mixtapeonwheels - Tumblr blog

[mixtapeonwheels]

Depression

Maybe I’ve written about this topic, maybe I haven’t. Too lazy to check, if we’re being honest.

Depression is a funny thing. And I say funny in a sort of cynical way, because it’s not fun or humorous, or enjoyable really, but it isn’t the biggest inconvenience I’ve ever experienced. 

Yesterday, I had an ‘off’ day. Maybe its’ become consistent enough that I can recognize when they’re about to appear. Maybe that’s part of the problem - I expect them to appear and it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Regardless, it was a beautiful day. I had a client in the AM that would take me to noon, I had a decent sleep so my body shut down any decisions to get up early like we had planned. I had a party later to go to, and there wasn’t really much of a chance to still get my training in and go enjoy the sunshine. 

I would kind of describe that day like a heaviness on my entire world. It’s like wearing a weighted vest while standing in a tornado. Things are swirling around you at lightning speed (ie. thoughts), and you can’t move as fast as you want to. You’re not capable of as much as you normally are. 

The feeling can be overwhelming, all consuming. But if there’s anything I’m proud of myself for, it’s that I’ve been through enough of these days to know what’s required. Some days you thrive, and some days you truly just fucking survive. So, what do I do?

I had commitments. In one case, it was to a client. In another, it was to a friend. And in a final one, it was to myself. So we worked with the client, we went to the party, we made it to the gym. We may be individuals run by our emotions, but I still think it a responsibility to our own sense of control to rebel against that demand for full autonomy by them. 

Beyond that, I let my emotions run the show. We wanted an energy drink before the gym? Sure. We wanted to go workout at a commercial gym, rather than our basement set up? Yeah, that’s fine. We wanted to finish the workout and make ourselves 15 minutes later for the party? A reasonable request.

When I was younger and dealt with these days, my whole world would get thrown into complete madness. I’d have no idea how to deal with any of it. My natural lean is to not see anyone, throw myself into a nice little pity party in my room, watch movies all day, ignore all my commitments, and feel like shit about every single one of those moves at the end of the day.

I think I eventually decided that just wasn’t fair. I could be smarter. It might take a bit more effort, but there was something that could be done. I will always believe in a third alternative when it doesn’t feel like there is one - you just have to be creative enough to find it. 

I don’t want any of this to sound like I’ve figured it out. I haven’t. I’ve figured out a particular situation that may or may not work every time. Depression is adaptable, it is fluid, and it is ever-changing. It will present me with new challenges as I go through my life, as my friends grow up and move on to different stages, and as I do the same. But in the same way that depression is an amoeba that will adapt to the situation it’s in, well, so am I.

[mixtapeonwheels]

i’ve wanted to try pixel art for a while, so here’s my first attempt (ever)! don’t try to follow the stars with your eyes.. it may make you dizzy.

[mixtapeonwheels]

Dating in 2020

It’s tough to be honest about how I feel with a lot of my friends, a lot of my family members. 

I think the issue is that, and I’ll ask for forgiveness for gender-stereotyping, a lot of the men in my life try to ‘fix’ these things. And beyond that, I don’t that people either get frustrated that I struggle with a lot of the sample topics, or that I seemingly spin in circles. I assure you, no one is more frustrated than me. But admittedly, I slide back to the same things.

Sometimes, like right now, life gets really difficult. I made my choices years ago - I more or less stopped a lot of binge drinking. I don’t drink too much anymore. I don’t really party; that’s not my scene, nor do I really want it to be. But I miss the comradery of it, I miss that you were about to head out to have the best night you can imagine. Maybe the spirit was to get as fucked up as possible, maybe it was to celebrate, and maybe it was no intention at all, and just allowing the night to take you where it did. But frankly, I don’t really have the financial means to do that, nor the real desire. I’ve done it a few times since and all I end up with is a harsh reminder and a blistering headache (if that’s all I get, I’m lucky) the next morning. 

My friends are doing things that I’m not. They’re moving on with their lives in different ways - maybe it’s buying houses, maybe it’s having children, maybe it’s getting married. I made the choices I did for the reasons I did, and I don’t regret them. Every relationship I’ve had that hasn’t made its way to marriage hasn’t made it there for good reasons. But I feel left behind. I feel alone. And I find it difficult to find people that chase similar things to what I do, but are also close to my age and in the same place I am. It’s a lonely road I’ve chosen, and in some ways I think that I knew that, but at the same time didn’t...if that makes sense.

Dating is difficult now. On a personal level I don’t think I’ve ever been more confident in the person that I am; I know what I bring to the table and I won’t accept less than someone who has the things that I want in a partner; someone I can truly see myself growing with.

That being said, and what makes it difficult is the things that ANY person trying to date now goes through. People are not necessarily mean or cruel, but mostly just distracted. We’re still relatively in the middle of a pandemic, as well as heavy civil unrest. And beyond that, dating apps are absolutely overwhelming. They give you a million options, maybe a few matches, and you have to sift through the people who grew up pretty and have no reason to have developed a personality, the ones who are simply looking for validation that a lot of people want to date them, and the ones who burn time with anyone until something better comes along.

I think my own struggle comes from what level of investment I put forth. If I like someone, I want to get to know them, talk to them, share my experiences and my viewpoints. I’m looking for something real. The struggle comes in finding that balance between getting excited to meet someone, and not getting crushed if something doesn’t happen. Recently I stopped deciding to even try to date or meet anyone. And the reason was, a few separate times I got excited to meet someone and they either ghosted or at the last second cancelled the date. Maybe that’s on me for having expectations that people would stand by their word, or maybe it’s on me for getting a little excited at the idea of meeting someone new. Whatever it is, something was off with my own process and I need to recalibrate that before I try again in that world.

Now the question becomes, what if everyone is doing this? How do we as a society deal with this?

