Tag: sadness

Have yourself a merry little Christmas….

….now?

Guess I shouldn’t be whining about this past weekend. Plenty of other people had no one for the holidays (or else were separated from them), while mom and I had our fourth straight Christmas alone since my father passed away.

I do hope that everyone else enjoyed the day with family and friends. Never want others to have to experience the life emptiness here. Especially this time of year.

But that doesn’t mean that our time is one for even the most unfortunate people above to envy.

We don’t exchange presents. We have no interest in going to see any friends (and this year, didn’t even have the sad get together that we have on most Christmas eves at one of her close friend’s house).

Actually I didn’t even get a single Christmas gift this year (for the first time, I think). Even last year, the lady that cleans her house got me a phone charger for the car. And it meant something, since that was the only present I got last year either.

Didn’t even hear my favorite Christmas song during the season. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas.” So, I decided to play it a few minutes ago. Knowing I’d tear up.

And I did.

Even as I learned something new while looking up a word (turned out to be “bough”) from one of the lyrics: I never even realized that it’s “Have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” For some reason, always thought it was “little Christmas night”.

Yep, I didn’t even know the whole main lyric to my favorite seasonal song. So now I feel sad, empty, AND ridiculous.

January 2nd can’t come soon enough

Is there any way out?

This moment could be the worst that I’ve ever felt about my future. And that’s saying something.

It comes at a time when I’ve actually kept up with the new gym routine. Having a personal trainer hold me accountable is helping the motivation. So there’s a start on fixing my physical being.

But the mental state? I’m about to throw in the towel.

After another horrible night of destructive decisions, I’ve come even moreso to the conclusion that I may never be able to stop ruining my livelihood (if I stay involved with trading and betting). With all the details involved about why I can’t control my behavior, there isn’t much of a path for future success that way, despite how I still have the same skills from when I was doing these things for a living.

Because as I’ve mentioned in the past, the opportunities just aren’t good enough anymore. And without much of a realistic chance to get back my past success at this point, I probably won’t have the patience to attempt moving forward that way to salvage anything on a smaller scale. Which is what leads to pressing way too hard to catch lightning in a bottle……and that has, and will, always ended up making things worse in the end.

So then the question becomes: do I just quit trading and gambling for the first time?

It seems like it might be necessary. But if I do, there are consequences just as dangerous for my well being.

Mainly……I might lose all hope on ever feeling better about myself and my life. Since it will seem like I’ll never redeem myself from everything that’s been lost in the last 15 years.

And if that’s the case, I’ll wake up every day feeling like I ended up as a failure. Without continuing to battle to redeem myself (even if it’s a losing battle), it’s going to be easy to lose all hope about enjoying much about life.

It’s hard enough living a depressed, problematic, empty life with just a shade of that hope. But if feels gone completely? That could take me to even worse places than I’ve ever experienced.

But it might be my only choice.

How much do you need to fix….or really want to?

I’ve had the initial get togethers with both the personal trainer and the retired psychologist that I mentioned in my last entry. Both went about how I thought they would: the trainer seems nice and a good match for the goals I want to accomplish, and the psychologist really didn’t have any insight that helped much. Eh, was worth a shot.

So I’m not sure if I’ll follow up with the latter, but I signed up with the personal training company. Hopefully that will go well…..though based on the timing mentioned in our meeting, I expected to hear from her by now, even with the holiday just ended, about the upcoming week’s plan to get me started out (yet barely have). A bit troubling, but we’ll see how it works out.

All of this has me thinking even deeper about everything though. At the forefront is something I’ve brought up before: the prospect of just not wanting to be happy. As bizarre as it might sound……with the way that I often glamorize the despair and isolation of living a hopeless, empty life, I’m not even sure that I want to change that. Especially at age 48.

But like I said the last time here, I’d still have to fix the issues that lead to me throwing everything away. Thing is, I had assumed that leading a happier life was necessary to do that.

Is it really though? Couldn’t you just retrain your mind to stop sabotaging your life completely? While still managing, but not overcoming, your depression?

Makes me shake my head that I’m even considering the possibility of that route. But if it increases my chances of saving myself overall, it may be the better choice.

It sounds like that quote by Billy Crystal near the end of “When Harry Met Sally”…….when he says something about how he’s fine with his life of comfortable depression.

Will probably be awhile before I figure all this out more. Who knows how long.

For now, I’ll sit here at 1:30 AM and listen to Enigma’s MCMXC a.d. album yet again. And let my mind fade away into the middle of the night….

When your life depends on it

So…..I may finally be about to meet my challenges head on.

While the meeting with my high school mate’s gym manager (and the follow up) did not work out, I’ve set up a consult with another personal trainer tomorrow. And have plans to call a close family friend (retired psychologist) to see if she’d be interested in talking to me for a bit. While I don’t expect her to “fix” much of what’s wrong with me, I’m hoping that she might have some fresh perspective on how to possibly go about taming my demons.

It can’t hurt to give it a try, anyway.

