Tag: failure

A flashback to a past accomplishment

Even though this blog is my outlet for expressing the frustrations and difficulties that I don’t subject those in my “real life” to, occasionally it’s healthy to bring up something positive from the past too. Especially since writing about it gives my mind a short break from the mental hell that I’ve often been in for many years.

I’ve shared old baseball stories here briefly before. But while I’ll always be a baseball player at heart, a lot of my focus switched to tennis and pickup hoops during my teen years.

Was never a natural at either, but I was a good enough athlete to still improve over the years. Ended up being on the tennis team (and one of the top seeds on the team) throughout high school, despite how I was just a self-taught hack who didn’t have the polish and experience to beat the country-club type kids who’d been taking lessons their whole life, etc etc.

The perfect example of “that” type was our high school’s #1 player when I was a sophomore and he was a senior. Roberto. He destroyed most people in the area and went on to compete for the state championship. A big guy with a huge serve and nasty strong groundstrokes.

You watched him play and thought about how that was a level that most people never reached.

So when I went to college (a huge university), I continued to play recreationally all the time. By my senior year there, I’d honed my baseliner-esque skills as sharply as they could get. But when I entered the yearly student tennis competition, I never assumed that anything too memorable would come from it. Cause there were always a few people around who were just too advanced and skilled for me to handle.

That was what made the following six weeks so surprising.

Here’s how the competition was done: everyone who signed up was randomly thrown into groups of six. You played the other five people in your group, and then the top two (from each six) would advance to a single elimination tournament.

I breezed through those first five matches. And when the tournament bracket came out (which had about 60 or 65 players in it), I noticed that whoever set it up must’ve noticed how I and one other player had dominated so far. Because even though there were no formal rankings, you could tell that I was unofficially the #2 seed in the tournament. While a very familiar name was on top as the #1 seed:

Roberto.

Yep, there he was. Probably in med school at the university already or something.

Both of us kept advancing. By the time the semifinals came around, I was still in my best form and hadn’t even lost a set throughout any rounds.

Won my semifinal in straight sets too. So as I was on my way to the finals…..this huge tournament that I’d never come close to winning anything similar before….you know what’s next, right?

After 10 years of my game slowly improving step by step, it was time to see if I could come full circle and beat the guy who was the standard for tennis excellence growing up.

However…..once I got to the match, there was just one problem: the other player wasn’t Roberto. I’d just assumed that he’d win his semifinal; hadn’t even checked. But this other guy had just knocked him out.

Bet you didn’t see that coming?

Anyway, it didn’t even matter to me. I was there to try and win the tournament; there was no tying my ego to having it be directly through him.

Which I then did. In three tough sets, I pulled it out and won the championship. To absolutely no fanfare and no one watching, I’d just accomplished something that I never thought would happen.

I’d beaten the guy who beat Roberto and (out of over 200 players at the beginning) was the last one standing.

While this wasn’t the athletic moment that meant the most to me (as much as I respect the tennis court, those will always be baseball)…….it was definitely the most impressive.

I really miss that feeling. Success. Feeling like I was at the top of something. Pride. Accomplishment. It’s something I haven’t had for so many years now (and especially into the beginning of this midlife crisis).

Can only hope that someday, I can put together some life redemption that turns me back into that person. Even if it’s just for a short while.

Because I miss him.

Shawshank and the “hope” debate: sorry Red

One of my favorite movies is the Shawshank Redemption. For those who may not know it, it’s based on the prison life of a wrongly convicted murderer (Andy) and how he eventually gains his freedom after about 20 years of (very) slowly digging a tunnel out of his cell.

A famous scene from that movie involves Andy talking to his best inmate friend “Red” about hope. And Red is against having it there, as he feels that hope is a dangerous thing that can drive a man crazy inside prison walls .

Well, Red, I have to disagree with you (just as Andy did). As someone who’s been in his own figurative prison for about that long, I can relate to the situation some.

(And no, I’m not claiming that could compare to being in Shawshank!) But the key similarity is how any seemingly endless prison can still ruin your life.

Unless you find a way to get out.