I really do think there’s not enough people engaging in their mental health and ensuring that the baggage they carry and the shit they’ve been put through is not being projected on to someone else. But that also takes recognizing your demons and dealing with them. And that takes a level of bravery and courage that some people just don’t have. 

[mixtapeonwheels]

Welcome back, reader.

Hi, it’s been a while.

Not intentionally, I suppose. I just find that I can’t write in my house, or in my office, or anywhere else really. It’s hard to create the vibe that I want, and it’s hard to preserve that time to myself and sent that intention. Yeah, it’s probably the latter, if we’re being realistic.

There’s been a lot of changes over the past few months. A ton of fucking madness, really. I mean, you have the pandemic, mixed with an incredible rise in civil unrest and a demand for justice for George Floyd, and all the other black individuals that have died at the hands of law enforcement, or other forms of racist action.

Honestly though, that’s not really what I want to talk about. I STILL don’t feel as if I know enough to really...not have an opinion, but be able to speak it. I’ll support the causes, I will donate, and I will read the articles, and educate myself. And that’s my commitment, and I don’t feel the need to...tell anyone about it? Or at least not on a mass scale. Like I said, I’ll promote the causes with the platform I’ve been given, but my thoughts don’t really matter. I want to have the conversations and understand it better and help others to understand it, and continue to promote that fight. But my opinion is irrelevant. Except I guess to you, dear reader. 

I went through a lot of struggle, and a bit of triumph during the pandemic. I did a lot of things. I meditated, walked outside my house a few mornings around my block with a cup of coffee in hand. I did, and do continue to watch a ton of Brooklynn 99. Some days, I struggled. I ended up in my head going through the old break ups that had rocked my world because I was at such a limit of seeing other people. Some days, I still struggle with that. 

That being said, something amazing came out of that. I spoke with a good friend of mine who reminded me of something I had said years ago, to myself, in an altered state.

“Sometimes, you have to be the little kid in the corner of the playground, crying into his backpack because a girl he loves broke his heart.”

I said that statement, tears filling my glasses, as I lay on the floor sobbing. It wasn’t a good look for me, but it was very healing in the moment.

Within each of us, lies a small child. That small child is our emotions. In the driver seat, we have the child, emotion. In the passenger seat, we have the adult, logic. 

Logic cannot drive the car. Logic can give directions, and emotion can choose to listen, or he can choose to veer off course and kill us both (metaphorically, of course). So, what do we do?

We help emotion see things for what they are. When something terrible happens, we recognize it as just that - something terrible. The little man needs to be told what he feels. He needs that validated. We need to feel that with him.

And from there, when that moment passes, however long it takes, we can move forward. We can start to work on that logic, when he’s ready to hear it.

In my instance, I had my heart broken a number of months ago. It hurt, it sucked. Maybe this is the first time I’ve openly talked about it on this blog, and maybe it’s the first time I’m okay with doing so. I was amazing at reminding myself why it was okay, why we weren’t good together, why it NEEDED to end.

But that didn’t help my little man. He still felt hurt. He still needed the validation behind that. So we worked on that. After a phone call, I sat there and cried for a few minutes. I needed that moment to allow that little man to feel what he needed to feel. Together, we moved forward. And we were better for it.

Now, this all sounds like it happened in one go. Did it? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It happened multiple times. It still happens. I wake up after a weird dream and say, “Well, there’s the feeling of loss.” We feel it together. We sit in the ugliness that is that emotion. We recognize the beauty that comes within myself to FEEL that range of emotions. And once the moment has passed, I remind that little man, “You’re scared. I get it. You’re afraid that we’re going to be doing this forever, walking through this life alone. But, I recognize that fear, I welcome it. And I challenge it, every single time. You may not be brave. You may be hurt, fearful, and quiet. And that my boy, is okay. I will be brave. I will take the risks. I will put our heart on the line. I will not let you be alone forever. We will find our one. I won’t let you spend your days alone.”

But, there’s always devil’s advocate to play. What if we do spend our life alone? What if there’s no one else? 

That’s okay too. It’s not ideal of course, it’s not what we want. I recognize that. And that’s why we’ll make our life about other things as well - passions, giving back to the world that has given us so much, bringing light to the relationships and world around us. I have passions that extend beyond myself, beyond my love life, and things that I want to do that are HUGE. Simply, enormous dreams. And those dreams give me something else to work towards, a life that involves no one else, but logic and emotion. 

It’s a tough thing, being an emotional being in the world we have today. Especially during a quarantine, when getting out to see people is really, a luxury only reserved for essential workers (I was one of those, but still). After the advice from a very good friend, I decided to stop really ‘trying’ to date. Am I open to going out with someone? Sure. Am I actively searching for someone to go on a date with? Not really. It’s more so a case of...see who comes across my path, and respond accordingly, if that makes sense. 

I think the issue of online dating is the constant idea that something better could be on the next swipe (some of us are natural maximizers). On top of that, having someone behind a screen and never having met them in person gives a sense that they’re not real, they don’t have emotions, they’re not truly human.

Of course they are. We all know that. But there’s too many options, there’s too many people. We can’t really treat them like real people, if that makes sense. Especially if you’re popular on dating apps. We don’t have the emotional bandwidth.

So what came out of that for me? I absolutely wasn’t my best in certain conversations. I’m still at fault here in many ways. But on the reverse, I also had girls plan dates with me and then just...ghost. Which didn’t at the time, and will never make sense to me, even from a logical perspective.

So here we sit, i suppose. Ready to take on the world, in whatever capacity it wants to show up for me, and i for it. I look to be an active participant who can keep a good head on his shoulders and a good heart in his chest. And hope not that the world provides assurance, but provides the opportunity to get what I want, in whatever form it chooses. Opportunity does not come in one size or shape or color, it is ever-present, and we must decide to recognize it upon its arrival. 

