#naturally i am going to have adderall for energy and then drink more to get rid of the bad feelingssss

[pinkspiraling]

i drank and i feel so icky and sleepy now

[thealphabetmurders]

Irises

Pairing: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2522

Summary: Virgil knows exactly 3 things: 1. He is stressed about finals more than a normal person would 2. Impressionists are the worst 3. The barista at this new coffee shop has the prettiest eyes

Triggers: anxiety, insomnia, implied/referenced drug-use, lack of self care

Authors Note: I wanted to challenge myself and write a fic with a pairing that I don’t normally do. I am definitely more privy to Logince, Analogical, and Moxiety, but I gotta love Prinxiety, how could you not?  

(Read on AO3)

Virgil tugged off his earbuds as he walked into Monet’s, an unfamiliar coffee house and a new experience for Virgil. Virgil hated new experiences. The smell of vanilla filled his senses as he walked in a dream-like state to the counter (standing a little bit away to let the employees know he wasn’t ready), rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, getting his fix here because he did not have the energy to go out and buy more grounds. He knew that it was most likely extremely unhealthy for him to have only consumed Takis, coffee, and Adderall the past couple days, but it was finals week, which meant it was crunch time. 

Virgil tells people he is a bit more anxious than most people, and by a bit, he means a fuckton. So, of course, finals week has him questioning everything in his life, from his study methods to his career path. Virgil is a smart guy, so he doesn’t actually have anything to worry about, as long as he studies, right? Wrong. As a fine arts major, not all of his classes are just knowing that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, you have to apply the skills you learned into a creative piece, and while Virgil is a talented artist, he was always second guessing everything he created. Which is why, in the 11th hour, Virgil decided he hated the medium he was working in, completely scrapped it, and had 48 hours to create 3 completely new “transformative” pieces. Sleep was not an option until it had to be. Which, it seemed it had been, when he fell asleep on the bus after class, missing his apartment by 11 stops. Coffee seemed necessary at this point. 

Pulling his hoodie off his head, smoothing out his hair, he looked at the pretty standard local coffee shop menu with some lunch items as well, and just looking at those made his stomach grumble. 

“Suppose you cannot create on an empty stomach.” Virgil thought. “And while I’m here…”

 As he was reading, he noticed each combo had a quirky name relating to Monet’s works. Berry spring salad with bagel was Luncheon on the Grass, sesame soba was The Japanese Footbridge….

“Give me a break…” Virgil muttered, before finally deciding on what to get. The shop was completely empty, so Virgil didn’t feel too bad about taking his time, though he did feel a bit nervous looking like a mess in front of the handsome barista. 

His olive colored skin tone with black wavy hair made Virgil feel a bit woozy, but he became dazed when he looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, almost forgetting why he was there, until he asked, “What can I do for ya, man?” 

“Uh, yea, can I get the tomato soup and grilled cheese with a medium espresso frappuccino,” He looked around the empty store, “For here, I guess,”

The barista turned around and looked at the two other employees behind him, one on their phone and one inspecting their nails absentmindedly, “Does anyone want to make a frap?” 

They both looked up and looked at each other before turning back to the one taking Virgil’s order. The one with a large scar on the left side of his face put his thumb down while the other one who looked very similar to his cashier blew a raspberry, shaking his head. The handsome cashier turned back to Virgil, and shrugged, “Sorry, gonna have to pick something else, no one want to make it,” 

Virgil sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Okay, whatever, is an iced flat white with some espresso okay?”

The three looked at each other then back at Virgil, before the cashier said, “Dude… It was a joke,” 

“Yea man,” The barista with a scar said, “We can’t just say no to what you order,” 

“What kind of business would that be?” The third one piped up. 

“Are you okay?” The barista, Virgil looked at his nametag, Roman, asked. 

Virgil merely sighed, “I’m kind of going through it,” 

Virgil pulled out his card, but Roman put his hand up. “On the house,” Normally Virgil would protest, despite the cheesy food names it was still a local business,  but being so stressed and depressed he honestly could bring himself to care. He choked out a thanks and sat down by a window, leaning his temple against the it, cool condensation comforting and making him a bit more awake. 

His food and his coffee eventually arrived, Virgil thanked Roman, who then proceeded to sit down across from him, elbows on the table and hands folded. 

“Can I help you?” Virgil asked, probably being harsher than intended, it was just his natural speaking voice. 

“Probably not, I wanna see if I can help you,” Roman shrugged. 

Virgil frowned, “Help me?” 

“I have been told I am good company and good at advice, and you, Brad Pitt-iful, seems like you are falling apart at the seams,” 

Virgil chuckled dryly, “Trust me, I hardly think you are qualified to handle hearing about all my problems,” 

Roman sat up straighter, looking into Virgil’s brown eyes against his gorgeous green, “I work as a barista by day with a bunch of dysfunctional idiots and I am a bartender at night, there is nothing I haven’t seen before, I am probably more qualified than some therapists”  He crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow, “Try me,” 

Virgil, intrigued, took the bait, and spilled. He talked about his anxiety, the insomnia, the fear of failure, the days where he debates dropping out, his nerves going into overdrive everytime he thinks about what he is going to, how he abandoned his final project, how he has to start on a new one- essentially everything that has been swirling in Virgil’s mind the past semester. 

“Hmm, okay, so you are pulling all nighters to finish all your work, and you only had one piece to do before you were completely finished with your final, and you then decided it looked all wrong and scrapped it?” Roman recapped and Virgil nodded, “Might I give you a suggestion?” 

“You can try,” 

“When you get home, go to sleep. Sleep for at least 9 hours, in a row, look at your old project again, and see how you feel,” Roman shrugged, “Maybe with a clear head you will feel differently about your project, maybe even get some inspiration,” 

Virgil gripped the bridge of his nose, “Roman, I do not have the time to sleep for a full 9 hours, that is ridiculous, I have to do so many projects,” 

“You’ll have one less to start from square one in if you end up actually liking what you did,” 

“It is a nice thought, I appreciate it, but I probably won’t be able anyways, not after the coffee,” Virgil took another sip, as to prove his point, but Roman just smirked. 

“That’s actually just a frozen hot chocolate with coffee flavoring in it,” 

Virgil eyes flew open wide, “Really?” He stared at his drink for a bit before looking at Roman, “They taste exactly the same, I cannot believe I let you fool me like that,” 

“Janus, Remus, and I made an executive decision, you do not look good,” Roman frowned, concerned, most likely looking at his swallowed out skin and circle under his eyes. 

“Well-” Virgil half-chuckled, “Not a lot of people look good compared to you,” Virgil would later wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because of his flippant flirting that he never engages in, but for now he doesn’t care. 

“Charmed.” Roman said, a fond smile present on his face, “I am sure you are a catch as well, when you don’t look like a skeleton” The door opened and a gaggle of people walked in, dressed in the local high school’s uniform. Roman sighed, “That’s my cue,” 

He stood up and frowned, quickly patting his front and back pockets before pulling out a sharpie. He grabbed Virgil's arm, the other one yelped, blushing slightly at the contact. “I would do the cliche ‘write my number on a napkin’, but now I know if you don’t text me it’s because you don’t want to, which is okay too.” He capped his pen, “Message me about what you decide to do, if you want. Would love to see your art,” And with a flourish of his hand, Roman walked away to the counter to take the many orders of the teenagers. 

