Self-Discovery Sucks

You, you never realized
What I could do
Stars in your eyes
You made it true
While looking at the sky
You were searching for something better
When that better was right in front of you
-- Lost Immigrants, “Something Better”

Journeys of self-discovery suck.  You’ve basically got two options.  You can have a “journey” to discover something that you want to discover, anyway, at which point you’ve just wasted everyone’s time and are a dishonest fucknugget.  Or you can approach them honestly and discover a truth or four.  Those discoveries, however, will usually come at an inconvenient time and force some sort of response that requires effort and change.

They then tend to be really hard to explain, especially when you don’t actually want to.

I have learned, however, that when I don’t want to do something, like, really don’t want to do it, then it’s probably the most necessary thing in the world for me to do.  So I suppose I must try.  Perhaps with enough words I can muddy my self-discovery enough to safely ignore the various implications.

One of my unacknowledged reasons for keeping Her in a prominent place in my headspace was also one of my most self-serving.  I always claimed that it was all about reflecting on the religion left behind and whatnot.  It was far more useful to me to keep her around, however, because I needed a villain.  She made a fantastic villain.  I could explain away any number of my unsavory or self-defeating actions with a, “I did it in response to her and she’s kind of a bitch.”

I’m not going to say that she’s wasn’t kind of a bitch.  I have a great deal of independent confirmation that, yeah, I could say that she’s kind of a bitch and get away with it just fine.  Some people are just plain mean.  Some people are capable of going to default meanness when pushed hard enough or it suits their purposes.  It’s human nature.[1]

I tried very carefully to avoid one of the undercurrents of the whole “Her-as-bad-guy” aspect of my mental image of her.  There were an awful lot of things I did and said that reminded me of her.  I’m not talking about things like, “I told a joke and realized that it was a joke I said with her.”  I mean that there were (and are) aspects of my personality and/or treatment of others that remind me of aspects of her personality and/or treatment of others.  If she’s the “bad guy,” then, it stands to reason that there are actually two “bad guys” in this narrative and I’m one of them.  Or, worse, it stands to reason that there’s only really one “bad guy” and I am the sole proprietor of that particular role.

Like I said, journeys of self-discovery are a bitch.

She, for instance, tended to take a relatively dim view of humanity.  I liked to claim that I took an opposing viewpoint, but there are a lot of times when I say I don’t like people.  I eventually reached an uneasy compromise with the little voice in the back of my head that likes to point out the hypocrisy by replacing a standard, “I don’t like people,” with the compromise position, “I like people, I just don’t like being around them.”

I also rather uncharitably (which doesn’t mean I was wrong, it just means that I was uncharitable in my assessment, if that makes any sense[2]) accused her of pushing people away in order to facilitate an unnecessary abandonment complex, thereby justifying further withdrawal from people.  This, as it turns out, is pretty much my biggest flaw.  I do my level-headed best to convince people that I am an asshole and better left alone so that I’m primed to be left behind by people who decide I’m an asshole.[3]

I accused her of purposely sitting on the sidelines of life and thinking rather than doing, of complaining rather than changing.  As it turns out, that’s pretty much what I do all the fucking time.  Texas was a year and a half of bitching and making excuses for not changing my circumstances.  The year and a half before that was the same thing.  And I didn’t even have Texas as an excuse.  I just had a generalized, “My life sucks and I’m not happy.  Mwah!” going on.

So, basically, I’m an entitled brat.  I make sure that I’m alone and push people away to avoid having to deal with the possibility of them leaving.  And I project that shit on to an ex who may or may not be the things I accuse her of but who should have abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with my life anymore.  That’s pretty awkward and self-defeating.

In this I can say that I absolutely agree with the central premise of the book Night of the Living Dead Christian.  What I am as a human being can be allegorized within the context of a monster story or two.  But that’s the origin of the monster story, anyway.  We invent gods and demons and monsters and angels as anthropomorphic beings that reflect and amplify a specific aspect of human nature or behavior.  It’s not like Matt Mikalatos was breaking new ground with his book.[4]

While we may agree on the diagnosis, I see no reason to agree on the cure.  I see no reason to include a third party in my self-assessment outside of the possibility of a friend to be honest with me or a counselor to do the same but for an hourly fee.[5]  If I’ve wronged someone I need to apologize to them and try to make amends.  Invoking a third party or apologizing to a third party[6] instead simply doesn’t do a damn thing.