This means that I’m attempting to better myself both physically and psychologically at the same time. Hopefully it won’t be too much to handle at once, but it’s tough to imagine improving much without both parts going hand-in-hand. One has to support the other along the way.

That being said: I am still very concerned about the viability of any such journey’s chances for much success. I’ve read so much about the limitations that human beings have in permanently making these types of changes. Especially when depression is at the forefront. And I’ll have to find a lot of mental strength and willpower that I’ve never had before. So, a student of the odds such as myself knows what I’m up against.

But there’s one thing that I have in my favor. And while it might be necessary to even have a chance to buck the long odds, it’s scary as hell at the same time:

My life depends on it.

Yes that sounds quite theatrical. And likely overstated. But I promise you, it’s not. I’ve mentioned in a prior entry about how I’ll eventually lose everything down the road if I continue this way. The timeline for that would likely be about 10 to 15 years from now.

Which means that I have two choices. Either find the strength to change my life (even if it’s virtually impossible), or end up as a derelict on the street as I hit 60 years old. Needless to say, that would not be an enjoyable way to fade into the darkness.

How far will that dire motivation go in shaping what happens from now on? Guess I’ll find out as I go. And as mentioned above, that first page of the new book is tomorrow.

We’ll see what gets written from here.

The remnants of past success and hope

Even after all these years, a few of them still remain here and there in this apartment that still looks like someone is either moving in or moving out. Furniture that I bought when I moved to Southern California in 2005 (with success in my hands and the life that I wanted within reach).

If only my then 30 year old hands would’ve had the capability to grasp it.

When you look at what’s left here from that time, most would see some nice items that have held up fairly well. A quality glass dining room table and the four chairs that go with it (not that anyone else ever sits in the extra ones). A California king bed. The dresser and nightstand that came with it. Even the TV stand that I never replaced after the wrong one was brought in.

But what do I see? Just a glimpse of everything else I used to have. The younger (though still highly troubled) person that I used to be. But still a time when I didn’t wake up every morning being ashamed of who I am and the life I’ve led for so long now.

It’s also a reminder of how bleak my future likely is. Especially since I really doubt that I can be fixed at some point.

I mentioned in a prior entry that if I don’t tame my demons, I will lose everything down the road. That wouldn’t happen until I’m in my 50s or 60s for various reasons, so it could be awhile. But it’s inevitable unless I do.

Are we talking 5 years from now? 15? Who knows. It’s like an ominous clock ticking on my likely eventual Leaving Las Vegas type ending, but without a very specific time table yet.

Not to mention that I’m also at this new crossroads since I recently moved back close to my hometown that has few good answers. I’m not stable enough and may not have enough long-term profitable opportunities to work for myself again at the moment, but I don’t make a good 9 to 5 employee either (since, among other reasons, I’m spoiled by a lot of longtime career freedom and don’t have the usual number of years of traditional work experience).

So…..I just wait. Waking up every day with little direction. Hoping to get through the day without destroying my finances and everything else even worse (though there’s still a steady decline). Just wanting to get to these late hours and the escapism that comes with them.

Wishing the next morning wouldn’t come.

The next stage

After a year living in my “target” city, I’ve now moved back across the country again (to help out with family matters). Found an apartment and will get moved in this week. It’s 30 minutes from the family’s house, which is close enough to always be easily available and make this major relocation worth it….while still giving the space that I really need.

Everyone keeps telling me not to think back or torture myself about leaving my old place again. But obviously that’s much easier said than done. At age 47, every year spent away from “home” is going to feel like one that I can’t afford to lose. And it could be many years before I can go back for good.

I’ll try to help my state of mind by making one or two long trips back per year. It won’t be nearly the same, but at least that will make the transition easier.

Still though….I’m concerned about how I’m going to react to this in the long run. It hasn’t hit me completely yet, but it will once I get completely settled in to the new apartment. A depressed person with little structure in life (living in an area that has too many toxic components) isn’t exactly in the best spot to improve and enjoy his situation.

So I’m not sure if I will be able to make the most of this. Or even avoid a much worse downward spiral.

Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Depression and therapy….a still deeper look

This evening I watched a one-hour lecture on youtube by a leading clinical psychologist and depression expert called “how to recover from depression”. At least they got right to the point with that title, eh?

Here are my conclusions from it and how they relate (or, should I say, DON’T relate) much to my situation.

When it comes to making breakthroughs with someone’s depression, it was clear that this psychologist, who has been in the field for 40 years, is used to having to focus on these two factors:

People are often very poor at critical thinking and staying logical. It’s kind of sad how limited many are at those skills, and how often it keeps them stuck in a world of unrealistic and inaccurate feelings and thoughts.

And, lack of awareness. Naturally that one is even more exaggerated with those who are the most self-obsessed. Not just a lack of awareness of themselves, but also of the world around them.

So when you combine those variables, poor decision-making and focus obviously gets pretty severe. Especially when you factor in the negative emotions and moods involved with depression. And when it comes to therapy, basically they need to be taught practically everything about what’s going on and how to attempt improving themselves.

How does this compare to my own battle with depression then? Unfortunately, not too much.