And I can tell you that the main thing that keeps me going, as I hit new life low after low (another one today), is the hope that the future will be much better and include my own “redemption” of regaining my success of many years ago. Having that happen would involve plenty of aspects both in and out of my own control. So the odds may not be very good.

But if there is ANY realistic chance…..you have to hold on tight to it. Otherwise, you’re doomed to stay in despair from now on.

The good news is that last week, there was a money making opportunity here in my city that I hadn’t seen in ages. While it was way too high stakes for me to go after (given my current situation), just the fact that it was available to me was a jaw dropper.

I thought, well, if something like that can pop up so unexpectedly now…..maybe when I’m ready for it in 5 or 10 years, similar ones will then too.

Is there any guarantee that will happen though? Not even close. There is no way to know if it were practically a one time opportunity, or if they might start to appear more regularly now and/or much further down the road. So it’s quite possible that I won’t ever be able to get out of this corner that I’ve painted myself into over the last 15 years.

But I still have to do my best to hope. Even if the outlook was still as bleak as possible, there’s no other way to maintain any focus on doing your part to improve your chances (and find a little positivity in an otherwise highly depressed life).

Just ask Red. Without Andy’s hope, he would’ve likely been doomed.

Peaking at 10

As many people get ready for a long holiday weekend of family goodness, I must warn you that while I wish everyone the best for it…..this entry (like many here) will not fit the mold of celebration.

But as I prepare for my own oh-so-enthralling holiday of mostly solitude, I’ve been reminded even more (especially as I watch a Miami Vice marathon on TV as we speak) of where my life path has taken things. And sadly, how I peaked at 10.

No, not 2010. Age 10.

The fall of ’84 to the summer of ’85. Met a new best friend to start the school year. Got a computer for christmas. Had my first year of Little League, which ended with my best game of the year as we won the tournament championship against the league’s best team. Overall, the goody good suburban ’80s kiddom existence was in full swing.

Those good times did not last long.

Matt (the best friend) moved away soon after. Then before I knew it, it was time for junior high to begin, which set the tone for my often miserable and outcast teen years.

And even during my freshman year in college (which was amazing and maybe the best year of my life), there was still a hole eating away at me b/c of how I was such a late bloomer with dating and sex. I’ve written before about how that was the beginning of the eventual horrible battle with depression that has haunted me ever since.

So even with all the success I often had otherwise in life during my 20s and early 30s, that battle still kept a huge cloud overhead. And since then, well, play bingo with any of my prior entries to quickly learn how things have been since.

When you add it all up, that’s how it’s easy to argue that my life peaked at such a young age. It’s a sobering thought, but one that looms to be acknowledged.

Especially as I continue to struggle so badly with trying to move forward.

Caught in between

For the past couple of weeks, I have been way south. Checking out the state that should be my next stop for maybe a couple of years, while I hope to iron out so much of life and get prepared for my final destination as soon as possible.

But this has not been easy.

Though I read many of the books that I’d gotten on trying to improve my willpower, diet, and other demons, I’m not in a spot to apply them until I’m settled in somewhere again. So in the meantime, I continue to make the same destructive mistakes.

Then there’s the job hunt. Not surprisingly, I don’t have too many close personal contacts. And in this covid world, that’s even more vital for finding something white collar. It’s hard enough to stay motivated as it is, much less when you look at a dime-a-dozen posting in your field on Linkedin (that’s only six days old), and see that over 100 people have already applied. With my limited 9 to 5 job work experience, there is no way I can compete with even 5 people per opening, much less over 100.

At this point, I simply don’t know how I will solve that employment dilemma.

So I sit here now as we speak, dreading the thought of going to see an old friend tomorrow for a few days, and having to act all normal ok social, yattada yattada. For everyone else who deals with constant depression, you know what THAT’S like. Especially when you’re in the midst of one of those times where your life issues are even more of an urgent problem than they normally are.

One of those times where you wish you could just hibernate until the world has totally changed. No matter how long it takes.

Or even if it never does.

Round and round

If you’re not used to the ’80s song titles, then you haven’t seen enough of my recent entries!

