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Consumption

I feel like I have nothing to say. My life feels empty and vapid.  The only way I know how to deal with this feeling is by causing chaos and destruction.

Once I start to destroy my life thoroughly enough, I start to feel real pain.  From that pain, I start to question my life and the direction I’m heading.  I start to wonder about the principles my life is based on and what existence really is.  Then I start to feel creativity and my voice returns.

I don’t know how to speak up when life is going well for me.  I need to fuck things up in order to fight my way back.  Maybe that’s the definition of a true loser; not being able to accept you’ve already won so you push yourself further into a game you don’t actually want to play.  I don’t want to live a life based on materialism by keeping score on someone else scorecard.  I’ll never live a fulfilling, satisfying life using those measurements and metrics.

I look at how I do everything in life and it’s simply consumption.  I rarely enjoy all the wonderful things life offers.  Instead of experiencing them, I devour them, looking to move onto whatever is next.  I do this with food, sex, money, people.

When I’m inhaling a delicious meal in less then 5 minutes, I’m not savoring every bite, allowing myself to feel full.  Instead I feel hungry for more.  That’s emptiness in its purest form.  I miss out on all the delicious flavors life offer when I don’t to slow down and actually taste them.  That behavior creates a life lacking beauty and fulfillment.  It’s dark and meaningless.  It’s a life based on fear instead of love.

Even as I’m writing this, my mind can’t help itself from rushing me to finish.  What’s next is always on my mind.  There’s never contentment, only ambition.  Maybe that’s why I choose the path of numbing myself with vices.  Those moments keep me from thinking too much, at least for a little while.  The first hit, first kiss, first bite of something decadent; those are the times when I’m present.  It doesn’t last very long, but in those moments life seems worth living.  There is some sense of meaning and more so a sense of appreciation for being alive.  The irony is the aftermath of my actions leaves me feeling worse with my mind racing faster than ever.

I want to slow things down and return to real life so I can shut my mind off and “just be” for a while.  I enjoy life more when I’m actually living it.  Enjoying simple pleasures like going on walks and hiking with my dog.  Having real conversations with others and actually listening for once in my life instead of waiting to speak or looking at my phone.

It’s may seem obvious to most people, but I never understood how amazing the real world is.  I’m from the video game generation, I’ve always needed action and excitement.  Something above and beyond needed to happen in order for me to enjoy myself.  I never understood how unsustainable that was.  If others can find a way to make that a work, I salute them.

Consumption leads to a life akin to being a hamster on a wheel.  Pushing harder and harder to stay in the same place spiritually. Contentment and joy can’t live in that space.  Life will never be fulfilling when you always expect fireworks.  Life can be boring and tedious.  Being able to find magic in the monotony of life is where contentment lives.

We’re all running a race with only one ending, death.  If you can’t find joy in something so temporary, why play the game at all.  Eventually there will be no “what’s next.”  Breath into the painful moments and sink into the moments that are joyous.  Stay in the joy and don’t consume it all at once.  Enjoy the flavors, because before long, they will be gone.

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Information overload.

The idea of a person searching for their soul mate is a relatively new idea.  Sixty years ago, people married because it was the social norm.  When looking for a partner, people often approached it from a social and economic perspective.  Will this person be able to give me children to work my farm? Will they be able to be the breadwinner and support a family?

People didn’t necessarily need to fall madly in love and have a laundry list of things they needed checked off  in order to find a suitable partner.  Many people started off with a partner they felt lukewarm about and worked hard to cultivate love in their marriage.  It wasn’t totally shocking to see a couple married for 30-40 years like it is today.

Now everyone wants a storybook romance that would sell out every movie theater in the country.  We have impossibly high standards that few of us could ever live up to.  We don’t necessarily want to be perfect ourselves, but we certainly want the people we date to be.

I’m part of this problem.  I’m one of the assholes out their in the world straight fucking up how people view relationships for generations to come.  The thought of settling for anything less than perfect person seems intolerable.