[mixtapeonwheels]

How do you destroy love before it truly blossoms

Okay, so, spoiler alert, I don’t THINK I want kids.

And i really hate how when you tell people that, they immediately jump to the “oh, you will eventually, I was the same way when I was younger.”

Man, I’m 28. I definitely haven’t spent much time on Earth in the grand scheme of things, and maybe it’ll change, but I’m not about to get anyone I date hyped up on the fact that I’m ready to start baking a bun in the oven. I’m not. I’m too focused on my own life and the goals i want to accomplish, and I think part of me sees a child as standing in the way of that.

Do I want to be a uncle? Hell yes. That’ll be cool as shit. Take them little tykes on adventures, buy them sweet presents, and be that awesome uncle that always comes back with a cool story or a new souvenir for them. That sounds wicked. 

But, the one thing I’ve consistently thought about is - how do you tell a child the love they experience with a girlfriend of a boyfriend, won’t last forever?

It can’t. And maybe it shouldn’t. If I think back to the person I was the first time i was in love, I was immature, and inexperienced, and I don’t think I had any real idea of what I wanted out of life. She was wonderful, but she was very jealous, and we fought often. It’s easy to paint a picture of a perfect relationship because I still have her as a friend. In fact, I still consider her one of the most genuinely good people I’ve ever met. But that relationship was a rollercoaster, and when it ended, it was meant to. We both needed to grow, to be with other people, to live our lives. We needed to experience heartbreak, and go on wild adventures, and experience the world beyond the view we saw through each other. And I’m thankful that though we were distant for some time, we were able to come back and have some semblance of a friendship. 

But I’ve also been in other relationships. I’ve had some that were good for a time, and turned to bad. I’ve had others that were the definition of emotionally abusive and manipulative. How did my parents sit there and watch that happen, all the while hoping, and maybe even knowing that it wouldn’t last? How does anyone watch someone struggle, and know that they NEED to struggle to find themselves in the darkness?

I was a kid that always did, always does, think about love. I’ve been in love before, and each one, for a time, was wonderful. Sometimes love can get stale, if not tended to in the right ways by both parties. I think the most important thing I’ve realized is how to keep love fresh, and how to work at it, day by day, like a garden that you need to water and take care of. Sometimes I miss it, and other times I don’t. I miss parts of it, like the feeling that another human being wholly knows you, inside and out. That you can tell them anything, and be anything around them, and they’ll love you regardless of the weirdness and quirkiness that you reveal. Maybe they’ll love you because of that. And there are other times I don’t miss it. I don’t miss the uneasiness that comes with a fight. The feeling that your heart isn’t under your own control anymore - it’s in the palm of another, and whether they choose to tend to it or to crush it is not your decision. Most of all, I don’t miss the feeling when you know it’s going to end. When your entire body gets warm during that silence, the silence that follows the question, “What’s going on?” or, “Are things okay between us?”

I don’t understand how you explain any of that to a kid. In a small way, it’s like when I tutor my students. They come to me sometimes with different life questions, depending on the relationship we’ve built. It’s never the guys, it’s always the girls. But sometimes they ask me about boyfriends, or dating, or life in general. If I’m dating, they ask how we met, when I knew I liked her, weird things like that. Sometimes I tell them, sometimes I don’t. It depends on the situation, the student, the relationship we’ve built. And I trust my own moral compass and my skills of reading individuals to know if they’re asking for the right reasons.

But how do I look at one of those students, and tell them that I’ve heard this story before, the reasons they’re not good together, and that it won’t last. If it doesn’t, it was never meant to. He’s too immature, and soon you’ll realize why women date up in age. The maturity just isn’t there, especially in your early 20s. And if anyone reading this decides they want to challenge me on that, please do. But I’ve had too many experiences, some my own, some of others, to believe that early 20s men and women can handle the relationship that I think they THINK they want. There’s too much life to live. Realistically, I think you’re meant to spend your 20s figuring yourself out. Having experiences, meeting people, and then discovering what elements of everything you’ve been through you want to retain. Maybe you want the travel of the vagabond lifestyle, but not the potential homelessness. Maybe you want the passion that comes along with that relationship, but not the abuse, not the manipulation, not the fights. Maybe you want the stability that comes with owning property, but not the white picket fence, the 2.5 children, or the minivan freshly-washed in the driveway. 

How does anyone tell a child that? How did my mom not tell me when i came to her at 10 years old telling her that I was in love with a girl named Christina, that it wouldn’t work? That it couldn’t? I admire the fact that she let me suffer, but never tried to logic it out. Never told me that it was statistically impossible to meet my match at a young age and marry that same person. Maybe she realized there was no way for her to know anyways. Maybe she had the wisdom to see that if this love was meant to last, if it was meant to grow, who was she to say otherwise? 

That’s where I get lost. I think I’ve known for a very long time that my parents were just guessing at what they were doing. I think there were two very distinctive moments i noticed growing up around them: I knew when my parents’ dating advice became real, and I knew when they decided they were ‘done parenting’. 

The first came for my mom, when she gave me the best advice she’s given me to date. I was 20 years old. I was desperately in love with the girl I was dating, but we were having problems that were insurmountable for our age. We were fighting constantly. I was so torn. I loved her, but we NEEDED to break up. We needed to grow. And she said, “Look, there’s two ways this goes. Either you fix things because you KNOW you’re getting married, or you break up because you don’t.” And in that moment, I knew what my decision had to be. For my dad, it was when I was 22, and I had gotten into a massive fight with my then girlfriend. He told me to be silent for a few days, eventually making her think I was going to break up with her, when i just wanted time to think and process - maybe even make her suffer a bit (cruel, I know). Spoiler alert - it didn’t work.