Virgil looked down at the 9 numbers on his arm, swallowing thickly, feeling a bit sick, though it is not just from Roman’s number in bold, black ink. God, he was tired. 

His body was not attached to his brain as he walked to the bus station, got off, and walked up to his studio, unlocking the door and banging his head against the wall (not too hard, though, these walls are so thin they might as well be made of rice paper). Virgil looked at the numbers on his arm, remembering what Roman said. 

Virgil shrugged off his jacket and jeans,  throwing them on his ‘stuff’ chair and pulled on a pair of sweats, collapsing on his bed. He looked at his phone, the time reading 3:35pm. 

“9 hours from now… That’s midnight. Is he mental?” Virgil muttered to himself. He attempted to pull himself out of bed to get started to study for his history of art final, but his body would just not cooperate. How long has it been since he has had a proper sleep. 

If you have to think about it, it’s been too long… 

That tomato soup and grilled cheese combination was beginning to make him sleepy. Virgil groaned, face-palming. He went on his phone and set an alarm for 6:00pm. 

“Fine, a short nap,” He said to himself. He hit the lights and it took maybe two minutes before he was sleeping, dreaming of impression paintings and emerald eyes. 

***

this is Virgil. 

i didn’t end up sleeping for the 9 hours like you asked

i ended up sleeping for 13.

i hate you. 

And how do you feel, now?

……….…

much better actually. you were right. after my coma i looked back at my final and realised it was a lot better than I remembered. 

i even ended up finishing it. 

That is fantastic! I am soooo glad I could help. What did you end up doing?

Can you send me a picture? 

oh uh

idk if that is a good idea

i don’t want you to think i am weird

Virgil. 

I beta read my twin’s fanfiction. 

I am so desensitized, I do not think I am allowed to be weirded out. 

ok...

img.cm/1029483

Incoming call (Roman- Monet’s)....

****

Virgil yelped when he saw the incoming call. He doesn’t like phone calls at the best of times, but especially not now, not after he showed Roman his final piece. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! He should have just said no, people don’t press about that kind of thing. But Roman is clearly a liar because he said he wouldn’t be weirded out and he is, and Virgil just met this guy and he already messed everything up, why does he have to be such a fucking weirdo all the time, goddamnit, everything is falling apart, Virgil may have gotten sleep but he can’t fix himself. He groaned and snatched up the phone on the last ring, attempting to put on his best, most positive voice. 

“Hey, Roman, wha-what’s up… Bro?” 

“Hello!” Roman answered the phone, not sounding angry or upset, which calmed Virgil a bit, “I apologize, I should have prefaced that I loved the painting. I understand why you might have been worried, but it is absolutely wonderful.” 

“Really?” Virgil let out a breath, “I was really worried that-” 

“Are you kidding?” Roman almost shouted through the phone, Virgil having to pull it away from his ear, “A profile of just my eyes surrounded by roses and irises, in the style of the impressionists, even though I know you hate that style,”

“I don’t hate it,” Virgil muttered. 

“You ranted about Renoir, Degas, and Monet for longer than anyone I have ever met, and one of my closest friends is a curator at the art museum,” 

Virgil sighed, “Yea, you’re right, they suck. Sorry about that…” 

Roman laughed, “Ha, are you joking? That was the highlight of my day. But all that aside, how could you even fathom me not liking the piece? 

“I mean,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “I just met you yesterday, it’s not exactly something people do for someone when they do not even know their last name.” 

“My last name is Perez, my middle name is Thomas, my twin brother is Remus who you met yesterday, I am left handed, my favorite food color is red, and I love attention, it’s why I have done theater for 20 years. Does that help?” 

Virgil grumbled, “I guess it does,” 

Roman laughed, “I love it, Virgil, trust me, it is now my phone background,” 

Virgil’s heart swelled, “Really?” 

“Really. Honestly after us talking for like, 45 minutes yesterday, I would have been more offended if I wasn’t your muse, I mean, what about mean isn’t inspirational?” Both Roman and Virgil laughed at that, “But I could have told you all this over text, I called because I don’t like texting to ask pretty boys out on dates,” 

Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat, he felt as though someone dropped a ton of bricks on his chest. How was he supposed to respond to that? Roman first impression of him was a literal dead man walking and he still wants to go out with him?

“A date?” Virgil responded, still shocked. 

“Unless the pride pin on your jacket was just as an ally, and you just spent hours painting my eyes in a straight way, I would like to, if you want,” Roman said simply. Before Virgil could respond, Roman started speaking again, “And don’t say no just because I saw you at your rock bottom, I can see where this is going,” 

Virgil smacked his lips together, “You got me,”

“What do you say,” 

Virgil smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a while, “Let’s do it,” 

Virgil was only speechless for a full minute when Roman laid out an entire romantic picnic, scheduling it perfectly to watch a matinee Shakespeare in the Park production of Much Ado About Nothing, both of them happily munching on the brownies and sandwiches Roman had made that morning. Virgil only complained for 3 minutes when Roman wanted to take him to the art museum, the blushing lasted for 4 times that long when Roman confessed it was because he wanted to hear Virgil about the paintings, his voice being one of the most pleasant he has heard. When Roman grabbed Virgil by the waist, pulling him in for a kiss, Virgil responded with equal passion and emotion that Roman was, not even noticing they were in front of Monet’s Irises. 

[emmgemm]

How do you usually get lit when you’re out with friends? Like a few drinks and coke or adderall? Or just sober and good mind set? I want to slow down because I go out a lot with friends, but I don’t want to stop seeing my friends and dancing.

I don’t drink or do coke - I’m at 3 years no hangover!I think LSD and MDMA are rad 😊I usually have enough energy to go out on my own natural high if need be.. if the music is good then that should do it for you I think 💖 everything in moderation you know? I know that adderal can be helpful to rally at longer festivals but it usually leaves me feeling depleted and just blah.. so I try to avoid it most of the timeLately my health and fitness is my #1 ~ being rad to my body and just a feeling AMAZING is the goal ~ I love to party and celebrate life but I am also looking out for my mind and body more than ever before 💓 rather than chasing a high and not thinking of how it will affect the rest of my week etc

[xxlying-from-y0u]

25 Simple Things Every 20-Something Should Realize 🗣

1. Take care of yourself.

“Take care of your health. Take care of your sanity. Take care of the relationships that matter most to you. Enjoy experiences throughout life and be ready to learn. Try not to turn down interesting experiences.” — ElusivePineapple

2. You are not behind.

“Now is generally a time where you feel you should have done something by now, but at the same time have not have a chance to do anything yet.” — Monsterzz 

3. Learn your drinking limit. 

“The day I learned when to cut myself off so I could still be loose and have a good time but not yakking all over the place when I got home was the greatest day of my 20s.” — PunchBeard

4. Pursue a career that allows you to be happy.

“Find a job/career that will ALLOW you to be happy. Of course, there are jobs/careers out there that will MAKE you happy, but I assume that the majority of occupations will involve some factor that will make a person unhappy (long hours, time away from loved ones, perhaps strenuous manual labor, ect.).