Thinking about the concept of finding a soul mate and the “perfect person” made me curious.   Did people always look for this deep-level of fulfillment, meaning and purpose in other aspects of their lives?  What about in their careers?   Is the idea of “do what you love and you will find your purpose in life” a new thing?

Where did all this searching for purpose in life come from?  Is it something brought about by motivational speakers and bad movies?  Do we search for deeper meaning because it’s what society tells us has value?  Or is it something that transcends time and is worth spending our life trying to figure out?

We’re flooded with ideas of how life it supposed to be and when we compare that to our reality, we become dissatisfied and feel less than.  We have access to so much knowledge, and even more so, the opinion of others who we think know what the fuck they’re talking about, that we get confused and aren’t sure how to process it all.

We’ve become lost in emotions and fluffy bullshit, so we create stories to make life match up with our fantasies.  We want the fairy tale and the Ferrari to match.  We don’t want to work 60 hours a week, make 50 grand a year and take our kids to eat at fucking Applebee’s. (more…)

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The gift of experience

I’ve been handed many gifts in my life.  Amazing opportunities to help others through my own personal experience.  I’ve been giving the gifts of Tourettes, addiction, cancer, and depression just to name a few.  I didn’t always have this perspective.  As a matter of fact, I only came to realize these as gifts a few days ago.

Each one of these gifts has shaped me through adversity and allowed to share my experience in hopes of helping others who may be going through similar situations.  I felt alone with my battles.  But millions of people are going through what I am / have.  I’m not special or isolated, I’m in a sea of people.  I just never had the courage to open up and look for them.

For some reason, I was laying on my couch thinking about leaving rehab 8 years ago.  I remembered one of the counselors telling me “I wish you weren’t leaving this area, you could do a lot of good for others here.”  It was nice to hear, but I didn’t put any really credence into it.  How could I, a guy who had 60 days clean do anything for anyone?

I’ve never felt I have had much to offer.  I’ve rarely felt that I was good enough to deliver value to anyone.  I mean, Look at my life.  I’m 37, single, horrible at relationships, still partying too much and struggling to make it through basic adult life.  What could I possible offer anyone? .

I’ve come to the realization that I can offer experience.  Not advice, but experience.  There’s value in sharing the things we’ve been through that help others feel not so alone.  Hopefully it will encourage more people to share their experience and help those around them.

I’m certain that each one of us has something worth sharing that will benefit someone else’s life.  It’s called being of service.  That’s really what life is about.  It’s easy to find meaning and fulfillment by being of service to those around you.  Everything else in life is just extra.

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I Make Poor Choices

She fucking did to me again.  I can’t believe she lied this time.  Actually, I did it to myself, I know what I’m getting into.  I know how she struggles with telling the truth.  I really should only blame myself.

My ex and I started talking after an 8 month hiatus.  Long story short, we hung out last weekend.  Anyone who know us can tell exactly where this story is headed.  It’s always the same.  One or both of us fucks up and everything falls apart.  It all ends in tears or anger and everyone’s sad.  Wah boo hoo

She lied about fucking someone of course. I don’t even care she fucked someone else, I care she lied.  Yes, it’s none of my business because I’ve been sleeping with other people.  But, I asked her flat out and she lied to my face.  She could have told me the truth or chose to decline to answer.  Instead, she lied.

Now I’m annoyed at her and want to walk away.  But there is a part of me that I wants to be spiteful and get back at her.  But why?  I’ll be the one who ends up feeling like a dick and having to deal with the consequences of my actions.  Cleaning up the wreckage of using someone as a pawn to hurt her.  It’s childish, stupid and makes me want to slap myself.  But that’s where my brain still wants to go by default.

Einstein never actually said ” The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results,'” but whoever did was absolutely right.  I want her to change and be the person she used to be.  I know that’s wrong and I shouldn’t want to change her, but I do.  I want her to be better and hold me accountable to be better as well.  But my fantasy is far from reality.