The second moment came slowly over time. My mom started telling me about the arguments she had with different people. And when I would tell her she was acting a fool and needed to grow up in that particular situation, she listened. My dad on the other hand, started telling me more dating stories, more stories of fights he got into as a young man. They didn’t make me think less of him - if anything, both of these occurrences made me think more of my parents. They believed in our relationship enough and valued me enough as a son to know that I needed to see their real sides. We had finally reached this point where we could transition from a purely parent-child relationship to some sort of parent-friend-companion hybrid. I consider them two of my closest friends because of the amount I share with them, and also because of the amount they share with me. 

In closing, if there ever really is a closing to any of my blog posts, I try not to edit these things. These are unedited thoughts, and for anyone that likes to read them, you can see the way my brain jumps around a bit. Depending on where my anxiety is at in my life, it will jump around more, or less. I know at this moment, I have no desire to be a parent. I don’t know if that will change in the future, but I don’t want to be strung up by some potential partner through my own words of uncertainty, so I rarely tell anyone that. I need my life to develop in certain ways before I could ever consider giving it all up, even for a few years, for a small, potato-faced object (fun fact, that was taken from a mom friend of mine). There’s a little honesty for you, I guess.

[mixtapeonwheels]

Where have I been?

The title suggests that I have masses of followers who are SO concerned with where I’ve been, and why I haven’t been posting. Well, that’s not true, but we’ll pretend for the sake of the conversation that it is.

Where have I been? Just...busy. And maybe not so inside my own head for the last little while.

I bought a new car. Which was a huge step, because I actually spent real money getting something that gives me a smile every time I drive it. It feels like I spoiled myself. That’s a huge rarity for me. I spent two weekends having to drive to a different city, but in the end, it was absolutely worth it.

Something terrible happened to a very good friend. I’ve been trying to be there for them as much as I possibly could be, and it’s had a nice by-product of taking me out of my own brain in the mean time. Consideration and concern for someone else’s needs above your own is a weird benefit to that, I suppose. 

Finally, I found a sport that I’ve never participated in before that I absolutely love - boxing.

Let’s talk about the last one first. I had decided to play around with a few different activities after becoming single. Finding something I liked to do, that would get my heart rate up (please, hold off on the low-hanging fruit here), but would give me the chance to meet other people. 

I checked out Champ’s boxing and it was alright - my heart rate was up, I felt empowered as fuck, but I didn’t feel like I was...getting anything. I was punching a bag, but it was so light that I was moving it around pretty easily, and I was getting ZERO technical instruction.

I then went over to Panther’s Gym, and it was a completely different experience. I walked in and my glasses fogged up almost immediately - there was literally no air flow in this place.

I wandered down the stairs, and it was like a scene straight out of Rocky. There were bags everywhere, an old man who looked to be in his 50s or 60s yelling at fighters, posters of fights from the 80s everywhere, and the general air that the people here were fucking serious about this.

It was perfect.

I think for the hour that I was there, I became a different person. I threw myself headlong into looking like an idiot if it required, I just wanted to punch right and be somewhat technically sound. Thankfully powerlifting had given me a lot of gifts in this realm in terms of my ability to ‘stay in my glutes’ and throw mean hooks that didn’t leave my shoulder feeling out of place.

The heavy bag was where things got a little bit real for me. It’s been a long time since I felt that ability to have an emotional release on some inanimate object. For a few moments there I entered a true flow state - where time just sort of passes and you’re locked up in exactly what you’re doing. Time melts away, and we become our emotions entirely. With every hit on that bag, I was washing away frustrations, I was coming back at the people whom hurt myself and the ones that i care about, especially in these last few months.

I left, and I knew I was hooked. It was a matter of time until I’d be back, until I’d get to feel that release. I didn’t need a class, didn’t need a sparring partner. All I needed was the ability to put on my gloves, lock my shoulders, and fire away. Allow my frustrations to become just at the end of my gloves. It was pure bliss. I felt like I was at home, and I’d never been here before.

I can’t wait to go back.

[mixtapeonwheels]

Why do I do this?

This is a short one, but I think it’s important for any actual readers of this blog to know that I don’t write this for anyone but myself. I have this blog, and a more private one that I barely ever write on. But I write these because it’s my own thoughts. I spent a ton of years trying to figure out why I felt so different from the world, only to eventually learn I wasn’t. The issue was, no one was honest about their experience within it.

So welcome to my experience it. If nothing else, I hope you see this and realize you’re not alone. We ALL have these questions. Some don’t speak them, some do, and some get so drunk and high they attempt to forget they exist. This is the human experience, and we handle it in whatever fashion feels best at the moment.

Again, for the people in the back, we are all just doing our fuckin’ best, man.

[mixtapeonwheels]

Break me.

I’ve referenced the idea of being broken before in other blog posts. I’ve felt broken a few times in my life. And I think until you’ve been there, and would describe yourself as that, it’s hard to envision. 

Being completely broken to me is finding it an effort to take that first breath in the morning. There are times in my life where I’ve begrudgingly woken up to take in another day, when I didn’t want to, didn’t see a point in doing so, but did anyways. It’s this heaviness that sits on your heart and clouds everything you do. Steps feel harder, conversations are more trying, and at every turn you’re asking the world to swallow you up so you just don’t have to bear the weight of existence anymore.

Now, let’s bring it back to some logic here. Part of my life is clinical depression. From my experience, it makes my lows wildly lower, but it also makes my highs periods of crazy elation. Let’s carry that through as a caveat, as it does absolutely have an effect on my definition of broken. Further to that, my parents always taught me resiliency. I will ALWAYS get back up and continue moving forward, regardless of how I feel about it. Sometimes it feels fake, and hard, but I do it anyways because there are bright horizons in my future. 