However, if you can find an occupation that will allow you to focus on the things in your life that already make you happy, I say go for that. A persons happiness is everything, despite how oversimplified that may seem. Life will take a 180 degree turn when a person finds them self in a job that not only requires the entirety of their day, but requires the entirety of their mind as the workload never ends and causes a person to stress even when off work.

Pursue happiness.” — AyBake

5. Leave when you want to leave. 

“You owe your employer nothing. If you need to leave, leave. If you need your own time, don’t feel pressured to work overtime. If they push the law on what’s legal, take legal action. Try to be as friendly and helpful as possible, but take care of yourself first and don’t let that friendliness get in the way or prevent you from doing what’s right. Learn from my mistakes.” — GoabNZ

6. You need to take responsibility for yourself. 

“Generally, things won’t get better unless you make them better. At the end of the day, you need to take responsibility for yourself.

Sometimes you’ll be on the fortunate end of good luck, and sometimes you’ll be on the unfortunate end of bad luck.

Set goals. Work on them a little bit every day.

Make the life you want and don’t wait for it to be handed to you because chances are, it won’t be handed to you.” — jacobra94

7. Remember how valuable these years of your life are.

“It gets exponentially harder to have novel experiences and explore as you get older, have kids, a mortgage, stable career, etc.

So don’t waste your early-mid twenties. This means lots of different things. Travel if you can. But even if you can’t, meet new people, and go new places. Read about different ideas. Date different kinds of people. Don’t stay in relationships you’re not happy in.

Basically, this part of your life is more valuable than you think.” — TooMuchPants

8. Keep your standards high and your options open.

“You don’t have to marry the first person who pays attention to you.” — ChemicalThread

9. Stop chasing after happiness. 

“My advice: Stop searching for happiness.

I know that sounds all sorts of fucked up, but hear me out.

All the self-help books in the world keep telling you to look for happiness. You look around and all your friends seem to have found various forms of it….except for you. You keep trying to get it and you feel you keep failing and it causes you to panic or get depressed or just feel like an all-around failure. But during all this searching and striving and flailing, have you ever really thought about the nature of happiness itself?

Look – happiness is a feeling, not a state of being. It is lovely and it is fleeting but it is NOT – I emphasize, NOT – the state you should be wishing to live in forever.

Think about it this way.

Going about in a constant state of sadness is dangerous, yes? We discourage that, we spend so much time trying to raise people out of it, and we call it depression. We know it’s unhealthy to live in that state.

Why, then, do we think it’s somehow okay to live – much less set a goal – towards a constant state of happiness? Just because one is a pleasant emotion and the other an unpleasant one doesn’t mean one is any better for us than the other. They’re simply two extremes on a straight line – one above, one below. Neither is healthy over the long-term. Both are meant to be experienced only occasionally.

Instead, pursue the healthy. Pursue contentment.

Contentment means you experience the joy and the sadness in your life without expecting anything unrealistic. You can be secure in the knowledge both feelings will eventually dissipate. There will be moments of supreme joy you can embrace and moments of sadness you must endure. Both feelings have their own meaning.

Contentment is attainable. You can look at your life and say, ‘I have enough, right now. I am okay.’ And from there, any steps you make to further your joy will not come from a place of fear, where you feel you MUST find success or happiness – or you have nothing. You will already have enough. Within contentment, you find peace.” — locogirlp

10. Some friends aren’t meant to stay in your world forever.

“Always salt your pasta while it boils, bunny ears are a perfectly acceptable way to tie your sneakers, some friends aren’t meant to be around forever, save your money but know when to enjoy the fruits of your labor, she’s looking to have fun and feel safe stop trying to marry her, change your own oil, learn how to fix a flat, keep a clean car, never turn down opportunity for fear of failure, take pride in your appearance, and never forget that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” — littlebeargiant

11. Stop making excuses.

“Excuses will destroy your life. Every excuse you make just takes something away from you. You’re not going to class because of shit going on in your life? You’re fucking up your future. Put on your big girl panties and do your shit or you’ll pay for it later.” — SouthernYankeeWitch 

12. Maintain perspective.

“Maintain perspective — things that may seem like a big deal (i.e. getting a large bill) are not worth a world of stress. Work hard and the rest will follow.” — EdMcGIV

13. Seriously, don’t do drugs. 

“Don’t fuck with opiates, stimulants, or benzos. Too many kids in their early twenties think it’s a good time to take prescription pills, be it OxyContin or adderall or Xanax. It all seems innocuous at first, but that shit is incredibly addictive. I was partial to opiates myself, and it fucked me up for a long time after I lost control of it.

Shit goes from ‘fun and recreational’ to ‘desperate because I need it’ faster than you’d think.” — lemon_catgrass

14. Appreciate the people in your universe. 

“You are young, but if you take a second to look around, the family you have been with your whole life have begun to grow old. Your grandparents won’t be around much longer, and your parents are getting into their 40s and 50s. Spend the time with them while they can still enjoy it, because it’s those memories you will have when they get old and are no longer able to do them/aren’t around anymore.” — dourazel

15. Find a balance between work and fun.

“What you spend your time doing right now will lay the foundation for the rest of your life. Have fun, but don’t waste it. You can’t get that time back.” — uacoop

16. Remember that you are still young.

“When I was 24, I had a 30-year old, married couple that I knew and hung out with. The wife told me, ‘Whatever mess you make in your 20’s, you can clean up in your 30’s.’ She said this because I was worried about my career and the possibility of buying a house with my fiance.

Basically, you still have time to grow into a functional adult and you still have the energy and motivation to start your life over and/or make some bad decisions. Experiment. Try and get that new job you want. Move somewhere else.

But try and get your life at least a little bit in order before your 30.” — the_planes_walker

17. Find a career you actually enjoy. 

“Working a job you hate for the money will just make you hate your life. Do something you enjoy even if it pays less and learn to live on that.” — itsZiz

18. Invest in your retirement from an early age.

“As soon as you get a job start investing in your retirement if you can afford it (401k, ira).

Typically your investments should double every 10 years. So every dollar you can invest now will be 16 dollars when you retire. Not to mention the tax shelter when you start making real money (pre tax deductions or post tax taxfree growth).” — workact

19. Realize there are gray areas in life. 

“Critical thinking: Knowing that having two opposing ideas in your head isn’t the cause for a meltdown. Search out at least two (more are better) differing opinions and news sources before deciding on the truth (or relative truth) of a thing. Sometimes there is no black or white, only gray.” — JasperDyne

20. Never forget the importance of networking. 

“Network. Build those work relationships. Be friendly with your coworkers (classmates if you’re still in school). They may know someone who can help you out down the line.

In this world, connections are everything.” — 420shadesofgreen

21. Learn to communicate (and laugh) with your person about sex.

“One of my favorite pieces of sex advicebeyond the very obvious — learn to communicate and talk about sex, is to learn to laugh. Find someone you can laugh with in bed so if the anal or whatever else you try goes completely wrong, it’ll be okay because you can laugh about it. I always feel bad for those people who try something and it goes wrong and they are afraid to ever speak tot he person again or both partners just shut down and won’t speak of it. Laughter defuses so much tension. And while this may not be true of everyone, gosh damn does a good laugh just feel good sometimes. Naked, bed shaking laughter is so underrated.