I act like I’m her father-figure, telling her how she should be living her life.  Meanwhile I’m a hypocrite who keeps making shitty choices in my own life.  My need to control is one of my biggest character flaws and the reason many of my relationships fail.

I want to be a family with her and her son.  Being with them was the only time I ever felt connected to a family unit.  I cling to that feeling.  Occasionally I let it go, but somehow it brings me back.  I’m stuck in a loop. A loop of my doing.

Choices and actions dictate life.  Making shitty choices gets you stuck in a loop chasing your dick around like a toddler just hoping life will get better.  Making difficult, positive choices can feel uncomfortable and won’t guarantee your life will become everything you’ve ever imagined, but it’s an opportunity to get out of the vicious loop of insanity.  I’ve said it before, life boils down to three things: Action, choices and chances.  The more action you take, the better choices you make, the more chances you get at living the life you want.

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Bound up

I’m mentally constipated.  I feel like I have nothing to say at all.  I’m procrastinating from writing so often that my wrist is sore from jacking off so much.  That’s my go-to when I want to procrastinate.

I want to fire up my favorite site and have at it instead of trying to get some coherent words out of my head and onto paper.  It’s almost painful to write.  An uneasy feeling creeps up inside of me as soon as I start.  It reminds me of the anxiety I feel when I’m withdrawing from drugs.

My feet and legs are restless.  My ass checks clench tight.  I’m grinding my teeth until my jaw gets sore.  All because I feel the need to write.

Just knowing I feel this way makes me realize how badly I need to write.  No amount of reading, working out or jerking off can ever cleanse my mind the way writing can.  I need to bleed onto the page and purge my soul in order to get right. That’s the fix I need.

Writing is the one thing that’s truly mine.  My thoughts from my fucked up mind.  The more often I write, the less anxiety I feel. I feel lighter without my thoughts weighing me down and running wild in my psyche.

When I write to inspire, I feel inspired.  I feel obligated to practice the actions I preach.  I don’t want to be another hypocrite tauting some bullshit I don’t believe in.  Although, I have and will continue to contradict myself, that’s an unfortunate part of life.

I have to focus on momentum going in the right direction. What muse is calling me to write today and what will I produce?  Being creative makes life appealing.  Birthing something which only existed in my mind and giving it life with words is what I crave to do.

Then why do it fight it?  Why is it so hard to capture my ideas and present them for myself and others too see.  There is no pressure from anywhere other than from within.  Relax and release that tension.  Let the words flow.  Then I can create peace.

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Sauna Thoughts

Kid Rock’s American Bad Ass is blaring in my headphones as I sweat uncontrollably in the sauna after my morning cardio session.  Yes, I’m a little ashamed to admit I’m listening to Kid Rock.  But I’m white trash and it worked this morning.

I have a full day ahead of me.  The choice is mine to either use it to its’ fullest, or let it pass me by.  To quote Kid Rock “I’m gonna fuck some hoes after I rock this place;” metaphorically speaking of course.  That’s how I want to spend my day.  Being present and appreciating that every day I’m above ground is a gift.

It’s easy to take life for granted when we all wake up with our anxiety and our problems.  They don’t disappear when we fall asleep.  They are right there waiting for us in the morning.

If we don’t have anything to be anxious about, our minds are very creative and can easily whip something up for us to stress about. We aren’t like our ancestors who woke up with real problems, worrying about getting eaten by a lion or some shit.  But we can certainly stress over driving to work in traffic or struggle over the existential question, “why am I here.”  I seem to focus on the latter quite often, and not in a healthy, introspective way.  Instead I put pressure on myself to do something great or my life is meaningless.  That’s always a fun conversation in my head.

It’s all bullshit to some extent.  Life is what you choose it to be.  I’m jealous of others who don’t search for meaning and do whatever their primal instincts feel in that moment.  It doesn’t seem like the the best long term solution, but it seems like a shitload of fun.

Life can have meaning to you or it can be a rat race devoid of any substance until you pass on and your matter floats back into the universe.  I’m not certain one choice is better than the other.  It’s simply perspective.