Does brokeness fade? Of course - time does really heal all wounds (so long as you let it, and take the appropriate steps to allow it to do so). But I think though it fades, it leaves a scar. You don’t forget that feeling. It has always given me a new appreciation for moments that were joyful because I remember the weight that can sit on my shoulders at times, like the first morning you wake up with a clear nose after an awful cold. I actively take steps to cycle through my emotions and my whole body to remind myself of this moment at a later, more trying time. 

Because of my own experiences,One of my biggest fears is hurting other people. I’ve done it before, sometimes knowing what I was going to have to do and sometimes having no idea of who I was about to cause suffering to. 

But at what point is that my responsibility? I’m an empath, meaning that I feel people’s emotions and pain so much that I almost take it on as my own. But people are adults, right? If they know the risks, they should be able to handle the fallout, if one occurs.

So why does it never feel like that? If I hurt someone, why do I have such a hard time justifying it as, “They knew what they were doing, they knew the risks, and here we are, at a negative consequence that was visible all along.” I know I’ve hurt them. I can see the pain in their eyes, and feel the soft whimper that is just beyond their lips. I’ve felt both those things so many times, and i know what they look like. So many times I reject advances or shut down ideas because I feel like I can see more that they can. It’s like an internal alarm bell that goes off and says, “You know what’s about to happen - leave their heart better than you found it, not worse.”

Sometimes I wonder if I try to carry the responsibility and weight of the world on my shoulders. I know I’m a 4 (reference to the enneagram test), so I know that I see myself as different from the rest of the world. And maybe in that sits this idea that I should be better than the rest of the masses. Like somehow, I should only do things that are good for the world, deny myself all pleasures that have the potential to hurt others, and lead this perfect life where I never hurt anyone. And even as I type that, I know it’s impossible. Others have broken me, and while it is not my responsibility therefore to break others (hurt people hurt people, for example), it is likely a by-product of me figuring out my place in the world.

Recently, a good friend of mine told me that through an experience and the way I felt about it, it shows that I’m learning how to put up walls. Look at that! 28 years old, and finally figuring out how to put up a fucking wall and not let everyone break in. I still don’t know if I like that assessment, or if it feels right. But here I am, trying new things because I’m so tired of trying to pretend I’m so much better than human. It’s exhausting, and not sustainable. 

If I’ve ever hurt you, know that I still carry a part of your hurt with me. 

[mixtapeonwheels]

Science Vs. Culture

Let me start off by saying I googled this to be sure, but I am not talking about left brain versus right brain here. I understand the left brain is more analytical and logical, while the right brain is more creative and emotional.

My question today is whether or not people are more likely driven towards art and creative endeavors, or if they’re more driven towards science, data, and analytics. Over my time on this big, blue, spinning ball, it seems I’ve met people who enjoy reading peer-reviewed articles, listening to podcasts filled with numbers and data, and generally dealing in hard facts and scientific practices.

Beyond that, I see myself, and have met others that live on an opposing frequency. I seek out beauty in the form of art, poetry, literature, and nature. I feel deep, moving emotions when I listen to certain songs. If you ask me why a track by Jack’s Mannequin or Gaslight Anthem means something to me, I can tell you. 

So, the hypothesis naturally comes if people lean more one way to the other. Sometimes I think it affects connection. Someone who is a ‘science-brain’ might not understand why someone else COULD listen to a podcast on the migration patterns of the great white shark (an objectively interesting topic), but would PREFER to take in the local art gallery, or take a walk in the river valley. Further, someone who is an ‘art-brain’ might sit there and question why anyone would ever go to an art gallery - art is subjective and you are challenged to find your own meaning in whatever piece is in front of you. It can be a powerful, reflective experience, but I think you need to be open to that possibility.

So what does this mean? Does this mean we have an inability to connect with someone who swings to the other side? Maybe yes, maybe no.

I have friends, colleagues, family members that play to both sides. My older brother is a sports fanatic; he loves his fantasy league, keeping up on the games of the week, and anticipating how the Oilers might do in the coming season. To me, this seems analytical. 

I have a best friend who loves to go to plays. He would, and has attended art shows with me. We discuss the idea of philosophy, and music. We’ve debated the emotions intended to be evoked by certain pieces and what we’ve both felt from them. 

The final thought here is I wonder if there’s a depth or an explanation that exists from one side to the other. Someone asked me what a song that means the most to me is, I gave the answer of “Remember Me” by Augustana. Why? When my grandfather passed away, and I was in the East for his funeral, I would go to the gym at 5 am. I would hear that song come on, in the middle of my workout. And in the middle of an empty gym, sweaty, with my headphones in and no one else around, I would break. Completely.

Does it mean I couldn’t do that in front of other people? Nah, I don’t really have any issue with crying in front of others. It was my time. It was my time to feel for the things that I needed to feel, it was my way to grieve, so when the time came I could support my family members and be their rock. 

After explaining all of that, I looked at this other individual and asked them what their song was. Did they have one? Yes. Could they give an explanation? Not in the slightest.

Music, like art, is subjective. It has completely different meanings depending on who you are and the life you’ve lived. I don’t fault her for not having an answer, but I do question whether an answer existed - or if she could articulate it if it did.

Now, why am I writing this. Why even explore this topic.

Frankly, it scares me. It scares me that someone who has that science-brain can’t connect with an art-brain, can’t love one, and vice versa. Are we strung by which side we sit with? Can one learn to be a bit more of the other, and truly love that shift?

No idea. Maybe I’ll find out some day.

Sincerely, an art-brain.

[mixtapeonwheels]

[mixtapeonwheels]

Psychology Daily - Quotes

[mixtapeonwheels]

Kintsugi

I often wonder when it comes to who we are and what we do, what warrants change and what must stay the same. I’ve spent years looking deep within myself and figuring out the things I wasn’t a fan of, or that didn’t seem healthy. When I was much younger, I saw things as super black and white. I believed that fate and a master plan were absolutely real, drugs were bad, and travel was just something I didn’t care to do. As you can imagine, all of those things, and many more, have shifted and changed to shades of grey over time.

