Tag: lonely

Weakness and the futility of the latest self-improvement attempt

Last weekend I formulated a more detailed plan (to try and improve my bad habits and make the most of my future). Yet another birthday recently, number 49, was the main reason for it.

Was going to start with a better diet to gain more energy and then use that to get back to an exercise plan. And while I still hadn’t come up with a solution for my degenerative addictive habits financially, I hoped that finally improving those other areas (for the first time) might lead to feeling good enough about myself to not self-destruct that way anymore.

And once these improvements were firmly in place, the last piece of the new journey would be quitting my 9 to 5. For those who haven’t read any of my background: I will never be happy with my life that way. The main reason being that it’s a constant reminder of losing my years of self-employment success.

Not to mention how unhealthy it is to be sedentary in an office for 40 hours a week. I wasn’t sure if my possible plan of grinding out enough income on my own (at this point w/ the lack of new opportunities), but I’d need to find out. Especially since I’d have a lot more free time that way to actually enjoy other parts of life.

Monday came, and I brought the cheerios and sandwiches to work to attempt this new stage in life. Even had a time horizon for it. Six months before being ready to leave my job.

And the results were as disappointing as they possibly could have been.

I couldn’t even get through the first day without wavering from the new diet plans. Once I was hungry about 10 pm, I gave in (and then lost my way from then on). Or through the first week without continuing my other horrible life discipline/addictive habits regularly.

This didn’t affect my chances to implement the new plan, but it certainly put a big dent in my motivation and hope. Even though I know that deep self-improvement attempts can easily fail multiple times before succeeding, I just don’t feel like I will ever be strong enough to pull off permanent changes. The depression is sunk in too deep, and my nature of subconsciously fighting happiness may always dictate my behaviors.

Especially since, as I’ve noted in the past, I don’t keep people close enough in my life to help. I don’t need help in figuring out the plans, but I do need someone to help with my willpower and kick me in the ass when necessary.

Without that, these changes may never happen. But will I really end up adding someone like that in my life at this point? Even if I could (and just try finding a new close influence like that at this age), who knows if I’d do it. I’m just too stuck in my sad, solitary comfort zone.

So I sit here as we speak listening to my Sunday laundry spin. Having no idea if I’ll give any of this another try next week. Or the following one.

Or ever.

The bottomless pit of a depressive addict

That bottomless pit.

Something that I’ve been experiencing for the last 13 years. And there are no signs of it changing. Me changing.

It’s not a direct fall at all. I have good days. Days where I feel better about myself or continue a step in the right direction.

But it never lasts.

At first, those bouncebacks were as long as about 6 months. Then before long, just a couple more for 2 or 3 months. After that, for about the last 10 years, they’ve never lasted for longer than around one month. And each time, the bounce is usually less potent as well as less lengthy.

And when each fallback begins, it often takes me to new lows. Those feelings are the worst.

I’m experiencing the latest one today. After spending most of my 30s and the first six years of my 40s this way, I’m quite used to the hurt. It’s not fun.

Especially since each new low nudges that dagger a bit deeper into your pride, your heart, and your soul.

Before I moved back to my target city this spring, I had a plan. And more hope than I’d had in a long time. Now, for reasons I don’t feel like getting into now, I probably won’t stay here. Mostly because of a matter that has nothing to do with my self-destruction, though of course that has already lessened my chances of a successful new life here too.

And here’s the most dangerous part. Don’t want to get into “why” about this yet either, but where I’ll probably end up for a good while next year is that much more problematic for my future well-being. It’s going to feel like a dead end for the entire time and like I’m wasting away more years that I can’t afford to.

That fact has already begun to mess with my desire to succeed again. Well before I even move. Great eh.

But this is the worst part: I can still sink a LOT lower.

Someone was just telling me about how his friend was dumping his cherished sportscard collection b/c of the guy’s severe alcoholism issues. For those that haven’t read any of my prior entries, getting back into that hobby almost two years ago, which I hadn’t been a part of since high school, has been a rare healthy part of my life since.

But even as low as I go, I never feel the urge to finance more self-destruction by selling my cards.

Yet, anyway.

Obviously I hope that never changes. But who knows. Especially with my mid to possibly long term future now looking like it does.