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August 6th, 2017

I can’t sleep, my concentration sucks and my balls hurt.  I’m closing out the first week of an experiment – masturbating only once per week and no porn.

I’ve gone a week without masturbating before and it wasn’t an issue.  However, it wasn’t a goal I set out to accomplish.  Since this was a conscious choice and an experiment, my mind wants to create conflict.  It’s the pleasure principle, seek out pleasure while avoiding discomfort and pain.

I decided to try this experiment because I struggle with intimacy and sex.  I don’t feel a connection with my partners.  I’m desensitized from years of causal sex with multiple partners, porn and masturbation.

I place very little value on sex, so it no longer feels exciting and special.   It feels commonplace and mundane, like folding laundry.  But it strokes my ego and makes me feel like a man, a conqueror.

Sex seems like a great idea during the pursuit, but when the physical act occurs, I’m in my head thinking about everything else but sex.  I’m hoping whoever “she” is this time, will leave immediately afterwards so I can be alone.

It hasn’t always felt this way.  There have been certain people I genuinely loved and felt a deep connection with them.  That’s when sex is magical and feels wonderfully intense on more than a physical level.  It’s been quite some time since I felt that, but I’m getting off track.

I’m hoping by learning to control my sexual urges, like masturbation, I can create a renewed sense of excitement around sex.  I believe if I can make sexual relief a scarce resource,  it will feel more valuable to me.  This is my attempt to rewire my brain sexually in order to develop a deep appreciate and connection.

Since I started this experiment I have not been able to sleep well.  When I finally fall asleep, I wake up every two hours and struggle to fall back asleep.  I’m averaging maybe 4 hours of sleep a night.  It’s effecting my physical appearance and energy.  I’m very tired but my mind won’t let me sleep. I’m on edge.

When I lay down in bed and close my eyes, my OCD kicks in with sexual fantasies, which are very difficult to stop.  The fantasies are exciting and feel good to think about.  But they are still ruminations and that’s a problem.  I feel like a junkie needing his fix, obsessing over his drug of choice.

Physically, I’ve noticed an increase in lower belly fat and an overall softer appearance to my body.  My physical strength in the gym has decreased and I struggle to finish my workouts.  Increased cortisol from lack of sleep could be the cause.

As I’m writing this all I can think about is how bad I want to masturbate so I can feel better.  I can’t believe how difficult this has been.  I’m jammed up mentally and physically.  I’ve blue balled myself, I didn’t realize that was possible.

All of these symptoms could be totally psychosomatic.  My urges to masturbate are now driven by my belief that as soon as I do, my body will return to homeostasis. My balls won’t hurt, I’ll be able to sleep, my physical strength and appearance will come back and my mental clarity will return.

The positive side effects of this experiment have come in the form of increased output and productivity.  Even though I’ve been exhausted from lack of sleep, I’ve started accomplishing more during my day.  I’ve gotten back to writing daily, reading, learning and applying more.  I’m more focused at work and my sales have increased. (more…)

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How I Got Here – Gains vs Loses

I lost it all. At least that’s how I felt.  No more steady high dollar income, no more life of crime, no more single life and no more steroids.

My life changed drastically 4 years ago. Some of the changes were voluntary, while others were forced upon me. Instead of appreciating what I would gain in my new life, I could only focus on what I no longer had.

My ex-girlfriend and I were moving in together to start a life as a family with her son. He was 3 at the time and I wasn’t going to allow him to be raised around a man who was selling drugs. He deserved better than that.  So I quit my lucrative profession of choice for the last 20 years and I had no idea what I was going to do.

Luckily, I had saved up a nice nest egg to make sure we would be well taken care of for a couple years. However, I totally lost perspective of that.  All I could think about was what in the hell was I going to do now.

I was lost and I certainly didn’t have the work ethic to go work for someone else. My ego told me that was beneath me.  I was an entrepreneur, so I had to figure out a way to be my own boss. It’s amazing what ego and arrogance can lead you to believe.