Plus, the whole communication thing seems to go easier if you both are able to laugh. Sex doesn’t have to be this very serious thing. Not all the time anyway.” — Tzipity

22. Ask your elders for advice before making major decisions.

“Ask the advice of older people before making a big purchase like a house or car. Have them come with you if you can. Young people will often get taken advantage of when taking out loans for something like that. Don’t buy super nice things yet. Buy used things for cheaper and save your money.” — ediblehearts

23. Never forget to wear sunscreen.

“If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

The longterm benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.” — Yooreka

24. Know your single status isn’t embarrassing. 

“You do not need to be married by now.” — aden34

25. Treat your body with respect.

“Do not take your body or your health for granted. You need your teeth, arteries, lungs and joints to last you the rest of your life. Treat them with the respect they deserve for keeping you alive, and perhaps that life will be long and healthful.” — bakemeawaytoys

[jackisfromthemoon-blog]

Driftwood Tuesdays

There is a trailer park in my mind where a perpetual thunderstorm rages; the moms and dads howl and punch at each other as lightning flashes, each blow they land booms with the thunder, and the little children are tossed about like debris in the wind. When I close my eyes I can go there; I can feel my heart electric in the cool darkness as little feet pull me toward whatever trauma is taking place just beyond my bedroom door. I can still run my hand along the edges of the holes pockmarking the walls of the hallway between my bedroom and theirs, each about the size of my dad's fist or foot. I can hear her weeping as I approach one slight step at a time and feel the crisp thwack of leather piercing air and slapping hard on my mother's skin and reverberating forever in the tombs of my heart. I can see him above her, belt in hand. I can hear his tone, sarcastic, through slurred speech but can't make out the words. Mom lays fetal on the bed, her face caked in tears, her ribcage gyrating between gasping breaths, moaning in honest agony.

Are we all just scared children? Am I? I know he must have been scared. I know what it is to ride helpless in a body that is doing things I hate. I have tried to reconcile these kinds of scenes with everything that came later, the obsessions and compulsions, my self hatred and recklessness, all the selfish choices. Probably there is a line that can be drawn. What a terrible thought, that before we have any self determination at all, some shit that happens to us that punches a hole in the metaphorical boats of our lives so that we spend the years we should be learning to navigate the ocean of adulthood just trying to bail out water.

All my life I have wanted change. I wanted to become the kind of little boy who did his homework and who didn't make scenes in class. I've wanted to stop picking my nose, to stop getting in fights, to stop crying in public. I've wanted to stop my mom having to pick me up from school because I overturned a desk in Art class, or because I threw a stool at the music teacher. Always I've been trying to stop doing the wrong things and start doing the right ones. Unfortunately I've wanted this change to happen sort of generally, and life is not lived generally; life is lived on particular tuesday nights, and on a given particular tuesday night it was likely that my young self was recovering from some particular horror, and it was more important that I allow myself the most pleasure possible than to do the thing that needed doing. Then on Wednesday morning, when the shame comes, it's very difficult to have another epiphany of change. At some point another voice becomes louder. Embrace the truth it says. This is who you are. You are not someone who can do the things he says he's going to do. You are flawed. Just live there. And so you do. And so I did.

I hate to think that I, a man of 30, am still bailing out that same water and therefor am still playing out the same drama as that scared child. How can that be? Surely sometime in the last ten years or so I've had the chance to right the ship? I don't think that my personal trauma was all that much worse than what a lot of others, people who have done much better at navigating the sea off life than I have, went through.

Addiction is a real bitch. It mostly comes to those of us who are already living lives of stress and disappointment, who already feel out of control – the water bailers. We are needy people. We are tired. When relief offers itself to us, we'll take that relief. No, we'll take double. Scratch that. Just give us the whole case, please and thank you. If being drunk or high that makes us feel good then we will be drunk or high. If its comes along who possesses that magic touch that pierces our darkness we'll declare them our emotional Jesus Christ (and we'll crucify them too.) It can be religion. It can be video games. For most of us its a long list of things we indulge in to excess to get out of our terror filled heads for 10 minutes or so. And this is bad. This is a life out of control. But the things, the alcohol or the sex, aren't really the problem at first. They're just things. But then one day, these things come alive.

Pretty soon, if we drink every day, our brains will decide that they need to drink every day, need it like it's fucking water. The thing that was designed to make us clamber out of our caves each morning and join the other hominids in hunting food and safety and sex is redirected and convinced that was it really needs is Jim Beam. How are we supposed to argue with the deep rooted guidance of our mammalian brains? Oh. With abstract reasoning, right? Surely the frontal cortex will be our salvation? Because we can see that its the liquor or the erotic chat rooms that are killing us we can stop, right? Did I happen to mention that this stoping has to be done on a particular Tuesday when we're going to have to first go to work with a hangover, get shit on by the boss because we half assed yesterday's paperwork, and then go home to a wife who rightly doesn't trust us and has some acute remarks to make about our behavior of late (or worse to an empty apartment with nothing to focus on but our own addicted mind), all of this couched in an existence primarily marked by feelings of isolation and fear – fuck if we can remember why. No. I think I'll go ahead and have that drink that my mind and body are crying out for. Logic and abstract reasoning can go fuck themselves. Truly.

And now, my friends, this traumatized person, this scared child desperately trying to bail water from his emotional boat while the water rises higher and higher with adulthood, is trapped in a new cycle, and has a new problem; he is an addict. Worse, the old feelings of inadequacy and helplessness are reinforced by the trauma of realizing (and he does realize, the frontal cortex is good for that much) he is an addict, and he can't quit the addiction for the same reason he couldn't stop punching those kids in the face and couldn't do his homework. He has other problems. The water still must be bailed. Each problem reinforces the other. If he'd felt helpless before, well, now he just feels fucked.

We try to stop. And maybe we can stop – for a week or two, but on some particular tuesday we fail, just like we did when we were little kids trying to do our homework. We fail like we knew we would, like we always have and always will.

My addiction is sexual in nature. Can I tell you about it? I mean really tell you? Would you really care to know? So much of my life has been lived underground, in that dark place I don't talk about and no one else can see. More than half of myself, hidden. I'm afraid to do this. Is it reckless to reveal the darkest secrets to the world? Someone has to, I suppose. To paraphrase Yoni Wolf, sometimes you have to scream something out or you'll never tell nobody.

My addiction started when I was 15, so that's 15 years ago now, half my life. Somehow I'll figure out how to communicate the dark side of those fifteen years, but life, is lived on particular Tuesdays, so I think for now I'll just tell you about a recent one.

