Least this time, I gave fair warning it might be awhile before I can sit before Avram and wax philosophical. I'm not exactly sure why I am able to write today, here on the Broadway strip, but like many things lately, I'm trying not to ask too many questions. I'm surprised I didn't write when I committed a personal heresy of mammoth proportions by telling my shrink that I think he (not him per se, but therapy in general) could be part of the problem, and I wasn't sure I should see him again. I've been in therapy since I was six, when my ADHD situation blossomed fully. I'm coming to this point where I have to question even the basic "help" structure I've been immersed in, especially after the Great Breakdown of '92, which has delivered one of the two messages that have both given me strength when needed, and failed when that strength turned poisonous. The idea that I should still aspire to some form of mainstream acceptance, and take the world on its own terms, is mostly on me for its creation, because of my unconscious cravings to be finally embraced by others, parents and peers alike, and which for all my current rebelliousness was the defining motive of my life during much of my childhood. The failure of the first idea probably gave birth to the second one, formed in opposition to the first, that the failures of acceptance were not born of me, by flaws in the world, which therefore meant that I should foresake the decrepit world, and the soulless minions, to form something in me wholly my own since I could count on no-one else to be there for me. I've often said of the pre-GB days, that I can't see how I saw back then now, but I'm wrong there, since I see more least why I saw as I did.
Now, I might not return to therapy for a wholly different reason: the failure of the third way of thinking. As pretenscious as using the US Civil War as a metaphor for my internal battles is, It works. Two diametrically opposed sides, with powerful factions defining the will of the other factions below them, trying to main some kind of union in the face of an expanding frontier and the high-cost success of the original properties, forming a totally uneasy alliance through hostile compromise that only held as long until the frontier became too large to hold under the synthesis of the two philosophies, and bloody battle that consumed the whole came when reality set in that neither could share the same space. Let alone how the fight was defined in glorious sacred ideology, but came down to a fight between old and new for which was best. Its not that the third way didn't work for me, it did but like the first two, only up to a point. And now I am past that point. The third way was necessary to hold me together as a functioning unit, one that did many good things in that time, including completion of my first two years of college, and the gains in independence that made Seattle possible. My greatest error, and an easy one for an overly introverted intellectual to make, was the same I had made in the last two ways, where I wrapped my survival in lush and complex philosophy to hide the justification of the places where the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit. Even this blog can be seen as a working of that third way, even if I still feel the gains in placing my position in existence down in some sideways public means.
So do I start looking for the fourth way now? I'm not so sure. The third way broke down recently due to finding that I didn't want the answers so I asked the wrong questions. Now I wonder if I should worry about getting the answers in the first place. If the fulfillment of my life is freedom, then am I restricting that freedom by bogging myself down in needing definitive answers? Maybe I still want the answers, not to know, but to suspend the need for having faith and trust in life's own meaning. Trust is interwoven heavily in my narrative, mattering mostly on the tense and subject of the predicate, but in the end, I've come to trust in nothing. That means I lack faith. But how could I have made it so far without some modicum of faith in the possibility of something bigger and better?
I won't press this much farther, least for right now, because I could easily fall into the cloud of frustration and waste that comes from not having a job, and worrying about how I will pay rent and eat without turning back to the sources I left so I wouldn't need to turn back to them. Nothing is simpler than leaving some of this until I least find a job of some sorts, nearly of any sorts, and returning the base stability needed to think and feel more clearly. There's a few small things I might try to do, but I doubt I will, as my general motivation is lacking in the face of unemployment.
I finished two books in the last couple weeks, and here I am writing, even if it is just some existential handjob or not, so I might be doing self-flagellation for my current woes, but least I've taken off the hair shirt. I'm even going to leave a resume at the internet cafe I am at now. You never know.
Now, I might not return to therapy for a wholly different reason: the failure of the third way of thinking. As pretenscious as using the US Civil War as a metaphor for my internal battles is, It works. Two diametrically opposed sides, with powerful factions defining the will of the other factions below them, trying to main some kind of union in the face of an expanding frontier and the high-cost success of the original properties, forming a totally uneasy alliance through hostile compromise that only held as long until the frontier became too large to hold under the synthesis of the two philosophies, and bloody battle that consumed the whole came when reality set in that neither could share the same space. Let alone how the fight was defined in glorious sacred ideology, but came down to a fight between old and new for which was best. Its not that the third way didn't work for me, it did but like the first two, only up to a point. And now I am past that point. The third way was necessary to hold me together as a functioning unit, one that did many good things in that time, including completion of my first two years of college, and the gains in independence that made Seattle possible. My greatest error, and an easy one for an overly introverted intellectual to make, was the same I had made in the last two ways, where I wrapped my survival in lush and complex philosophy to hide the justification of the places where the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit. Even this blog can be seen as a working of that third way, even if I still feel the gains in placing my position in existence down in some sideways public means.
So do I start looking for the fourth way now? I'm not so sure. The third way broke down recently due to finding that I didn't want the answers so I asked the wrong questions. Now I wonder if I should worry about getting the answers in the first place. If the fulfillment of my life is freedom, then am I restricting that freedom by bogging myself down in needing definitive answers? Maybe I still want the answers, not to know, but to suspend the need for having faith and trust in life's own meaning. Trust is interwoven heavily in my narrative, mattering mostly on the tense and subject of the predicate, but in the end, I've come to trust in nothing. That means I lack faith. But how could I have made it so far without some modicum of faith in the possibility of something bigger and better?
I won't press this much farther, least for right now, because I could easily fall into the cloud of frustration and waste that comes from not having a job, and worrying about how I will pay rent and eat without turning back to the sources I left so I wouldn't need to turn back to them. Nothing is simpler than leaving some of this until I least find a job of some sorts, nearly of any sorts, and returning the base stability needed to think and feel more clearly. There's a few small things I might try to do, but I doubt I will, as my general motivation is lacking in the face of unemployment.
I finished two books in the last couple weeks, and here I am writing, even if it is just some existential handjob or not, so I might be doing self-flagellation for my current woes, but least I've taken off the hair shirt. I'm even going to leave a resume at the internet cafe I am at now. You never know.
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