I’ll be in a different space when this publishes. Different job, different experiences… different lifestyle? The space I’m in as I’m writing this in late August is mostly a negative space. The veneer is nice and I’m meeting great people that are generous with sharing themselves, yet deep down, it doesn’t feel right. There are malaise and disquiet rumbling underneath my psyche. Why isn’t it good? Let’s explore, to help the “me” of October 13th.
The day before I sobered up is one I’ll always remember, not so much sequentially, but more cerebrally than that. I was working at the thrift store at the time, directionless, unmotivated, blaming others for the problems I wasn’t addressing, and just squandering my life. It was a difficult job. When I wasn’t jumping into moldy trailers or being lambasted for working “slowly,” I was trash-compacting high-quality goods. Then… maybe a glimpse into something greater…
When things get a little too weird for me, this phrase gets me in a good space: “reality is subjective.” If everyone observed the same reality equally except for me, then I’d be feeling pretty left out, you know, but it’s not! If you and I observed the same situation, we both have subjective filters. I wear glasses for vision impairment, which innocently changes my perspective of reality, but let’s dig into this deeper still.
I like to use the joke that I have a set of gnomes in my head that do all my work. Some will figure out incredible (actually, incredible) solutions to problems I’m trying to figure out, others will keep my focus, while others maintain the general health and wellness of my mind and body. It’s mostly a joke to help explain what’s going on deeper. What happens when one of those gnomes calls out sick?
“Just wondering, do I look h~hung ~o~ver?”
“Nah. Just tired.”
The two furniture movers were looking around a gas station for coffee and assorted junk snacks for their morning routes that dry Evillian morning.
“Go~od, be~cause~e,” she chuckled nervously, “I was o~out part-tying to~o~ late~ las~t n~night.”
“Wouldn’t have noticed, actually.”
“You s~should- join me next time. It’ll b~e fun~n.”
Jane subconsciously patted the small sobriety book in her jeans pocket.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The best and worst thing for maintaining one’s sobriety is employment. There is no better crutch to rest your mind upon than your employment, where any subconscious faults in your life can usually be reasonably blamed on some external factor like a boss, colleague, or situation. Yet that constant career pressure can break us down if we don’t moderate our workaholic tendencies. Spend an extra five minutes for polishing something? How about… five more minutes?
I can’t have the one thing that best eases my nerves. Nor can I have the second, third, or fourth-place things to acquiesce that occasional itch that burns so deep within my psyche to drag me through the inner depths of psychology that can’t be cured through a leisurely day outside, hanging out with friends. When the sun and the sky mean nothing, that’s when it’s time to shift focus to the only valuable thing: