I have a number of reasons for this blog, each quite different, but each has its’ own connection, in some tenuous fashion.
One prominent value that has transpired from writing, is the catharsis that it can bring.
I’ve found that writing about my feelings and complex mental experiences, has a similar benefit to having conversations with the people around me. In a sense I guess it becomes a form of therapy and provides freedom from obstacles such as embarrassment or shame, which (certainly in my case) can impede these discussions. It’s an opportunity to get thoughts out of my head and into a more objective space.
I suppose it’s ironic that I would write these things publicly on a blog, yet on the one hand I feel it’s unlikely that anyone would really be interested and if they were, I’d hope that they would maybe appreciate a bit of camaraderie.
My experience of mental health struggles climaxed towards the end of 2019 and a sequence of events cascaded to me leaving my job in the spring of 2020. I have since remained out of work as I explore new career avenues for the future and endeavour to sort my head out.
To admit to these struggles remains a novelty to me.
You see this stuff doesn’t affect me. I don’t do depression, I don’t do anxiety and I don’t take time off work just because I’m a bit under the weather. I don’t whinge, I get on with it; pain is for wimps, it doesn’t hurt that much, it’ll be raight.
I’m fine.
Even now I’m reluctant to talk about it. Why would I want to burden others with such self indulgence? It’s not their problem to carry, it’s mine.
I’ve found that once you’ve established dark patterns of thought, they can return to haunt you. It’s like an old mark on the wall that you repaint but the shadow just seems to remain.
You have to learn new ways to think, to overwrite the old and resist the urge to pick the scab or scratch at the scars. It’s a new skillset and a new understanding about how consciousness exists and operates, that you don’t need to be the victim of your thoughts.
It was only two days ago that I had a bad day.
It came a bit out of the blue and I was surprised to feel myself get swept up by the wave of negative thinking; I’ve gotten much better at keeping it in sight and under control.
I have a bad habit of judging myself very critically. I was a chef but never really made my mark in it, despite once having lofty ambitions. Now I’m looking to shift careers but I feel so behind everyone. Like I’ve wasted too much time and left it too late, destined to be an underachieving loser.
I was given every advantage I could be offered. A middle class white male, healthy, smart and capable. I’m fortunate to have blessed relationships with great people, from my partner to family and friends. Yet despite this I find myself flawed, unemployed and lost.
How could I screw things up so badly?
My mother died when I was 12 and inevitably the home was unhappy for many years; from the age of 16 I found the solace in cannabis, which is so good at cushioning reality. It was to become a form of self-medication for a long time, always smoothing out the edges and keeping the more unpleasant expressions of my personality at bay.
I’m pretty much T-total these days. Apart from a crisp craft beer on a sunny evening, consumed more for the taste than any intoxicating effects (I’ve never enjoyed being drunk), I prefer to keep my head clear. However in years gone by I wonder if I ever self-sabotaged? Did I make stupid decisions or miss opportunities, procrastinating in a hazy stupor; preventing my own achievements with repressed vitriol that was never addressed?
Even after repetitive analysis I still don’t know.
At a younger age I really sought out chemical intoxications, the more reality distorting the better, being objective now I see it as a desire for escapism rather than intoxication, presumably a classic vector for the start of any substance ‘abuse’.
My career as a chef had always felt like such a battle and I was often tired, strung out and angry, plagued by headaches that became a day to day companion. To my shame my behaviour at work has moments that I would correct if I could live them again. Working as a chef is historically a tough job although the conditions and culture have progressed a lot from its’ more infamous reputation. With insight from my regrets I’ve worked hard to evolve as a person, a manager and a leader. Much of this comes from understanding yourself and your own behaviour, then through compassion and empathy you can learn to impact others more constructively via the wisdom of your flaws.
Now I find myself wandering frantically, like walking in a fog, lost and unsure where my path lies. Food is still an anchor that positions me and when I don’t know where to turn I cook; it’s when I feel grounded and I know what I’m doing next.
I’m not sure where I’m headed right now or where I’ll end up. I’m learning new skills but it’s tough to be back at the bottom of a learning curve . Your ego takes a beating when you can’t do something and it can whisper in your ear,
“This isn’t for you.”
“You aren’t smart enough.”
“Everyone else can do it.”
“You’re too old.”
“Just give it up.”
“Walk away”
“Stick to what you know.”
The thoughts in my head are a swirling whirlwind and sometimes they manifest like lead in my mind. All I can do is keep trying and try to remember to have courage and to keep going.
Repeat after me.
If I fall I will stand back up again, the darkest day means tomorrow will be always be brighter.