A few weeks ago was Taylor Acoustics's birthday. Taylor and I had been growing distant for years now, but the love was still there whenever we did happen to find ourselves together. We hadn't lived in the same area for many years and I viewed the night of birthday celebration in the city as a chance to reignite the playful fire of our friendship and to start a new chapter, this one older, more grizzled, set in Downtown Detroit and with higher stakes. I had masturbated every day that week; it wasn't out of control to the point where I wasn't leaving my bedroom unless I was alone in the house or so that I couldn't look people in their eyes, but it did mean that with a little alcohol in me I could become tired easily, or go hazy, or become depressed and in the worst case start spilling that depression in ways subtle or obvious. So I had called up Binge and procured 4 Adderall pills to ensure I would have the energy for a night of fun.

The day of the party I dropped Prophesy off at work, came home, and realized that I had six good hours before I needed to head over to Taylor's. I think I held out for 10 minutes before my brain did the necessary math for the inevitable to occur. You see, one of the problems of the lifelong compulsive masturbator is that while the force of the compulsion only becomes a heavier freight train over time, the act its self holds less and less pleasure. Certain drugs and certain combinations of drugs can recruit novel parts of the brain to join in on the fun and generally make one feel like a teenager with his first high speed internet connection again. So when it occurred to me that I had the loving combination of amphetamine and marijuana readily at my disposal and six hours with nothing to do on my hands? Well – I didn't really feel like I had any choice in the matter.

The pill was a slow release 20, a lot for a guy with no tolerance built up, and I felt the sweet buzz of energy almost as soon as I gulped the water down after the pill. Soon after that I picked out a good sized nug of cannabis, broke it up with my fingers, and loaded the entire thing into my bong. I took hit after hit, rapidly taking as much smoke into my lungs in as little time as possible.

The internet connection at the house is such that I have to hold my computer up to the window, pay a few dollars for a 24 hour subscription to a local wifi service, and in this manner download all of the content I need before sitting or laying down to enjoy. In my current state of drug enabled efficiently and creatively, I collected pictures and stories with a sense of urgency and adherence to method akin to that of a speed chess player. For the first few hours my masturbation was ecstasy. Every model on my screen was a living goddess and testament to the divine nature of feminine sexuality. My fantasies as always undulated between the twin extremes of ultimate power and total humiliation. I'd always wanted to either own or submit, a perpetual teenager both worshiping what he couldn't have and wanting to control it. I was almost a god to my little psychic harem summoning submissive angels at will to fulfill my tiniest desires, and then at the next moment a slave, kissing the feet of a beautiful teenage queen with worthless lips while she casually scrolls her cell phone barely noticing me. Then I was the goddess herself and I imagined what life might have been with a different body, how powerful and beautiful and perfect I could have been, how I could have had slaves – slaves like me – and a life of erotic whimsy. Every so often when I felt the weed wearing off I would roll over and frantically grab my bong off the floor and take a hit before returning to my inclusive world of pleasure and shame. But as the hours rolled on, almost unnoticed, shame began to overrule pleasure, and logic threatened to intrude on my bliss.

You're going to be a piece of shit for Taylor's party.

I jerked off a little harder, even though my boner was becoming smaller in my hand and the pleasure less tangible.  

They're going to be able to smell the shame on you.

I scrolled through stories looking for a darker fantasy to pull my consciousness back down into the pleasure cave and away from the voice. I didn't want to think of the other friends who would be there that night and how I would inevitably act like a ragged street dog around them – too aggressive and too needy all at once. I went back to the task at hand.

This is fucking sad.

Then my phone, a $20 flip phone I had bought specifically because of it's lack of internet access, started buzzing. I grabbed it and looked at the screen. A text message from Innocence, wanting to talk. Sorry, Innocence, not today. A minute later it buzzed again. My mom calling. I hit silence. I went back to stoking myself. Each time it buzzed a little shock of fear struck my heart. Once the mind gives itself to the fantasy world, reality becomes the ghost. A minute or an hour later it buzzed again. Mom again.

I stood up and propped my Macbook against my window sill for more downloading. In order to do this I had to move one leg off the bed and sort of shimmy my foot on the floor until it had penetrated the layer of crap – books, dirty clothes, papers, odd objects of which I do not know the origin, that cover the space of my bedroom floor while kneeling with the other leg on the bed so as not to have to attempt to make room for that foot as well. I felt like a child and like a rat. During this operation I did not lose focus on the task at hand for a moment. I stood this way, gathering pictures and stories, these ones more extreme in their fetish content, for I don't know how long; I only know that when the phone buzzed again my right leg was spasming in little bursts, my ankle on the floor had begun to ache from supporting my weight, as did my dick from being manhandled while at half mast. The phone kept buzzing, each pulse a screaming banshee of shame.

Your grandpa is dead or some such thing. She's desperate to reach you. She knows her fuck up son isn't picking up the phone because he's busy being a fuck up. She's disgusted. She's scared. She hates you.

I turned the phone off and threw it on the floor.

Time stood still for my hand and my dick, but my fantasies got darker with the sky. I contemplated finding a bad mistress, a real sadist who would make my life hell. I don't mean that I just fantasized about this; I mean that I considered actually doing it. I would find a woman like this somehow and give myself to her. I'd give her all of my money, my birth certificate, my social security card, my debit card. I'd help her to make a video of me in humiliating positions, and then I'd make a list of embarrassing people she could send it to me as blackmail if I ever misbehaved. I'd order a chastity device for myself and give her the key. I'd be her slave. That was what I deserved, to be a slave. With the adderall and weed still powering my brain I plunged into previously unexplored depths of specifics. I imagined myself seeking out bitchy women and then presenting this idea to them. I created a power point presentation in my mind which I would show them in order to convince them that having me as a slave would be beneficial to their lives. I even posted a craigslist ad with this premise. I wanted to feel insane. I was no longer masturbating about sex or women; I was jerking off to my own shame and I'd never felt more erotic.

Around seven the adderall started to wear off. I hadn't come and my body ached from being held stiff. My dick hurt and was probably bleeding. None of this felt good anymore. I found my phone, and with great effort decided that I'd better call my mom back incase someone really was dead. No one was. She wanted to have dinner with me that night. I told her I couldn't make it and my voice shook as I apologized a little too emphatically. But that was all it was.

I also had texts from Taylor Acoustic but I was in no condition to go out. Any plans had to be canceled. This night would be another trophy on the mantle of the addiction which had already stollen so much from my life. Anyway, this was no time for philosophical contemplation of my condition. I had work to do. I took another pill.

I jerked all through the night to more and more humiliating fantasies, trying to push the sense of erotic shame to its brink, but the magic was gone and now the models weren't quite pretty enough or else didn't fit with my fantasies. The stories I found were either poorly written or didn't echo properly with my fetishes. My brain demanded some deeper depth of perversion to re-ignite the intensity but, drugs or no, my body simply wasn't built to maintain sexual stimulation for this long. My dick was soft in my hand half the time though I never stopped pumping. I kept getting up to take another hit off the bong and download more pictures, but my leg was throbbed with pain when I stood on it and reality's encroachments became sadder and harder to ignore. On and on this went. The shame felt like real shame and I wanted to push it away. My right hand kept stroking. My left hand kept clicking. Story, picture, story, this model, that one. The birds chirping outside my window mocked my pain. My body ached. Each stoke hurt my dick. Finally, around 11 in the morning 22 hours after I'd casually swallowed that first pill, I found my release.