Why? Because while my own demons and faults are naturally also quite lengthy, those factors above are two of my biggest strengths instead.

My main issues, as I’ve noted in this blog at times, are (going to greatly summarize here): willpower, caring enough about life, and subconsciously avoiding being happy on a regular basis.

And in the full hour that he spoke, guess how often he brings any of that up?

Yep. Not once.

This reinforces most of what I’ve learned and experienced before about this topic. Most therapists’ comfort zone is figuring out your issues, teaching you more about yourself, and recommending steps to solve the problems.

But what they don’t spend nearly enough time on is: how do you muster the energy and willpower to consistently DO what you should? I know that’s a lot tougher task than setting up the basics, but that doesn’t mean it should play second fiddle like it usually does.

Especially for someone in my situation.

And as far as that goes, I should also add that in addition to realistic analysis and awareness being some of my greatest strengths, you can also throw in how the lifelong work (in my very unusual career fields) goes back and forth between functioning as a career and a degenerative addiction. Hint: it has little to do with simply being addicted to your work. There’s another deeper and complicated level to it; one that I won’t belabor now.

While I’m sure they encounter the former occasionally, good luck finding someone who’s ever dealt with the unique career/problematic addiction combo.

Sooooo when you put it all together, you can see how after just one session learning my life story, situation, and strengths/weaknesses, every therapist I’ve ever tried is caught way off guard (and totally lost about what it all means and how to proceed).

And when that happens, I wish I could just scream “Don’t worry about it! I’ve already got most of the problems and probable solutions figured out. I just need to learn more about what actions to take for what’s holding me back (willpower, happiness, etc)”.

But that’s not how they seem to work. Of course they have their usual plan and procedures for giving their therapy. And it’d be completely unfair for them to have to deviate much from those. So I totally understand and accept why they don’t want to get so far out of their comfort zone.

Unfortunately though, it leaves me right back in my usual spot: having to tackle all of this on my own.

And regardless of how much you can figure out (and how much of a loner we are), everyone needs some support to dig out of a depressive hole this deep.

Which is just not there.

Family and stability (or lack thereof)

Been thinking some lately about how the absence of having people close in my life (especially family) has evolved over the years. And how that’s going to affect my future at this stage in life.

I grew up with mom’s side of the family; dad’s side lived two hours away and we never really meshed much. Lots of only children on that half of the family tree (including myself), so it was just dad, mom, her parents, and her aunt.

Starting with my teen years, naturally you start losing your older family members one by one. First my maternal grandfather, then her aunt and her mother. As you can imagine, that made things a good bit different.

Then about 15 years went by before I started to lose my dad’s side. Even though I wasn’t that close to them (other than my father), it still has some effect. In just a few years (during my early to mid 40s), my grandfather, father, and grandmother all passed too.

So now, at 47, my mother is all who’s left. I’m single with no kids, no siblings, and just an aunt and uncle (dad’s brother and sister) who don’t even know me that well.

Basically it’s just mom now.

And despite how many things about her are toxic and drive me crazy (and the fact that I’m so emotionally distant from the whole world), she provides one thing for me who no one else can at this point: stability. Having her constant involvement in my life keeps me and my volatile choices somewhat in check. Not entirely by ANY means, but enough to really help. That help doesn’t come from much direct involvement; it’s more about wanting to avoid the shame of her seeing me destroy myself too much (and also how that would affect her). All that matters is that it works, though.

But as you can imagine, this makes my longer-term future even more precarious that it would be otherwise (given my life situation). Because once she is gone, the main barrier that keeps me from more severe life lows will vanish. Obviously that is very concerning.

Especially since I still never find the willpower (or care enough) to try and improve myself and tame any of my demons. And I don’t know if that will ever change.

What IS known is the consequences if it doesn’t.

Rush, rush

“I wanna see…..I wanna see you get free with me”

It was the summer of 1991, and I was fortunate enough to be on a Carnival cruise (family vacation). At the back of the ship’s nightclub with some other teenagers that I’d met a few days prior. We shouldn’t have even been in there, but the DJ had been generous enough to let us use that back area of the dance floor each night.

And we took full advantage. I still remember being locked in a slow dance with a girl named Jenny (as Paula Abdul sung her great new ballad that was being heard everywhere). The girl I would soon have my first kiss later that night.

I was 16 years old. My whole life was in front of me.

While the “and without a care in the world” cliche doesn’t apply (I never had that kind of easy and happy teenage life, other than rare escapes like that cruise)…..the one that does is how the future still seemed bright.

Never did I ever guess that I’d be typing this kind of blog entry 30 years later. Especially in this frame of mind about myself and the much more depressive and troubling life situation and future than I ever could’ve expected.

Not to mention off the heels of a huge pandemic scare a couple years ago, and fresh into a new huge worldwide conflict scare just a couple hours ago.

So now that I’ve brought back the Paula memory, it might be time to channel another popular ’80s artist next. Mr. Eddie Money.

“I wanna go back and do it all over. But I can’t go back, I know.

I wanna go back. Cause I’m feelin’ so much older.

But I can’t go back, I know”

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.