Moreover, the big problem with the whole salvation thing is that it requires an admission, which can be either explicit or implicit, of powerlessness.[7]  For the majority of problems humans bring upon themselves, admitting powerlessness to stop doing it is the worst possible approach.[8]  Admitting that there’s a problem that must be dealt with and taking personal responsibility (within reason, of course.  There are some things that are beyond any given individual’s control) is the only way to approach something that needs to be fixed.

So what am I going to do about the lessons of my little journey of self-discovery?

I’ve been gradually realizing these things since moving back and attempting to take appropriate steps.  Not being a gratuitous asshole seems like a good first step.  Avoiding the easy attempts to fish for compliments was also a good resolution.  I’ve been actively trying to believe that people really do like and respect me, no matter how unwilling I am to buy that notion.

Mostly, though, it’s all about making active choices to do the nice and helpful thing and not the knee-jerk asshole thing and believe that if I’ve chosen the people I associate with correctly I will be repaid and won’t have to worry about the day they leave.  All of that starts with a realization and a choice.  I don’t always get it right, but I do get a lot of practice.  It ultimately comes down to an act of faith, but the faith I place is in myself and the people around me.  No Jesus is necessary.

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[1]It occurs to me, too, that while this particular post comes in place of a theoretical Part 4 to my review of Night of the Living Dead Christian, it also fits in perfectly as a mid-point to that particular series, in that this post can easily be seen as my rebuttal to the central thesis of the book.  Which, I suppose, makes sense, since it is actually very much thematically linked.  In fact, I think I’ll probably make that explicit somewhere in the body text.

[2]And if it does, please explain what I just said to me in the comments.

[3]I should point out, too, that variations of this work for compliment-fishing-expeditions.  As in, “I’m an asshole.”  “No, you’re a nice guy.”  “Well, thanks, but you’re apparently pretty non-observant.  See, right there, asshole.  Bam!”

Of course that sample exchange is actually second-level asshole-ness.  So there’s that.

[4]Sorry to be the bearer of bad news on that one.

[5]Or a blog audience.  Writing, after all, is my therapy.  It’s cheaper than the counseling option, too.

[6]Especially in the way a lot of Christians I knew (was, sometimes) did so, wherein they apologized to god for their transgressions without actually apologizing to the people they’d wronged.  At that point the act of apology is nothing more than selfishness.  And I’m not saying this is Christian doctrine or a specifically Christian dodge.  I’m pretty sure there are a few places where the Bible frowns on exactly that.  But there are a lot of things that the Bible says that people who claim to follow it ignore.

[7]While I’ve made a few uncharitable interpretations of Mikalatos’s conclusions in his book, I don’t think I’m going too far out on a limb by saying that his big conversion scene hinges on an admission of powerlessness.

[8]I find that focusing all my energy on the thing to be avoided forces me to think about that thing, which forces me to want it.  For instance, I was the fat kid and I always used that as an excuse.  A few years ago I said, “Fuck it, I’m tired of this.”  I proceeded to drop 110 pounds of the course of nine months, which was both insane and counterproductive.  I obsessively worked out and counted calories, all the while fantasizing about all the food I would be able to eat again once I got to my goal weight.  I never actually hit my goal weight, but decided, “Eh, this is good enough,” one day and proceeded to stop working out or paying attention to what I was eating.  I gained about forty or fifty pounds back, then stabilized when She was around.  After that ended I ate and drank a lot and added on another thirty or so, and ultimately ended up within 20 pounds of where I started.

I regarded food as an addiction and myself as being powerless against it.  So when I started to gain weight back I ignored the evidence out of shame and denied it was happening.  Eventually I denied myself right back to where I started.  Kinda.

Then in September of 2009 I said, “Fuck this, I have to fix it again.”  I proceeded to lose 110 pounds yet again, but this time between September of 2009 and April of 2011.  The first time around I was pissed if I didn’t see the numbers on the scale drop every day.  The second time around I was okay if I lost a pound or two over the course of a month because I’d decided that the entire purpose of my life wasn’t to be not-fat, but to be healthy and the only way to achieve healthiness was to get in shape but also enjoy the journey.  So if I wanted ribs I ate ribs.  If I wanted cake I ate cake.  And when I didn’t want ribs or cake I ate in a fairly regimented and predictable way that still included food I enjoyed but in moderation.

I’ve put a few pounds back on since moving back to Chicago.  My eating schedule totally broke down and, holy shit there’s a lot of places to eat in downtown Chicago.  I pretty much made it my unstated goal to eat at all of them in my first month working in the Loop.  And then I still stepped on the scale and forced myself to acknowledge that, yeah, that wasn’t working out too well for me in the body mass category.  So when I got tired of overeating and started to see some numbers that were going from, “Huh, I should work on that,” to, “Holy crap,” I was ready and able to get back to good habits.