Dangerous, dangerous territory. If that WOULD ever happen, it would be like sacrificing the last of the fledgling pride I have left in my life. The aforementioned dagger could change to a huge sword that you’re precariously brandishing toward yourself.

The kind of thing that could quickly be the first step toward total desperation.

And how you might finally find that pit’s bottom.

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.

Back to the title

The title of this blog, that is.

My entries have gotten away from one of the main reasons why I started writing to begin with: the effect that entering middle-age is having on me.

And this has not been a good night.

I see some friends talking about their children entering the same university this fall that I went to. One who was a very good friend there. But that didn’t really cause any problems. Until I combined it with putting on this ambient music mix a little bit ago. The type you would hear in the background at a posh lounge.

Even though that’s never been my atmosphere, it still hit home to think about it. Because it reminds me of youth. Of life. Of energy with people. Of enjoying the world. Of losing yourself in the moment.

All of the things I don’t have anymore, and much that I wasted away when I could’ve had them. When you combine that with having to rebuild every part of your life at 45, then the hopeless feelings just take over again.

Until tonight, I’d been more focused lately on the hope of moving on with some meaning for the future. Now, I can’t shake how unlikely it seems for that to actually happen. When you have to start over from basically the ground up (at this age), there’s just too much to overcome and not enough energy, desire, or years to get it done. In time to matter, anyway.

And out of all the other depressed and damaged people I know, virtually all of them have something to live for. Family, a significant other, friends, or especially their children. As I’ve expressed before, so little of that barely matters at all to me.

It’s much tougher to battle on when there are none of those things to keep you going. All I know is that it’s a good thing I’d never be suicidal, regardless of what happens.

What does all that mean? That I’ll probably just stay trapped.

Locked endlessly in the prison that my own mind and choices have created.

Who’s behind the three doors?

One topic that I’ve never talked about here is my past love life. I say “past” because, given my current state of mind and life situation, it’s not something that I’m focused on at all. That’s been the case for a long time now; my longest relationship was two years, and that was almost 20 years ago (when I was about 25).

But since that time, I have met three people that stood out. You know, the ones where you can both tell that something unusually good might be possible. Though the reason why that’s the case is different for them all. Listed in no particular order (so that you’d have to guess who I think the best chance would theoretically be for something real) 😛 These are all women who I’m still in regular contact with all the time.

Someone I’ve only known for a few years. When we’ve hung out, it just works. In all ways…..seeming like a “couple”, physically, and being very close friends all at the same time. And I currently chat with her more than anyone else. But from the beginning, she has kept her distance for various reasons. And, of course, being who I am, I keep my distance as well. It’s just the second time in my life when someone who makes it clear (and has shown) how much they “like” me keeps me pushed away at the same time. Always an interesting dynamic.

Then, there’s the woman who I’ve spent a total of three hours with in my life since we’ve never lived in the same place (and that was 10 years ago). Yep, she is still on this list. Why? Because for both of us, it was clearly the most electric chemistry that we’ve ever experienced. To the point where we still remember it now. We also share similar views on a lot of things and connect great intellectually. But….we are so, so different. Mixing lifestyles would be a big problem. And to be honest, she can be very difficult to get along with. Being with her would be one of those relationships that always has peaks and valleys. Some love/hate. Would that volatility make the spark even stronger though? I’m not sure, especially since that type of situation has never been my style.

And finally, there’s the friend who’s just like me. The one where it seems like you’ve known her since she was in pigtails (even though it’s been for like the last 15 years), and things have always been just platonic. When she “indulges”, shall we say, I always hear how I am her soulmate. Despite the fact that she’s been in a loveless marriage for many, many years (that’s always a fun snag, eh). She is the wildcard here. Because with the others, I’ve experienced the mutual attraction and physical chemistry. But in this case, I don’t even know if either of us would ever cross that line to find that out. Part of me could see it making sense, but the other part isn’t sure if we’d be feelin’ it. But when you have such a bond with someone, then you can’t help but be curious.

By now you may be wondering “do you think something more serious will ever develop with any of these women? Are you going to find out?” If I’m being honest, the answer is that I doubt it. It’s possible, but you definitely couldn’t count on it. And the main reason why is fairly sad.