The last couple of months have been very trying. Between helping mom out with a bunch of doctor appointments (her physical health is not good right now) and trying to get tons of tasks done before moving on, I have been at the family’s for longer than I expected. And at this point, since I’m the only close family she has left, I’m going to stay for Thanksgiving before looking more seriously for a new location.

That new location will probably end up being due south. I’ve decided that I am not ready to do my target city again yet, and the Covid effects there make it not ready for me either. Planning on spending a year or two trying to improve life in the warmth (and then hopefully it will finally be time for that permanent destination).

Not what I’d planned, and there’s still no way that I want to wait til anywhere near retirement age to settle in there. But I’m ok with being 48 or so for it.

In the meantime, unfortunately it’s still been the typical. I do better, then worse, put away more sportscards, do better, do worse, better , worse, more cards, etc etc. So between the consistent additions and gains in collectibles value this year, my collection’s worth is still quickly growing and continues to function as a safety net for my lack of discipline with my finances (and life) .

I’ve been asked “How are the cards such a safety net? You could just sell them whenever you need to and have that money available, the same as any other $”. Well, here’s why: when I trade or bet, it’s so quick and easy. A few keystrokes, and you’re done. Lightning fast action. But to sell cards easily at the right price, you have to list them on ebay, take pics, package them up, take it to the post office, give up the ebay fees of around 10%, and so on.

And with my constant depression, coming up with the energy to do all that extra stuff just isn’t appealing. Plus, I’ve already developed a sentimental attachment to the cards. They connect me to my past and to my love for sports. So if I sold the cards (especially to fund addictive and destructive behavior), I’d feel even worse about myself than I already do.

Which means that when I buy something for my personal collection, it stays put. And until I fix myself, that’s a good thing.

Speaking of fixing myself: whenever things turn downward, at some point I’ll still think “ok, this time you are DONE acting like this” and plan to immediately find all the books I need to read about willpower, self-control, diet, and so much else.

But then I never do. Which, as always, makes it nearly impossible to improve my situation for the long term. And usually leads to any new upswings collapsing before long.

Maybe living in the sun year-round will finally give me the motivation that I still haven’t mustered. It definitely won’t hurt, anyway.

Wish me luck.

So close, yet so far away…

This trend of quoting music lyrics is starting to get out of control. Oh well. But this one describes a lot of my past brushes with deeper happiness or meaning in life.

These aren’t those moments that necessarily meant the most, but just examples that quickly come to mind.

Soon after I graduated from college: becoming established in a closer network of friends (which doesn’t happen too often). A situation that would have helped keep my depression a little more at bay. But one of the guys would always look to pick a fight every time we went out, and I just could not enjoy always wondering if every night was going to turn into possibly getting arrested for no good reason. Before long, I started to distance myself from them.

After I moved to California: met someone who I had great chemistry with. But I was still emotionally distanced, and the fact that she made things all about me (obviously some people would love that, but I need balance), combined with how my loner mentality had become more permanently established by then, led to me not pursuing anything more with her.

About five years ago: breaking out into bad 90s R&B singing along with the jukebox with a good friend of my good friend’s boyfriend at a bar (who I’d just met). As a pasty white boy, it is very rare to meet someone who knows that music like I do. After maybe an hour of knowing each other, she and I were already planning how we wanted to go to this concert soon. There was just one problem though: she was batshit crazy. I just couldn’t follow through. Even as little as I value my life sometimes, being turned into a lampshade didn’t sound good.

Three years ago: this time I DID end up at a concert I wanted. But the person with me was a total mismatch for being there. There was someone I briefly dated prior who should have gone with me. Even though I couldn’t see anything serious happening with her, it would have been just right for that particular night.

And once again, those are just a few examples off the top of my head.

This is what most of my years have been like: just on the edge of some meaningful happiness here and there, but coming up just short of it happening. Very close to being just right, but not quite enough. Whether it be friends, significant others, or simply enjoying the best things in life.

Sometimes it’s been my fault, sometimes others’ fault, and sometimes it was no one’s fault. But to this day, the theme has never changed:

So close, yet so far away.