Food no longer has control over me.  Gaining a few pounds no longer cause a negative loop of shame.  I no longer see myself as running away from my inner fat kid.  I instead see myself as someone who is a few pounds over his preferred weight and who, therefore, needs to remember to eat a few more goddamn salads and not quite so many muffins.

Admitting powerlessness to food didn’t work out nearly so well for me.

Comments

[The Everlasting Dave]

While this probably wasn't your intent, I will be directing people to this post as a response to the question "Have you ever considered Narcotics Anonymous?" Admitting powerlessness is like handing off the controller to someone else because the end boss is too hard. I'd at least like there to be, you know, someone good at video games on the other end of that exchange. Someone that exists would also be nice.

Also, "Well I like you, you can't be all bad!" "Yeah, well, you're an idiot like most people, that's why you like me." It's a fun game.

[Janet]

My husband once recalled to me a time back in college when I was in a relationship with one of his high-school friends, and we were all standing around in a group together, a handful of guys who had known each other forever and I, the girlfriend trying to fit in.

As had become his habit, my then-boyfriend was badmouthing his most recent ex. At some point I interjected my hope that next year would not find them all standing around saying uncharitable things about me. I'm not sure if my then-future husband was the only one to feel a stab of guilt. I am told that my husband and I now share equally as objects of his angst. The reason for this should be implicitly obvious.

It would be very easy for me to fall into the ex-bashing rut, as I think about how that relationship fell apart and how much pain it caused. But it would not be fair to expect anything more from those involved.

One employs exacting standards when evaluating a potential mate. Minor incompatibilities that are easily tolerated in good friends can be irreconcilable if encountered in a life partner. You bear your soul for someone and expect empathy of a near supernatural quality in return. But clear communication is not always possible.

Why shouldn't unreasonable expectations be met with disappointment? At least I gave it an honest try, and I must assume he did too. If I decided it was hopeless when he didn't, that isn't anyone's fault.

Back to the topic at hand: My husband and I were just discussing what functional differences might exist between prayer and other instruments of soul-searching. I postulated that the involvement of an omnipotent third party may help some people avoid the traps of self-delusion in their personal lives (as counter-intuitive as that might seem to some), and also to trust the revelations of their introspection.

Sadly enough, a lot of people do feel profoundly powerless, and no feat of reason can induce them to draw strength from within. Such a person might more easily accept the notion of a third party stepping in to empower them, thus restoring hope, and providing a foundation for personal growth.

[Michael Mock]

@ Janet - I don't want to simply refute you, because in a lot of ways I think you're right. Projecting unwelcome emotions and traits (and even positive things like confidence can, for various reasons, be unwelcome) can make it easier to examine them, or even (as you just suggested in terms of prayer) to employ them.

Human beings are, as our host has observed on several occasions, storytelling beings - not just because we tell stories at all, but because in a lot of ways we process things best, mentally and emotionally, in terms of stories.

The problem with postulating the actual existence of an external third-party (omnipotent or not; plenty of pagans do similar things with multiple gods of more limited scope) is that it can set up unrealistic (and therefore problematic) expectations, or bring potentially harmful baggage along with it. ("God loves you and wants you to succeed" can be empowering; "God loves you and wants you to succeed, and doesn't care what happens to your co-workers because they don't go to the right sort of church" can set you up for even more trouble than the original lack of confidence was causing.)

[Geds]

Dave: Actually, my Fat Kid story was originally going to be a, "This is why I'm not a fan of AA," story. But I realized I'd actually have to find the research I know exists to back that one up and it was almost midnight and I was tired. So I went with my story, which is pretty applicable to AA and NA and, well, growing up hearing that I wasn't supposed to solve my problems, but hope that Jesus did it for me...

Janet: As someone who has been known to badmouth exes, um, I see badmouthing an ex, especially in the presence of a current, as a red flag. Stuff will come up that invites and necessitates complaints, but in general if someone is incessantly badmouthing an ex then it's an indication of some sort of underlying issue. It could be a self-image issue or a projection issue or an indication of lack of desire/ability to take the blame for past mistakes or something. But I see it as a red flag. Mostly because I'm pretty sure what's going on in my head when I do it.

MM: Agree on the last point. Although I don't think it even has to go as far as the persecution step. If you invite a third party in to the conversation and said third party is conveniently silent on most things it's easier sometimes to stop talking to the second party and focus exclusively on the third. That, again, keeps you from actually working on the real problem at hand.