boring to me. Now I'm not criticizing those who went and did just that, I'm just saying that it was not the path for me. Unfortunately by late 2006 things were beginning to become stale in my marriage, it was clear that I was unhappy with the way things were going, and I didn't care for life in Spokane in general. Early in 2007 my wife proposed moving to Kauai, something I was originally reluctant to consider out of logistical reasons, but I soon came around to the idea. I knew going into things that we weren't going to be able to imagine how different life on one of the less populous islands in Hawaii was going to be for us and I did my best to convey that to my wife. We decided to move forward with the idea and before we knew it, we were fully committed. It was decided that I would move over to the island early to find us a place to live and start getting things settled while my wife took care of things in Spokane.
Within a few days after arriving on the island, it became very clear to me that moving to Kauai was exactly the sort of adventure I was looking for and I embraced my new lifestyle with gusto. This proved to be the final nail in the coffin of my marriage though. My wife arrived 4 weeks later and was immediately taken aback with the changes that had occurred within me. Worse yet, instead of embracing the lifestyle and culture like I had, she went into culture shock and quickly began to panic and become depressed. I tried to encourage her to embrace our new surroundings, but it was just too much for her. Finally, after only 6 weeks on the island, it became clear to me that things weren't going to work and that my wife needed to move back to the mainland. I finally told her that she go home even though I loved her and wanted her to stay with me. She told me that she no longer recognized the person I was and told me I should stay on the island to pursue my desires. So my wife flew home to Spokane on the very day that our two dogs were due to fly over to the island. It was decided that I would keep Jack and that she would take our other dog. She left that morning and Jack arrived later that afternoon. I wanted my wife and I to part (and remain) as friends with the understanding that our lives were just going in two different directions. Unfortunately that was not to remain the case as she renounced me shortly after returning home, stating that I was going to hell because I'm and atheist and she began dating one (and eventually marrying) one of the groomsmen in our wedding. That's neither here nor there though, I wish them well and hope they are happy together. The important thing is that Jack and I were now free to pursue our adventures together on Kauai..........
........and many adventures we did have. Unfortunately for us, the saying "be careful what you wish for" became a running theme in our lives. Though I did my best to make to most of things while on the island, things just just weren't in the cards to work out for Jack and I. Make no mistake, he and I did A LOT of amazing things there, things that I will never forget, but there were far too many obstacles and trauma for it to last. So just two years later, Jack and I found ourselves on a plane headed back to the mainland. Despite my best efforts to make things work and make Kauai our new home, my dream had failed.
To say that we crash landed back on the mainland would be the understatement of the century and it took over a year before we had our own living space again. It was at this time that the full realization of just how different what we had just done over the previous two years began to occur. During those two years, most of my friends had either moved on, settled down, bought homes, had children, or all of the above. In addition to those things, life on the island had radically changed who I was, both in very positive and some negative fashions. I had seen and done things that no one I knew could relate to or appreciate nor was anyone really that interested in what any of those experiences were. This was mostly because of the what I listed above, especially in regards to having children (I'm not knocking family life at all). Worst of all, the negative experiences and trauma I experienced through the divorce, living on the island, falling into debt, and coming home to find all I had left was Jack and my car, really poured gasoline on my preexisting mental health issues......then there was my sister's suicide (something to be discussed at length in the very near future).
Coming to grips with the person I am now has been a very arduous process over the last six years, something that has been greatly complicated by numerous unfortunate events and circumstances. Between my experiences and mental illness, I now find have a very difficult time forming bonds and relationships with people. To be succinct, I feel very different from everyone, almost alien at times. It is this concept that I probably struggle the most with. Like I said above, being 41 and single without children is a little outside the social norm. My experiences on the island give me a somewhat unique outlook on life when compared with the average person living in Montana. On top of that, I never have really fit into any existing social category, my pursuits and interests are about as widely varied as you are going to find in an individual. I shun almost all forms of mainstream media (TV, cable, radio), I'm an atheist, and I work evenings in the basement of a hospital. I recently came to the realization that my idea of what a 41 years old, single male is "supposed" to be doing at this point in his life and what I want to be doing are two different things entirely.
Going my own way is really hard though, especially when I have such a strong desire to be accepted and have a sense of belonging. Missoula is a good place to live as far as communities that accept people who do their own thing goes. People tell me that I need to find a group to associate myself with. This is very sound advice, but I have pretty serious trust issues and social anxiety. I'm tired of trying to fit in anywhere though, I just want to be free to pursue any interests that I want to without fear of any rejection, be that real or perceived. I have to learn just who I am, what I really want to do, try to make connections with people, and absolutely must learn to accept myself. I'm very proud to be unique and different, but I'm ashamed at the same time. I have no idea where I'm going at this point in my life and I really wish I could figure that out or at least get an idea of it. I must always go my own way though, it's not going to be easy, but I must do it. Hopefully answers and some measure of companionship are out there for me.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Meaning and complexity through subtlety and misdirection
Most people who work with me will attest to the idea that I am a very outspoken, sometimes bold and/or brash, and always opinionated individual. To those people it would seem that I am a very easy person to read or interpret, but they couldn't be more incorrect if they tried because that is exactly what I want them to think.