But in the same instance, I’m beginning to see that there’s things within myself that I either can’t or shouldn’t alter. I have a tendency to fall really hard for a girl if she checks the right boxes, if she fulfills the things I was hoping she would be. When I see that, I’m gone - I become attached. And trust me, I’ve tried to figure that one out for years yet here we are, still baffled. Still falling.

I’m also incredibly wordy, both in my texts, in my writing, and in speaking to people on a daily basis. Sometimes that means I’m writing a blog post, then going back and deleting half of it because 4 words of a 12 word sentence simply weren’t necessary. But it’s also been a big help in being able to explain myself to the world around me.

I think as I grow older, I stop trying to see myself as something that has to be, or can be, entirely fixed. Being a man has that downside (we’re fixers by nature) - hell, being a human has that downside. We believe that we are in constant need of tweaking. Granted, that’s all part of personal growth, but I think parts of ourselves are detriments in a particular instance, while also being a large part of what makes us individuals. It’s like fixing the broken fan belt in your dad’s old Chevy, but leaving the dent on the tailgate. Why? The fan belt keeps it running, but the tailgate reminds you of the time you two were laughing so hard he backed into a tree. It gives the piece character. 

Slowly, I start to see myself as becoming a kintsugi masterpiece - a broken thing with many cracks, but all cracks filled with gold. With this, we highlight the fact that what may have been something that broke us is also what makes us unique and incredible.

I read a quote a while back that said, “We are made of those who built us, and those who broke us”...or something like that. 

I have been broken so many times. And sometimes, I still feel broken. More and more lately, I question if that’s a feeling that ever goes away. But every time I feel shattered, I take another step. I fill another line with gold, and move on. 

I don’t think I get to choose how, or when I break. None of us do. All we do choose is how we move on, how we organize the pieces, and fill the cracks. In some way we’re all Humpty Dumpty sitting on the wall, waiting for our next great fall.

[mixtapeonwheels]

We’re All Limited By Something

We all have limiting beliefs. They sneak up on us, and I don’t think we can see them until they come out in a specific statement.

Recently, one of my mine came out. I’m looking at a new vehicle because my old one has become too expensive to maintain. I started hunting around, and I’m always, always hunting on the low end of the scale. New is borderline out of the question, any sort of upgrades that are important to me (premium sound system), are also off the table. It took a while before I realized that I’ve done well for myself, and don’t always have to go for the cheapest option in every regard. I spend a ton of time in my vehicle every week, it might be worth it to go a little all out at some point.

Another limiting belief would be that there aren’t people like me out in this world. Even writing that one down seems kind of dumb, but we all want to believe we’re stupidly unique. Like that loving romantic poetry, and rom com movies, and romance as a whole, yet caring about my physical fitness, reading lots of books on self-development and psychology, all while loving the music that I listen to is some sort of unique combination. We’re not particularly unique in that way, folks. Yes, the combination of experiences we’ve gone through, how we’ve responded to them, and how they’ve shaped us as people IS unique, but the idea that what we like is...that’s a bit of a farce. 

Aside from my full time job, I’m working to build a business as an online fitness coach. Therein lies a massive belief that people wouldn’t sign up to be coached by me, or that I don’t have any value to bring. It’s funny when I think about this logically, because I ask myself why I’m with my coach. It’s not because of his programming abilities (though he is incredible), or because he’s overly strong (although he is), it’s because he takes the time to get to know me as an athlete, analyze how I think and apply it to how he works with me. Sometimes that means a ton of bodybuilding work, or days to just get a pump, or telling me in my check ins that I kicked ass during a peak and surprised him. As a society, I think the biggest thing any of us want is to be seen and understood, by a world that chooses to operate on the surface with most things. I think that’s something I choose to invest time in.

I’m sure there are more. Maybe I haven’t been put in a situation for them to surface yet, or perhaps I’ve brushed them off as something else. Regardless, I don’t know how to fix this. I only know that they exist, and when I come across a situation where they might apply, I need to logic myself out of this.

Fuck man, we’re all just human. And humanity is hard.

[mixtapeonwheels]

The Superhero Mold

Being a human is hard. Especially as you get into adulthood, you start trying to find not where you do fit into the world, but where you want to fit into the world as well. I think with the invention and mass-spreading of social media, we see an infinite number of possibilities as to what role we could fill; at the same time we feel just as much pressure to do something great with the one life we’ve been given (I do believe in reincarnation, but that’s a whole other discussion for another post).

I’ve spent a lot of time as of late thinking about this idea I’d call the Superhero Mold.

It’s this idea of what women want, through my own experiences. They want a man who has his shit together in terms of having a career, being in a stable position in terms of places to live, and a vehicle to drive, and where his life is heading. 

But then comes the other side. They want a man who’s also in control of his emotions, who has them, is in touch with them, but at the same time...doesn’t really have any uncertainties. Has accepted himself. Has little to no insecurities. 

Now, as an aside, if it feels like I’m generalizing women, I’m intending to do that for the purpose of the idea that I’m talking about. I’ve met women that respect their men for being vulnerable. I’ve seen the other side of this.

Back to the original point - I used an analogy earlier this week that being a man, especially with a family, can sometimes be like being told to drive a van across Canada with your entire family packed into it, but without being given any directions, any license to drive this van, and any instructions on how to drive it. You’re walking in blind with the full expectation that you should know what you’re doing when you have little to no experience doing so.

Being real, and vulnerable and true to who you are means revealing those insecurities to a partner. Telling them about your feelings of not being good enough, or not being fit enough, or your fear that you’ll never fulfill what you feel is your own potential. But with revealing those ideas comes a requirement to break the mold. You have to be truly human.