Despite all of the differences I’ve mentioned among the three, there is one detail that we all share (including myself):

Being badly damaged. Not from heartbreak, but for so many other reasons.

Broken souls may find each other, but it’s very difficult for them to mesh into something real.

Especially when so much of life is behind you.

Frozen again….but not for the usual reasons

This entry is going to sound selfish. Basically because I’ve spent my non-anonymous life looking out for society in the last few weeks. So, the selfish part of things is ending up here.

Back on March 11, I was about 12 hours away from leaving on a road trip that was the first step in preparing for the next part of life. Then that evening, the NBA suspended the rest of its season. By the following morning, you could already tell that other shutdown dominoes were likely to fall before long. There was no point in going on the trip, because I need to see my target city with its normal everyday life to make the best decisions about my future.

I was expecting to reschedule everything for a couple months later. Not good, but things could’ve been a lot worse.

And then, well, the last 11 days hit us. The “a lot worse” part did happen, and just that fast.

Now the dynamics have changed. If this mess continues for many months (and I have optimistic reasons to think that maybe it won’t, but still)……then beginning a new life again will be much more problematic. Cause while I had timed my plans in just the needed way, there wasn’t a whole lot of wiggle room. Given when my lease runs out, that was largely out of my control.

It wouldn’t have probably mattered, though. Had it not been for the world shutting down.

Now, I don’t know what finding a new 9 to 5 job in the new city will be like, if I choose to go that route. It certainly will be a much worse world to get hired in for quite some time, especially for white collar work. Regardless of when corona has run its course.

And like many people, income and livelihood issues could come into play. Stuff I would’ve had under control, if it weren’t for these unprecedented times. I have my apartment through the end of April, and as that time nears, I’ll take some next steps based on how everything has progressed between now and then.

But until then, life is frozen. And for once, it’s not because of my own issues. Quite surreal.

Not sure which version of time freezing is worse. But neither is healthy for someone, and having to fight two versions of it at once is not fun.

Especially for a depressive loner.

Misery does “not” love company

While I realize how that title cliche…without my adjustment, of course….. partially implies that some unhappy people want others to be miserable too (to feel better about themselves), I have never agreed with the other interpretation that miserable people want to actually be around other miserable ones. IME, those who are unhappy and depressed are more likely to push others away (either directly or indirectly). And personally, I am never comfortable with my issues or any negativity adversely affecting others.

Back when I was doing well in my career, this wasn’t quite as much of a problem. Some of us few people who earn a living at either financial market trading or advantage gambling tend to meet each other eventually at some point. It’s a fairly unique (and very difficult) combination skillset, mindset, and knowledge mix that most don’t possess, and so there’s an underlying respect for anyone who can support themselves that way.

Unless you mess it up, that is.

You see, my friends from that walk of life have not dealt with most of my problems and failures. They may not have the most healthy overall mindset and ways of enjoying their daily existence (even the ones who are married with kids), but at least they are still able to keep their edge. Both careerwise and overall in life.

So when I started to have my worst times in recent years (the ones that, for the first time, I haven’t been able to dig out of), that made the rest of my life worse as well. Beyond anything financially. Not only was there the hurt of losing what I had, but there’s also the shame of being the only failure among my mix of friends and confidants in the trading/advantage gambling world.

I’m not one who spends much time concerned about what others think of me, but this was an exception to that rule. Losing the respect of those uniquely successful people is a hit to your pride. And while only one of them has ever really shown that he thinks less of me now than he did a dozen years ago (and that one, ironically, is by far the least skilled of them all), I know that they’re all thinking it.

How could they not? After all, I am the ONLY one out of that circle who isn’t still a successful person with a better life. The only one who became a screwup. The only one who doesn’t have the freedom to do what he wants anymore.

As you can imagine, that has just fueled my loner tendencies that much more. I barely keep in touch with any of those guys lately. Not only because of the shame and embarrassment, but because I’m not part of their world nearly as much now. They’re the ones still plugging away to make a nice living, while I’m still mostly back at square one.

It’s yet another part of my life that’s worse than it used to be. This downward spiral has taken so, so much.

The only question now is: how much of this lost life can I ever manage to get back?