Most of things I say at work are very calculated sorts of things to give people a sense of what I want them to see and more importantly, keep them distracted from what I don't want them to see. They may think they know exactly what I'm thinking or what I'm implying when I say something, but like I said above, that is exactly what I want them to think. There are a few whom I work with that are what I like to call "safe individuals", but the vast majority are too petty and wrapped up in there own problems to look beyond themselves to try to understand someone who is layered in complexities. I could be thinking of ways to end my own life and everyone at work would be thinking about how good of a mood I'm in. Our medical director, who happens to be a trusted friend, remarked one day about how well it seemed that I was doing. I told her that's exactly what she was supposed to think and that I had been thinking of taking my life that very day. That's how good I am as disguising what is going on underneath....most times.
If there is something my sister and I have in common, it's the ability to tell people exactly what they want to hear at any given moment to keep them away from the truth or honest feeling moment. It's almost a game for me sometimes at work, seeing how far away from the truth I can keep them. To those who can't see through my deception, I appear to be flippant, cold, and insensitive.....and that's exactly what I want them to think. In truth, the exact opposite is true, I am extremely, sensitive, emotional, and compassionate, but usually only show it when playing devil's advocate or when under extreme stress and don't have the energy to keep the subterfuge going. I these tactics of deception as a test of sorts because it's a great way to see who is capable of seeing through the complexities of the performance that I'm giving. The most interesting part is that there usually three or four layers of truth to be deduced, each gaining in complexity the deeper you get. To try to peel these layers back is to really get to know who I am and what really stand for. You have to first see through the deception and most individuals never see past that and see only me at face value. People who know better see that almost everything that comes out of my mouth is very calculated and is designed to keep people away from the truth.
Now, many would argue that such a duplicitous nature is unsavory, but those are the types who aren't going to be able to understand my true thoughts and intentions. The truth is that I am a very sensitive individual and it is absolutely necessary that I hide that information from people that aren't going to respect or understand that fact. I've been hurt too many times by people willing to take advantage to my soft and sensitive nature to disastrous effect to my psyche. Four years ago, someone was smart enough to make it through all of my defenses and gain access to almost all of my most sensitive wounds. Unfortunately her intentions were anything but benign and she did untold amounts of damage to me before I was able to extricate myself from her web of lies. Thus the necessity for the barrier maze, those who choose to navigate it are under extreme scrutiny from me at all times in order to discover their character and intentions. If I judge someone to be safe, I usually will give access to a few upper layers of my true personality for starters to see what they do with the information. Those that are judged as a danger encounter more and more complex illusions, false statements and diversionary tactics.
As it stands right now, only one person I work directly with has any access to anything other than diversionary webs I weave. No one from work has access to this or my Facebook feed either, so my secret will remain just that. Facebook friends beware though, I would be lying if I said I only behaved this way at work. When I'm doing poorly and don't want anyone to know what's really going on inside my head, I use these tactics with gusto because I don't want anyone to get wind of the conflict.
It all boils down to the fact that I don't want interference or manipulation from outside parties, especially when it comes to very personal, sensitive, and private issues that can be easily misunderstood or downright incomprehensible to anyone save for those who have been there. Please don't take any of this personally, these are all defense tactics to keep me free from harm and manipulation. Like I said, the truth is there within everything I say and do, it's purposefully difficult to discern. That being said, if I say I am being truthful, that is ALWAYS to be taken at face value because it is the truth. It should be noted that I have warned my physicians about things I will say, do and ask for when in extremis, but don't think I don't have backup plans up my sleeves.
I am being honest right now by saying that I'm not suicidal at the moment. That being said, there is a very significant chance that I will die by my own hand in the future. If that moment does indeed arrive, there will be no warning or cry for help, for I want my decision to mine and mine alone. This is going to really upset people who actually read this drivel, but the truth is the truth. From a statistical standpoint, people with diagnoses similar to mine have less than favorable prognoses. To be honest, I would prefer to accept death on my own terms, there is a certain level of courage in that. My sister was brave enough and had to clarity to see what the rest of her life was going to be like and she chose to end her suffering. Though I miss her every single day and will do so for the rest of my life, I will always respect her decision and the courage it took to end her nightmare.