So that's what a specific tuesday can be like in the life of an addict. I've told you the details, but I don't know how to communicate the horror of being trapped in a body that does these kinds of things, that seemingly can't not do these kinds of things. In my best moments I love life, I love intimacy and connection and love. But then sometimes I go into a trance where I worship the idea of these ideas exact opposites. Such insane helplessness. And yet it always feels like its my fault. This is not something that happens to me, its something I do. Am I a freak? A pervert? There is a line of logic which says I should embrace these things, I mean, I'm not hurting anyone. I hear this line, but I can only say that whether I'm hurting anyone or not, I do not want to keep doing these things, from my innermost core I reject them. They are terror to me. They are hell. I do not want them. I will not embrace them.

I spent the next two days in bed. My nervous system was shocked to fuck so I couldn't sleep. Most parts of my body hurt and I could hardly touch my dick even to pee. I laid there in the darkness contemplating my condition and laughing at my brain's little fantasies of change. This would not be some rock bottom experience launching me into changed life. I masturbated again as soon as I could.

[a-m00d]

Not talking again

So we got in a bit of a fight starting last night, and now he is completely not responding to me. It started with me....because we had a bit of a virtual sex thing Friday night when I was drinking, and I kindof felt bad/weird about it the next day...but chose not to think about it. But the main thing that got me sad was that it seemed like, he just felt like doing that with me cuz we hadn’t in a while and he was into me particularly that night (as he said). So of course I have to wonder, all those many nights we didn’t talk about anything sexual, how many girls he was saying the same things to. He posted the next day on instagram (twice) a pic of the vapor inhaler, referring to it as kinky...and the fact he posted it twice....and along with a pic of a wolf I know signals some other kindof love story i’m unaware of makes me think he is reaching out to his old flings on instagram since he’s been horny lately. I was trying to be nice and caring towards him being sick, but when I do that...he takes advantage of me and tries to get horny with me and everything like that. Sometimes I comply and sometimes I don’t but I wonder often if he just reaches out to other girls when I don’t comply. And maybe it’s not every time, but i’m sure it’s happened. But from what he’s told me...he loves me, he wants to marry me, etc. and that he hasn’t talked to other girls. Whether he has been with other girls or not, he’s never satisfied. He’s just downright manipulative. I gave him tons of pictures of me one night and the next night he’s complaining I won’t do it again.

The most frustrating thing, though, are his responses when I call him out about this. It’s impossible to get through to him, get him to apologize about anything, get him to even stick to the point. I know so well enough by now that we will never be stable. Whenever we’re not fighting I just wait for things to boil over again. And it always happens. He’s manic and will never change. And on the other side of the coin, i’ve gotten to this point where he’s pretty much the closest friend to me and the person I go to if I’m in trouble, and we’re there for each other...but we just can’t be stable. It’s hard to stare at my phone and realize no one texted me all day. And to be honest, even if I do have that ongoing chat with any of my friends, it’s just not the same. I’m so used to talking to him non-stop. When we wake up...all day, and right up until we go to bed.

I found myself habitually just staring down at my phone all day during work, when waiting for my computer to load, etc., times when I’m just used to texting him back. It’s the perfect amount of time to say something. And every time, I realized, oh, I can’t text him. And I found myself pretty consciously aware of that habit after the realization that I probably wouldn’t get a text from him for the rest of the work day. So there was a huge void. But after yesterday, I felt really down about my life and where i’m at....knowing that he is a part of things I need to move on from or mature away from. I still find myself looking at my phone awaiting his text back. It’s not like him to go this long without texting. But at the same time, I have to tell myself...this is what I need. I’ve already bent myself over about the morals of the whole thing and my slow learning logic/emotional connection point, and what is not right and wrong, etc. But given the nature of where our conversation is at....this seems like a good time to let go. I’m sure I won’t though, and things will get worse. Maybe he’ll text back at some point and i’ll let him in again...but I can’t be the one to text. If he doesn’t text back within the next day or two, I should then block him and then give myself the time to finally grieve and be free. 

I have to think about the fact that, when I am distracted, he is so nice to have around. When I’m scared or upset or going through something awful, I love that he is there, and I totally take that for granted until the times when I don’t have it. But also that, just like any dependency, it takes time to get your body off of it. I have to think about that, at least 50% of the time when we are good...I find myself thinking that I don’t even really like his personality...when he talks about stocks and shit, it’s not even the fact that I don’t quite care about the details, but more about I don’t like his aggressive/BS persona...the persona that boasts about making money or people praising him or that he’s gonna be so rich...or when he’s “so poor” and then splurges his money on something totally unnecessary. I don’t like the persona of his that—consciously or unconsciously—ignores what I’m saying and talks about himself on and on and on. I could list a million more things in here, but I think this is getting away from the deeper issues I started to feel just before writing this post.

When he moved away, I was devastated. Because, weirdly, for those last 2 days, we were in such a good place. But back then I also had the hope that he would still change if he went away. My brain told me he wouldn’t, but that feeling of hope was still there. Now, talking to him in FL, I know he not only hasn’t changed, but probably won’t make it back to NY any time soon. (which in essence is fine, because I wouldn’t want him back in NY if he was in the place that he’s at now and we’re still somewhat talking.)

Fuck...now I want to text him. Now I have the urge to just say something and smooth things over...UGH. WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. ME. Is it boredom? I think I’m searching for hope....either that he will change, or that I will take the next step and just magically get over him and not care one day. It would be so much easier if I met another guy. If he met another girl...well...it would be hard as fuck because I know he would just gradually stop texting me and being interested without ever saying anything and potentially never even admitting it...but it might just be the best blessing in disguise ever. My mind is racing with a million thoughts right now. Although I was debating not saying anything to him about the instagram post, it wouldn’t have mattered...because I felt so strongly about my feeling that he is never satisfied, and that its so unfair to me and that I need better. But does better equal nothing? I mean, in theory it definitely does....and those times when i’m upset and disappointed with him, I dream about just being alone. But then almost immediately after we stop talking, the withdrawal kicks in. THIS IS ULTIMATELY WHY I NEED TO END THIS RELATIONSHIP. And my brain knows this sooooo clearly. But my desires and urges, I just can’t control. He’s like a drug and I need him to go on with my day to day life. There’s literally no difference between him and adderall and juuling and caffeine. The more and more I have gotten older the harder it is for me to give up on my dependencies. Apart from when I was young in high school and just had an epiphany to stop using drugs...now it feels so much harder...maybe because I feel like life is more difficult and depressing, and that I have more responsibility. But also maybe....because I’ve trained myself to get used to these dependencies, and now i’m so stuck in my routine that I just don’t want to deal with the hurt and pain of losing everything and not being in my best mood to give off good energies. 

The part where it gets complicated though, is that...the logic should be that if I don’t have a significant other, I have more time to work on myself and everything else in my life. However, my social life makes up about 5% of my life at this moment. I don’t really talk to any of my friends very frequently and I do spend a ton of time working...or maybe just watching TV, etc. It would be nice to be able to focus even more on my work...but when I do this, I don’t think I will be in that happy place I dreamed of. I think I will feel extremely isolated and yearn for more of a social life and/or romantic connection again. 