Sometimes I wonder if people really want that. It’s an easy thing to say, that everyone wants someone whose emotionally available, and truly vulnerable. But what happens when that actually comes out? Because no one can be a superhero all the time. In fact, no one IS a superhero all the time. They just play one. Some play it better than others. 

There was one time in my life when I truly opened up to a partner. This was years ago, but it was at the very beginning of my mental health journey. We were laying in bed together, and I admitted that I have an anxiety disorder I was still trying to figure out. She pulled my head on to her chest and just said that it didn’t change how she felt about me. That was truly vulnerability, and that was true acceptance.

But those moments have been rare for me. Sometimes I wonder if I have walls I didn’t even know about, if I struggle to be as vulnerable as I spout that all people, not just men, should be. There are topics that I’m not ready to talk about yet, like suicide, my own limiting beliefs, my own insecurities about the way I’ve chosen to live my life and my path heading forward. Those are topics I don’t really believe should be on this blog, or that I’m not at a place to put them here. 

I think I’ve always prided myself on being a gentleman, and a mark of there still being good men out in the world. I like to plan really fun dates and pay for them, I do my best not to play a woman, and I don’t lead women on. If I’m not interested, I decide that early on and shut it down. But when a woman gets close, there’s always a fear. I have my own demons, I have my own secrets. What if she doesn’t accept them? What if she wants a man who’s good, and a gentleman, but doesn’t want one that’s broken sometimes? That has his own insecurities, has anxieties from his past, has moments where he feels weak?

Acceptance is scary, because it feels rare. I think one of my goals when I get back into dating (it’ll be a bit yet) is to actually open up. When a woman asks about my insecurities, to be honest. When she does something that causes me anxiety, to tell her. I can only hope that as i grow older, as I accept myself more, I come across people that want a human with superhero tendencies, but not one who is a true superhero.

Even Superman was broken in some ways. 

[mixtapeonwheels]

To Be a Man

Let’s start this off on the right foot here - with a reality check.

I am a white male, born in Canada, and have basically struck the genetic and circumstantial lottery. I struggle in my own right and I respect that within myself because to say that my struggle doesn’t matter is a giant act of comparison, and not a stance I’m really interested in taking. Struggle matters, man. Regardless of where you stand in life. We all have to fight in some way, shape, or form. But I understand this is a first world struggle. I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, or getting clean water, or not getting shot today. Instead I have the privilege about worrying about the meaning of my own existence and place on Earth. Now, carrying on...

I met a man once. He explained how he had lived as every man is supposed to - with little to no emotion, always being the protector, the fixer, and the sturdy place to which people could chain themselves in times of great turbulence. He showed no one his true self, his insecurities, and put on a metaphorical suit of armor before he faced the world each day. What did this get him?

He felt more lonely than anyone I had ever met. He had no one close, no friends, no lover, and had no idea who he wanted to be. 

I’ve struggled with this before, as I’ve previously mentioned. At some point, I chose to be emotional and just muddle my way through figuring out what I wanted to be, rather than what I was supposed to be. I’ve had women tell me I was too nice, or not manly enough. While at the time this obviously stung, I can’t be with someone who asks me to fill a role like that. 

To be honest, I still struggle to show anyone my insecurities. I’m good at being vulnerable, but for some reason, telling someone the things that scare me or make me uneasy feel like they go beyond that. Perhaps that space is true vulnerability, and what I’ve felt before is just...being open. But I think the role I was supposed to fill has always played into that. I fear that some people still see this stereotype - this confidence in my own self and every facet of my being. But when it comes to accepting the things that make me feel weak, I still fear rejection. Maybe I always will. Maybe that’s what a true open spirit is like, constantly living in this world of ‘you can take it or leave it, and I’ll accept whichever you choose.’

Why do we as men feel this way? Having done zero to no research on this, I think it stems from the hunter/gatherer role we filled in our beginnings. Here we were, facing predators, starvation, harsh winters, and possibly other tribes. A man’s role was providing for the tribe - killing prey, ensuring their safety, and ‘spreading his seed’. 

But that role evolved. We banded together in communities, we established protection measures, standardized finding resources, built permanent homes for ourselves. We made life easier. So why did our feelings of our role never actually evolve?

Sometimes I wonder how much of this is real, and how much of this is in our head. I know as I watched my father, brother, and grandfather (three very influential men in my life), I saw embodiment of what I felt I should be. Do other people truly want us to be that? Would they even know the answer to that question?

I guess by that, I’m asking the question of what I want, versus what someone else wants. I want to be open, I want to be real and fully-filleted, so to speak. But if you present that side to another person, do they want that? Do they want to be independent, and have to hold me up sometimes, and realize that I don’t know all the answers, or want to have to be a rock all the time?

Every man you meet cannot be a rock always. We crack, we break, and that is what makes us beautiful. But I wonder if the world is ready to see that beauty.  

[mixtapeonwheels]

We’re complex fucks, man

I like that title. It comes across as a little aggressive when I don’t intend it to be, but for some reason, it’s sticking.

I think about the idea of being multi-dimensional quite often, and what that means in my own life and in the life of the people that I meet. There was a long time where I felt very alone in the things that I was searching for, the questions I was asking, and the activities/pursuits that gave me the emotional experience I was hunting for. I realize now that while it may have reduced the number of people I feel truly connected to, it’s still not that unique. I wonder if I was just never asking the right questions.

In those moments, I have to remind myself that no human thought is truly unique. There’s far too many of us, having far too complex experiences, living all across this human construct of time, for anything to be really unique. Just because we don’t find a commonality with someone in that particular moment does not mean it has never existed.