I was forced to give up using steroids because a scan found pool ball sized tumors on my liver. The doctors told me they were liver adenomas from using steroids and I had to quit using immediately. Two years later I found out they were cancerous and had be removed, but that’s a story for another time.

I had been using steroids off and on for the last 10 years. The last 2-3 years I used them continuously.  I was obsessed with how I looked and how “big” my muscles were. If I had to rank the importance in my life, it was in the top 3 things I cared about most.

Without steroids my muscles quickly diminished and my clothes no longer fit like they once did.  I would put on a shirt I used to love and have a meltdown complaining about how it used to fit.  I lost 15 pounds in a couple weeks. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without clothes on. (more…)

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Need a Spot Bro?

You’d think hearing the words “they all just want to suck your dick” would be greatest thing anyone has ever said to you.  But not on this day.

I was 26 at the time and started working out at a new gym in Philly.  I quickly became friends with a bunch of guys there.  One guy in particular, I would see almost daily.  We would bullshit every time I saw him and we became close (Fast forward a couple years later and he would actually save my life).

I remember he was supposed to meet me and some friends at a bar one night, but had to bail. I told him “that was gay” and he should “stop being a fag”.  That’s how I talked to my guy friends at 26. Sometimes I still talk to them that way, I’m a heathen and a relic, I know.

Eventually he asked me to stop calling him gay and fag. I laughed thinking he was being overly sensitive.  A few weeks later I found out he actually was gay. I was very surprised at first, but got over it quickly.  He was actually more shocked when I figured it out and asked him about It. He wanted to know who told me and he danced around the issue at first.  I didn’t give a fuck, he was my friend.  See how accepting I am?

I never spent too much time around gay people before, so unless it was blatantly obvious, I was oblivious to the fact.  As he got more comfortable with me knowing his sexual orientation he introduced me to all kinds of fun new phrases like big chaser and power bottom.

Finally one day he let me in on a little secret. Almost all of the Guys I was friendly with at my gym were gay too.  Then proceeded to tell me they weren’t my friends but they were interested in me.  He could have been fucking with me to see me reaction, but I felt sad.  All this time I thought I was making friends, it turns out they wanted to have sex with me.

I was so confused, and a little hurt I suppose.  I guess I found of what it was like to be a woman for once in my life.  Thinking all of these people were nice to you because their your friend, when really they just wanted your ass.

I’m not the type of straight guy who thinks all gay men want him or anything ridiculous and delusional like that.  I’m not that much of a troglodyte.  I’m secure in who I am and realize most people understand boundaries if you set them correctly.  But I found out how naive and ignorant I was to the world around me.  Guess I probably still am.

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200 Word Free Flow

I just had my 2 year check up and I’m cancer free!  I graduated from scans and checks ups every 3 months to now every 6 months.  It’s a great day and you would think I’d be the happiest man on the planet.  I am happy, but at the same time don’t feel as grateful as I should.

My mind likes to play out horrible situations where the cancer comes back and I have to fight for my life.  I don’t know how to accept peace into my life, only chaos.  I don’t feel comfortable in a state of homeostasis.  I understand chaos and pain.  If I don’t have a crisis, I’m not sure how to act.

I’m lost in my head.  Am I overthinking all of this?  Am I supposed to spend my day being an overachiever because I received great news?  Who makes these rules and why am I so worried about following them?

I don’t know who I am or what I want.  I never had a passion to follow in my life that I recall.  Maybe health and fitness.  I saw the trend 15 years ago but didn’t follow my heart because I didn’t see the immediate financial rewards.  Today, the industry is so crowded and I’m even more concerned about money and material things.  How can I waste my life never chasing passion?  Fuck, I want to scream.

The heat from the sauna is starting to bother me.  The sweat dripping off my forehead onto my screen is making typing difficult.  I want to say fuck it.  Here’s my 200 words.  I’m done for the day.  You happy brain.