It’s difficult to let go. The feeling is very dismal right now. But I have to not just follow my deep-rooted urges. Regardless of what I do, I have to think before I act again. 

Of course, he just texted now. What will I do? I haven’t opened the text, but I’m sure when I read it, it won’t fulfill me. It will either be something dismal about his life to try and make me feel bad for him or something to make me angry. 

...of course it was. 

His first text was like, “i’ve been at the dr. office all day :( bye”

(followed by 2 more texts about how sick he is)

I just really have no words for this behavior. It is so manipulative. If i feed off of his “bye” text, it will only just make things worse. But who am I to deal with that? It’s not a big deal, but it is because I don’t want to engage with people who speak to me like that. And with him, I couldn’t just say anything somewhat rational about that response, like, “i’m sorry but when you text me “bye” or dismissive things, I don’t want to engage” AND I couldn’t even say anything easy or candid like, “text me back when you decide you’re over speaking to me like a child.” If I told him he could either text me like an adult or we don’t talk, he would just act like a child and say “ok fine bye we’re not talking because of you.” He would say something hurtful to me that would pry me right in the gut. Whether I would say something back immediately or not, I would be hurt about it. And then the whole cycle begins and continues again. The reason we have so many problems even in the first place is because the majority of the times I don’t want to talk to him, and I literally can’t...because I have to weigh if the immense stress of the argument that will follow me saying something is better than not saying anything at all. Honestly, even many of those times I do say something, and we do talk it out, more problems occur, making things essentially so complicated we just brush things over. This sounds like a regular relationship, but oh, it’s not at all. HE. DOESN’T. EVER. CHANGE.

[wordsforlove]

Awakening

The following text was submitted as my Human Ecology Essay, an essay that forms part of the degree requirements for graduating from College of the Atlantic. Every student at COA graduates with a degree in Human Ecology, and this essay is meant to describe what Human Ecology means to each student. For me, it is inseparable from my spiritual life and my connection to the divine, so it felt natural to post here as well.

It was 2:00AM on Saturday, and I had just spent the night drinking whisky out of the bottle in a basement party in Michigan. This night wasn’t much different than any other Friday night during the year I spent at Kalamazoo College, but instead of coming home and falling into bed, I was aware of an unusual emotion welling up inside my chest. Instead of ignoring it, I allowed myself to go deeper into the feeling and I sat down on the floor. I began to cry, listening to my body tell me the story of how badly I had been treating it for so long. This story didn’t contain words, but it was a visceral grief that reverberated throughout my body, as if each cell was telling me that I was not respecting its sacred role as part of the body that allows me to serve my purpose in the world. I was familiar with this story, as I had heard it every time I rolled a cigarette, every time I stayed up all night popping adderall to get my work done, every time I woke up with a pounding headache and went to class barely able to stay awake. I knew this story well, but I had spent a long time pretending like it was for someone else to listen, not me, never me.

The grief I felt that night was so strong that I made radical changes to my lifestyle in the following months. I gave up alcohol and other drugs completely, including the amphetamine prescription that I had been abusing, sometimes insufflating, to get my work done after pulling all-nighters every week for months. I wasn’t able to remain in the same social groups because of my new choices, and I went from feeling popular and surrounded by others to feeling alone and different. Even as I was leaving behind much of what had previously given me the illusion of fulfillment, I was allowing space for the voice of my inner guidance to grow stronger. Each time I listened to this voice, I found that I came closer to what my heart truly desired––more intimate friendships, a feeling of health in my body, and the knowledge that I was on a path which led to deeper self-awareness and purpose. The voice grew ever stronger, and today it is that voice which I have come to trust as the sound of my inner guidance and my higher self. As I’ve grown and continued on a conscious spiritual path, I have learned to make more decisions from this place of inner guidance rather than rationalizing and trying to control things around me, for the more I trust and surrender to what the universe is creating for me in each moment, the more I create a reality which reflects the life I long for.

The dominant culture has instilled in many of us the idea that if we don’t “go out and get it,” we will never be successful. In walking a spiritual path, I have chosen to reflect the reality that I want to see in my life––to be the change I want to see in the world. This involves a degree of trust in the universe that everything is working toward a greater purpose that I can’t control, but in which I play a critical part. If I am able to trust in the goodness of the universe, I know that everything that comes into my life, no matter how painful, is part of a process of growth and ultimately will lead to healing. This is true in relationships as well––I am often very adept at seeing the faults of others, or the things that I do not like in the world or in the communities that I move through. There is nothing wrong with noticing where others have departed from love or truth, or when a behavior is challenging for us on a relationship level, but I have finally begun to understand that any time I see something in another person that I do not like, it is usually because I see that same tendency in myself. We are each other’s best teachers, for each of us serves as a mirror for those around us, showing us reflections of ourselves refracted into all the manifestations of the human family. Each time a thought arises about a brother or sister that is anything other than love, I am learning to search within myself for that part of me which also contains whichever aspect I notice in the other. For example, if I notice someone acting out in an attempt to be perceived as powerful or cool, I try to remember that I too have those tendencies toward arrogance or egotism which come from a lack of self-love. I remember that if I really felt love for myself, I would be more humble because I wouldn’t feel the need to be liked or perceived as anything other than who I am. Humility is a quality of the heart, not of the mind, for if my heart is at ease and centered in the infinite goodness of love, it cannot be influenced by the mind or the ego which seeks to have control. This process of recognizing my own participation in the judgements I make is the path toward humility, which will allow me to be more compassionate and loving with all beings. What could be a more worthy goal than to be able to love all those around me and be without judgement?

As I learn to be more aware of the origin of my judgements and thoughts, I begin to be more aware of which part of myself is directing my consciousness. When love is seated on the throne of my consciousness, I am moved toward love in each moment. Because love is directing me, I create a reality of love without which responds to the love within. Suddenly, doors that had remained closed begin to open, new relationships begin to form where previously there was no openness to intimacy, connections of the heart become more frequent and conversations are able to go to a deeper level in a shorter period of time. If my ego is seated in the throne of my consciousness, it directs me out of selfishness and tries to control how others see me. Even though the only thing my ego truly wants is to be loved, it is fearful and doesn’t trust that it will be taken care of or acknowledged. If I allow the ego to be in control, I create a reality which responds to my ego instead of my heart, attracting to me only fear, need, and desire instead of trust, hope, and love.