So there it is, the truth....or is it. I'm already formulating strategies to keep people from getting too close to me as a result of this information. Yes, I am taking a huge gamble by revealing all of this, but I am more than confident that I can deflect any further inquiries into the truth......it's all a game really.
Most of things I say at work are very calculated sorts of things to give people a sense of what I want them to see and more importantly, keep them distracted from what I don't want them to see. They may think they know exactly what I'm thinking or what I'm implying when I say something, but like I said above, that is exactly what I want them to think. There are a few whom I work with that are what I like to call "safe individuals", but the vast majority are too petty and wrapped up in there own problems to look beyond themselves to try to understand someone who is layered in complexities. I could be thinking of ways to end my own life and everyone at work would be thinking about how good of a mood I'm in. Our medical director, who happens to be a trusted friend, remarked one day about how well it seemed that I was doing. I told her that's exactly what she was supposed to think and that I had been thinking of taking my life that very day. That's how good I am as disguising what is going on underneath....most times.
If there is something my sister and I have in common, it's the ability to tell people exactly what they want to hear at any given moment to keep them away from the truth or honest feeling moment. It's almost a game for me sometimes at work, seeing how far away from the truth I can keep them. To those who can't see through my deception, I appear to be flippant, cold, and insensitive.....and that's exactly what I want them to think. In truth, the exact opposite is true, I am extremely, sensitive, emotional, and compassionate, but usually only show it when playing devil's advocate or when under extreme stress and don't have the energy to keep the subterfuge going. I these tactics of deception as a test of sorts because it's a great way to see who is capable of seeing through the complexities of the performance that I'm giving. The most interesting part is that there usually three or four layers of truth to be deduced, each gaining in complexity the deeper you get. To try to peel these layers back is to really get to know who I am and what really stand for. You have to first see through the deception and most individuals never see past that and see only me at face value. People who know better see that almost everything that comes out of my mouth is very calculated and is designed to keep people away from the truth.
Now, many would argue that such a duplicitous nature is unsavory, but those are the types who aren't going to be able to understand my true thoughts and intentions. The truth is that I am a very sensitive individual and it is absolutely necessary that I hide that information from people that aren't going to respect or understand that fact. I've been hurt too many times by people willing to take advantage to my soft and sensitive nature to disastrous effect to my psyche. Four years ago, someone was smart enough to make it through all of my defenses and gain access to almost all of my most sensitive wounds. Unfortunately her intentions were anything but benign and she did untold amounts of damage to me before I was able to extricate myself from her web of lies. Thus the necessity for the barrier maze, those who choose to navigate it are under extreme scrutiny from me at all times in order to discover their character and intentions. If I judge someone to be safe, I usually will give access to a few upper layers of my true personality for starters to see what they do with the information. Those that are judged as a danger encounter more and more complex illusions, false statements and diversionary tactics.
As it stands right now, only one person I work directly with has any access to anything other than diversionary webs I weave. No one from work has access to this or my Facebook feed either, so my secret will remain just that. Facebook friends beware though, I would be lying if I said I only behaved this way at work. When I'm doing poorly and don't want anyone to know what's really going on inside my head, I use these tactics with gusto because I don't want anyone to get wind of the conflict.
It all boils down to the fact that I don't want interference or manipulation from outside parties, especially when it comes to very personal, sensitive, and private issues that can be easily misunderstood or downright incomprehensible to anyone save for those who have been there. Please don't take any of this personally, these are all defense tactics to keep me free from harm and manipulation. Like I said, the truth is there within everything I say and do, it's purposefully difficult to discern. That being said, if I say I am being truthful, that is ALWAYS to be taken at face value because it is the truth. It should be noted that I have warned my physicians about things I will say, do and ask for when in extremis, but don't think I don't have backup plans up my sleeves.
I am being honest right now by saying that I'm not suicidal at the moment. That being said, there is a very significant chance that I will die by my own hand in the future. If that moment does indeed arrive, there will be no warning or cry for help, for I want my decision to mine and mine alone. This is going to really upset people who actually read this drivel, but the truth is the truth. From a statistical standpoint, people with diagnoses similar to mine have less than favorable prognoses. To be honest, I would prefer to accept death on my own terms, there is a certain level of courage in that. My sister was brave enough and had to clarity to see what the rest of her life was going to be like and she chose to end her suffering. Though I miss her every single day and will do so for the rest of my life, I will always respect her decision and the courage it took to end her nightmare.
So there it is, the truth....or is it. I'm already formulating strategies to keep people from getting too close to me as a result of this information. Yes, I am taking a huge gamble by revealing all of this, but I am more than confident that I can deflect any further inquiries into the truth......it's all a game really.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)