I’m a powerlifter and a fitness junkie. I eat healthy, lift weights on the daily, own a business doing lifestyle coaching, and wear tighter clothing than the average bear (I mean, if we’re reeeeeally honest). That being said, I don’t feel like I fill any other part of the powerlifter role. I’d rather people not see my for the physique I’ve built, and fitness and powerlifting are not my favorite conversation topics.

While I struggle to call myself so, I’m also a writer, and someone who enjoys literature, art, music, and anything else that can evoke intense emotional experiences. And while I choose that to be part of my personality and what makes me a human being, I also don’t feel like i fill that stereotype. I don’t wear scarves, or snob at things like video games and sports, or believe the world was better in the 1800s (I mean, we didn’t have skipthedishes or Uber, so it’s a hard sell).

I’m also an engineer. But I don’t believe engineering will solve all of the world’s problems, or that’s the greatest profession that’s ever existed, or that any program is easier than the one I chose. What i do for a career does not define me.

Finally, I spend my time questioning my own place in the world. I read and listen to material on stoicism, and investigate the mindset surrounding the beauty of struggle - how it makes us better humans and forces us to reach deeper within ourselves to see what is truly there. Without it, we may become like the surface-dwellers in H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine”. These questions, this thought pattern, this struggle, whatever you may choose to call it - I can’t turn it off. It’s always there, whirring in the background. Sometimes it makes enjoying the simple things like a good cup of coffee, or a beautiful sunset, or a good day at work that much more difficult. But I attempt to find some balance between feeding into it, and allowing myself to enjoy the simple things.

I think it may be a bit of an immature string to believe that I’m the only one who believes, or feels he is multi-dimensional. While I may not enjoy drinking and partying, or nights out at the bar, there was a time that i did. Maybe all humans are multi-dimensional, and some are just too afraid to explore it, or too afraid to let people see it. Stereotypes help to feel like we belong to something - like we’re part of something bigger than ourselves. 

While the path to true self-acceptance could involve feeling pretty damn lonely, I don’t know that i could survive anything else.

[mixtapeonwheels]

Happiness

I had it in my notes today to write about my own journey with happiness. Please note that this is an ongoing journey, with both unbelievable peaks and devastating valleys. I’m blessed by the fact that I can feel such a wide range of intense emotions, but that does not come without the negatives as well.

Ever since I first started to deal with depression, studying and exploring the concept of happiness has been on my radar, and a bit of an obsession if I’m honest. I’ve read books on the idea, listened to podcasts, and done my own self-reflection about what it means to be truly happy, and what it takes to actually walk that journey. Here’s my best summation of some of the things I’ve learned:

1. Happiness is not a place, it is an experience. 

I began meditating a few years ago. While I am the picture of inconsistency when it comes to that, it has given me a gift of being able to recognize when a happy moment comes along and allowing myself to be present in that moment.

There were wonderful moments laying with someone I truly cared about where I would notice everything I possibly could: the way her hand felt against mine, the warmth of the room, the quiet music playing in the background, the soft chirp of birds outside the window, the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I’ve had moments on a boat in the middle of a foreign country, recognizing the range of colors of the sunset, the way my drink tasted on my lips, the soft breeze that rolled over my skin. The laughter of my travel mates on the edge of my ears.

As I’ve forced myself to be more present in these moments, I recognize them sooner, and do a sense scan to recognize every single detail - like taking a momentary snapshot. While these moments will not, and should not last forever, the memories will. That’s something I’m truly thankful for.

2. Happiness is like a shark in the ocean - if it stops moving forward, it dies.

I think I’ve slammed my head against a wall enough times that I actually digested this one. But self-development, achieving one’s own goals, and setting new ones are all important to remaining happy. When it comes to a relationship, I’ve been guilty of stopping all of this and devoting effort to making someone else happy. But the more I reflect on this particular lesson, the more I see that relationships have to be like picking up a hitchhiker on your way into town. You’re already going somewhere, you’ve discussed, and they’ve decided to come along for the ride. Maybe at some point you decide to bypass your original plans and go somewhere else. But the important thing is - you’re still moving.

3. What gives you a moment of happiness is deeply personal, and it’s your responsibility to explore it.

To my boss, happiness is 7 am as the sun comes over the hill out past his house, hunting game. To others, it’s a perfectly warm coffee in front of a laptop on a cold, snowy afternoon (me, that’s me). The point is that we all have some range of activities or events that allow us those moments, and it’s up to us to explore and discover what those are. I’ve found happiness in the momentary tunnel vision that encompasses me on the powerlifting platform, or in the warmth of waking up 10 minutes before your alarm, with the chance to doze for just a moment or two. Nothing should hold us back from these instances - we need to seek them out. I like the idea to look for a flow state - something that allows times to pass effortlessly, while you’re lost in a particular activity.

4. Happiness is a choice, not a result.

I think I struggle with this one the most. We can all get wrapped up in this idea that happiness is a place to get to, even if we don’t realize it. When i’m in love, when i’m married, when I have kids, when I have a house, when I take that trip, get that job...etc. THEN, I’ll be happy.

But that’s not really how it works, or how it was ever meant to work. Within our own choices, we choose to seek out new experiences and the events and moments we know make us feel good, and then we CHOOSE to be present in those moments. By that explanation, happiness is a recurrence, not a constant. 

I didn’t, and still don’t intend for this post to come across as “Josh’s Guide to Eternal Happiness”. If that were the case, I would have to consider myself having found it, and I’m far, far from that. That being said, I’ve experienced blissfully happy moments, and I’m becoming better at knowing when they’re coming, and when they’ve occurred. I think if they came across my plate every day, I’d becoming less appreciative of them. Don’t let that lead you to believe I don’t have pleasant moments - of course I do. There’s moments of triumph when I’ve achieved a goal at work, or a personal best on the platform, but I think that real happiness is more rare, and inherently more special because of that. And I hope that I become better at figuring out where they might be. Let’s hope this blank map starts to populate.