“It’s an affair of the…..mind”

I was just watching a flashback compilation of entertainment from the year 1983. A song by Rick Springfield that I hadn’t heard in awhile came on for a few seconds. “You better know it’s an affaaaair of the heart. Clap…..clap. It’s an affair of the heart”. Love that song. Decided to click on his discography to see how high it charted back then, which led to bumping into his wikipedia page. And finding something quite sad and troubling.

Springfield has pretty much had success his entire adult life. A minor hit album in the early ’70s when he was just starting out, then a regular TV actor for awhile when his music career fizzled temporarily, to becoming a pop superstar during the first half of the ’80s with a huge catalog of great music and big hits, and then back to acting (and even some successful musicals on Broadway).

But while his avenues for success kept changing over a period of many decades, there was one constant in his life: deep, suicidal depression. Which still remains.

When he was 17, he hanged himself (and only lived because the knot broke just in time). Then 50 years later (in 2017), he talked about how he was very close to ending his life again.

And as all of us who’ve dealt with lifetime adult depression know, those 50 years in between his deepest suicidal attempts and thoughts probably weren’t much better for him emotionally.

Here is a guy who always found a way to stay ahead (over a period of many decades, which is naturally so tough to do in show business). And was adored by countless fans. But when your mind is incapable of turning the corner and learning to enjoy life, even those things don’t help nearly enough.

This was a needed reminder for my own situation at the moment, though. I’ve talked so much about how I need to regain enough success to feel better about how I’ve handled life overall (or else I just can’t see myself ever turning any corners emotionally). But I can’t forget how having success didn’t help me achieve that emotional health when I was in my 20s, and it won’t be enough now either.

So if it’s not a well-rounded recovery, it probably won’t matter. I have to be sure to keep my eye on that ball. Achieve a happiness and healthy comfort level of life that balances more than just your career ups and downs.

Or even if I do get back on track, I’ll have the same demons at age 70 that Springfield still does today. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Moving on…yet again

I’m now moved out of my place, except for the rest of the cleaning and loading up some things to bring with me. That will take the rest of the weekend, so I’m at a hotel until Monday morning. But since I’m still in town and have stuff to do, it doesn’t have the same enjoyable feeling of escape that I recently described for my hotel ventures.

This move doesn’t feel the same as the last two, because I knew that they would be somewhat temporary (due to my dad getting so sick). But now, there’s more pressure about finding my first hopefully permanent solution in a long time. Though thanks to the current COVID world, even that is very iffy at the moment.

Unfortunately, things are not going that well. Financially or otherwise. Attempting to get planted in my target city for good is still possible, but definitely questionable. And now it might be delayed because of my mom going out of town to some different doctors soon (along with the constant threat of citywide or statewide shutdowns at my destination and elsewhere).

Basically there are new unavoidable barriers everywhere. As if I hadn’t already created enough of those on my own.

So I’m feeling more antsy than I normally would about all of this. Mom should find out any day now when her doctor’s appointment might be, so at least I should know soon if I can keep my expected departure date of August 11.

And looking at my empty place as I finish up this weekend won’t help. Even though I knew I wouldn’t stay in this city for the long term, jumping all over the place every so often (for the last 15 years) gives an uneasy feeling about how you’re handling life. Especially since with each of the last few moves, I’ve slipped further and further into more troublesome and empty future possibilities.

That’s why I hope that this next one sets me up for the rest of my life. Or if the COVID world delays that for a couple months (or even a couple years), that I get there soon enough to salvage the chance at creating some remaining good years.

Maybe six months ago, I wrote a post about my future was soon going to turn into either a rebirth or a destruction of life (and that there was about a 50/50 chance of each). But with these new developments since then, I’d say even that sounds too optimistic.

I guess we’ll find out.

What world does this globe really represent?

I was just looking around at some of my boxes as the moving day looms closer. Sitting there in the corner was a distinguishable one that I’ve gotten to know well.

Once on vacation during my late 20s, I was walking through a nice shopping galleria with the woman I was dating at the time. There was a high-end knick knack shop that was going out of business. Selling zillion dollar pieces for a few cents and so on.

For no reason whatsoever, I’ve always liked globes. There was a high quality black one there that, of course, was marked down to a fraction of the cost. About 18 inches in diameter, so something that was easy to see but not cumbersome to display. And I’ve never been the oh-so cultured type to liven up my place with something like that. Yes, this purchase was a no-brainer.