For me, Love is the essential nature of all things. Life is love, as much as it is air and water, fire and earth. This kind of love is different than an emotion, deeper and greater than a human experience. It is the expression of the divine force which creates life itself, it is the essence which pervades all of life with the sound of Om and the mantra “I Am.” This energy of creation exists outside of the realm of religion, polemics, or liturgy. It exists outside the realm of thought, and is greater than the physical realm that we inhabit and perceive (though it pervades each cell of our body and all of life). I do not ‘know’ this in the traditional sense, as with the mind, but in a deeper way which emanates from my body. It is this knowing which began to awaken in me during those years of searching, and today it resides in me as the center around which my life revolves. Human ecology has been a part of this path of awakening, as it gave me the space to unfold into who I am becoming, recognizing that all of life is part of this process and no aspect of my ‘academic life’ needs to be separated from my ‘spiritual life.’ For me, a human ecological worldview is one which acknowledges the one-ness of all aspects of life that are traditionally separated into disciplines. These disciplines are sometimes useful, but without a greater framework of their interdependence, the knowledge they offer is limited and particular. For me, human ecology is even deeper than trans-disciplinarity, as it includes the very life-force energy which I call the divine energy of creation. My experience is not in conflict with science, nor is it exclusive of other beliefs and languages of the divine. For me, human ecology is just another phrase for the experience that all is One. It is a way of seeing the world around us with the understanding that each individual aspect of life can be studied as a manifestation of the mysterious force we call life, the invisible energy which lies between atoms, the love of the creator of the universe manifesting in a thousand ways in each moment. It is a way of studying that has the capacity to meld the mind and the heart, recognizing that when they are aligned, the greatest discoveries can be made about who we are as humans and our place in the world around us.

Awakening is a path because each step holds that which came before and that which is yet to come, unified in an ever-unfolding movement forward. For me, the destination is a state of Being where I am able to live in the reality of the heart, a reality of love and unity with all beings. Though it may seem impossible, I have experienced this reality before––in conversation, in meditation, in ceremony, in nature. The most difficult part is remaining there for more than a moment or an hour or even a day. Within each of us exists a pure energy of love, present from the day we are born––the energy of creation which forms the substrate of the universe. There have been many individuals who have tapped into this energy of creation and attained a state of being in every moment with the Oneness of All That Is. This state of being has been called the Tao, the Christ Consciousness, Enlightenment, and many other names. All of us have the ability to live from this place of essential goodness and peace, for one who is able to truly feel their one-ness with all of life will have no need for self-aggrandizement, control of others, oppressive behaviors, or selfishness. As I awaken to my purpose in this life, I choose in each moment to devote myself to walking the path toward this consciousness. Each person is unique in their process of awakening, but my heart is certain that one day all of humanity will awaken in their own way. Our hearts are weary from so much history of suffering on the planet, but even though it may seem impossible I know there will come a day when we shall have no more need for war, anger, or strife amongst the peoples of this Earth. The only thing I can do to aid in this evolution is to bring myself closer to the consciousness that all is One: that what I do to the Earth and to other living beings I also do to myself. Only then will I be able to teach others to do the same.

[coachforcoaches-blog]

When a Walk and a Cup of Tea Won’t Do

Thanks to a physician who is willing to work with me and the advice of some friends regarding what to discuss with her, I’ve found a medication regimen which, at least thus far, has been working really well for me. In my particular case, I take Adderall for ADD plus Welbutrin for the depression and anxiety that generally come with autism. These last few weeks have been wonderful for me, in that all my obligations and chores, instead of being a crushing weight, simply are things to do, and while I still need a certain amount of willpower to knock everything out, it’s much easier for me to remember what I have to do or want to do, and to be motivated to knock them out.

My experience with medication, like those with many physical and mental conditions, has been a little bumpy. Because of our diverse body chemistries, it’s hard to say what sort of combination will work, and so medication often is a matter of trial and error. I’ve taken Adderall, Xanax, Lexipro, and now Welbutrin and Adderall, with testosterone shots about once a fortnight, plus various remedies one can buy at GNC or at a health-food store – even today, there are jars of magnesium capsules and a few other supplements in my cupboard.

In my experience, the most difficult part of taking medication is coming to terms with the fact that it would help. Just as I hoped talk therapy would make me normal one day – this was before my diagnosis, of course – I hoped I’d be able to handle everything with talk therapy alone, plus some meditation or yoga and some herbal remedies.

Looking back, I suppose I bought into some of the stigma that still exists, regarding mental illness or chronic mental conditions. The prevailing religious school of thought in this country states that one who believes strongly enough can do anything, and if a person believes that, it logically follows that if a person cannot do whatever they set out to do, they just don’t believe strongly enough. We also have a love-hate relationship with “drugs”, and there’s a stereotype going around – I’m not saying it’s true; I’m just saying the stereotype exists – that instead of people learning to control themselves or their children, they’re having doctors dispense drugs like candy to them or to the kids. Of course, there’s also the belief that drug companies are trying to make money by focusing on lifelong treatments instead of cures.

I do understand why people have those attitudes, even if I disagree with them. There are naturally motivated people who indeed can do whatever they decide to do, and it’s very easy for people to take that ability for granted, just as people take their natural social savvy for granted. Since we certainly hear more about people receiving prescriptions, and since authority in some places isn’t as strong as it used to be, it’s easy to believe that people are depending more on drugs instead of themselves. Again, I’m not saying it’s true, just that it’s easy for people to come to that conclusion. As for the stance against drug companies, that simply comes from the fact that the people who run them aren’t angels, and the way some drug prices are rather high, though I note that some of the reasons for the prices have to do regulations and similar causes.

There also is, of course, more of a “back-to-nature” attitude, an attitude that technological advances have harmed us by making us more artificial, and that all we really need is to re-connect with the Earth, or something similar. I suppose it’s a natural result of our tendency not to recognize a danger if we’re too separated from it. In any event, I’ve had people give me advice that amounts to, “Just drink some herbal tea and an occasional walk in the forest, and you’ll be fine. You don’t really need those drugs; those doctors are just making junkies out of you.”

My general answer is that I wish all of that were true. I wouldn’t mind living in a world in which, as a relative once said to me, I could decide tomorrow, to be a go-getter, and I’d be one. I’d love to be able to drink some herbal tea and to take a walk in Fontenelle Forest or Neale Woods, and to feel right as rain. I’d love to think that without paying the insurance company, the pharmacy, and the doctor, I could just be like all those who are naturally motivated and energetic, and just become the way I am by going for a hike with a Thermos full of chamomile tea.

Sad to say, reality gets in the way. Just as our bodies have different levels of energy, so do our minds. There are those whose bodies can move around effortlessly, without the aid of so much as a cup of coffee, and there are those, like me, whose bodies are a little more inert. In the same way, there are those whose minds are apparently endless generators of motivation and positivity, and there are those whose minds need a bit more of a boost.

There are, however, two things I’ll say in defense of those who don’t favor medication. One is, that it probably is a good idea, if possible, to try controlling oneself without it first. I went through years of using only talk therapy and various motivational materials to handle my condition, and started taking meds only after my efforts failed. Among other things, this got me in the habit of continuing to use those strategies while on medication, which is my second defense. We cannot sit there and depend on the drug to do all the work, but we have to work on ourselves – it’s like the way, if an athlete takes steroids, they don’t grow muscle by just sitting there, but they have to head to the gym and bust their tails there in order to grow strong.

I realize, of course, that there are other reasons why some folks don’t take medication, and because the different solutions to cost and availability of medications are so controversial, I’m remaining silent about them here – I already have discussed politics too much this week.  

In any event, I know many people who are able to live full lives, with minimal disruption, because a doctor was able and willing to work with them on finding the right medication for them, and because they were willing to understand that sometimes, nature isn’t enough, and when we bring in the scientists, even if their bosses aren’t angels, wonderful things can happen.