After it got delivered, it waited patiently for me to find a stand for it.

About 15 years and four (soon to be five) moves later, it’s still with me. In that same box. Not only have I never bothered to get the stand for it, but I’ve never even taken it out to see it again since.

This symbolizes my existence.

Rarely finishing tasks that aren’t absolutely necessary. Rarely making the most out of my living enviroment. But most importantly, rarely taking pride in myself, my possessions, and the enjoyable things in life.

I’m even doing the same thing lately with the baseball cards that I’ve collected in the last year. Sometimes I look forward to looking back through certain sets. But as you can guess, that hasn’t happened once. Especially since I’m not done getting some of them put away the right way to begin with.

This may not seem like a huge deal on the surface, but habits like this feed my depression regularly. It all happens for a handful of reasons: lack of energy, lack of caring enough to find that energy, a lack of focus to even remember to enjoy myself enough.

But the main one at this stage in my life is this: all of my failures of recent years. When the huge things that went wrong are often at the forefront of my mind, then I can’t appreciate the important little things. They pale by comparison, so I just don’t care enough to try and harvest any positives at all from them.

This is one of the many building blocks of my most important psychological life improvement project going forward: learning to be ok with being happy. I imagine that would make it easier to shove the bad things aside long enough to appreciate the good.

So when I end up in my next destination after this move, one of the first things I need to do is find a stand for that globe. And then prominently display it somewhere that I can always see it. Stop for a moment and look it at least once a day. Both to enjoy it and as therapy to remind myself to make some of these necessary improvements in how my mind sees life.

Up until this point, it’s represented my bad habits. Maybe now, it can be a symbol of getting them fixed.

Success of the past

I miss that feeling.

Drove by the apartment building where I lived during my 20s during my first stint in the city here that I’ll be leaving soon, and one of those times flashed in my memory. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned any stories from my advantage gambling past here, so here is a quick one.

It was the first round of the 1997 NBA playoffs. Had been less than a year since I graduated college, so I was still getting my feet wet in the real world. Though as an avid sports fan my whole life, I felt a lot more seasoned than age 22 in that regard.

Normally a pro’s sports betting advantage comes from a more statistical approach that’s based on the current “market” of the betting lines. It’s usually way too difficult to predict what’s going to happen in sports, so that was not something I tried to do very often.

This was a rare exception to that rule.

The series between the Seattle Supersonics and Phoenix Suns was going to a deciding final game, and the underdog Suns had barely missed a chance to win the series at home in an exhausting overtime battle in the prior game. Seattle was a team that you beat by matching their high energy and competitive level (moreso than with precision on the court with your gameplan), and the Suns had given their all throughout the series so far….only to come up just short of finishing the Sonics off.

Now they had to travel back to Seattle and try to come up with one more big effort against a superior team, and there wasn’t going to be anything left in the tank, either physically or emotionally. I think even the Phoenix players knew it.

Seattle was favored by 9 points in that deciding game, and that seemed like a lot of points on the surface (given how competitive the series had been). But given everything described above, I knew the Suns would likely have a tough time staying anywhere close.

I found the best deals that I could on every Seattle way imaginable. To win the game, to win by more than 9, to win by as many as possible. Probably would’ve even taken their mascot to beat up the Suns’ mascot that day if I could’ve.

As the game came on that day and I watched the Sonics’ awesome player intros (bobbing my head to the music), you could feel what was going to happen. It’s now 23 years later, and to this day I’ve never felt as confident in my prediction of a basketball game as that one.

If you’d like to relive what I felt at that time, watch from about 4:10 to 6:10 here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8XD_5kLR2U

Seattle won easily, 116-92. You can imagine my look and feeling of satisfaction afterward.

But that feeling had nothing to do with a gambling “high”; it was all about feeling that I had an edge. Not just in this aspect, but in life as well. Even though it was only one game, it felt representative of what I could accomplish as a whole.

And for the next 10 years, that turned out to be true. Before I lost my way ever since.

As you might guess, I spend too much time thinking about the past. Maybe it’s because I hope that at some point, that will spark me to relive it eventually.