skyetears

[skyetears]

Cats are a fantastic judge of character. A cat will not warm to a stranger unless they are certain that person will bring them no harm. Watch how they interact with children, which children they feel comfortable around - I dare say you won't be surprised, and their choice in child also reflects the parenting style that child has been subject to. Watch which person they give their attention to next time you have multiple people over to your house - I dare say you might be surprised.

[skyetears]

This year marks the 14th year since beginning my relationship with alcohol and cigarettes. The only relationships that transcend this timeframe in my life are those with my family and 3 friends who have remained in my life all this time. Reflecting on this relationship I remember that a younger me never saw cigarettes as sticking around long term, and yet they have stood the test of time and been an ally through the hardest times as well as the best times. The relationship cemented when I identified as a smoker, previous to that I smoked but did not consider myself a smoker; this reflects social relationships in that those closest to us become a part of our identity (we are best friends, I am their bf/gf ect.). When we choose to leave a relationship, as hard as it may be, we do so because we want to shed that part of our identity for whatever reason- perhaps the relationship is detrimental to us, perhaps it stops us from growing in the way we want, perhaps the other half of the relationship crossed a line. No matter the reason, when it is our choice, the ending of the relationship is easier to come to terms with than when we are not the ones who choose to end things. When a relationship ends outside of our control the sense of loss can be overwhelming and all consuming, a part us is removed, a part we didn't want to lose. Coping with this loss is regularly a seeming exercise in futility because replacing it means trusting again and risking having the rug pulled put from under us, a risk of being hurt again. Replacing lost relationships is easier for some than others, in the sense that some people have more opportunities around them to create relationships; those of us who are more isolated, or more selective in choosing who to connect with and open up to, can regularly feel rejected, not valued, or frustration at why our attempts to build something new aren't valued by the other party. We know, that if someone doesn't value us in the same way, that we can't feasibly hold it against them, we know that at some stage we will build new and meaningful relationships. However, having to come to terms with the idea that it will be "some day" is what causes such emotional turmoil; is it next week, next month, next year, in 15 years? Why do we have to potentially wait so long for what others have in excess? The feeling of injustice spurs bitterness and cynicism. We know we don't want to feel like this and we know that there are healthy steps to take in the mean time, though to the dejected and isolated this feels like a platitude as it does nothing to help stem the immediate feeling of distress nor fulfill the desire to be accepted for who we are. People feeling this way are widely told to male peace with it, suck it up and keep moving forward. This lack of empathy only serves to further isolate those that want to feel connected to something other than themselves. Stoicism is not for for every one, some of us are sensitive and that is OK and should be respected in an ideal world. But the world we love in is far from ideal. So in the meantime, know that there are millions in your situation, and they are desperately wanting connection as bad as you. We are not alone. You are not alone. Until the day comes that someone meets your love equally, take a moment to love yourself and appreciate the relationships you do have, social or not, and focus on the fulfilment they provide you. This afternoon, I will be having a few more beers, and many more cigarettes. I'm not some beacon of health, just a human trying to be a little better today than I was yesterday by any means as long as that means doesn't harm a fellow human.

[skyetears]

The First Day: Chundering Into The Toilet Bowl to The Chili Peppers – Part 4 (final)

When one loses everything, when one goes from being on top of the world and having accomplished every goal set out for oneself, when one goes from being the support of so many, to hitting rock bottom and finding it insurmountable to don the social mask that had been worn so comfortably before, when donning that mask was a key part of one’s self, it is worth exploring how someone rediscovers themself and learns to interact in a new authentic way with the world. This is the beginning of a journey, knowing that irreparable damage has been done, the scars have healed but they show – and they may likely never fade. So my story, is the story of a man who kicked every goal, had all of the things and accomplished all of the experiences we are told will make us happy and satisfied, losing everything, and gaining a new perspective on what is important in life, what is necessary in life. If you are someone who was cast out of your community, or someone who has never felt part of a group, an outcast, a black sheep, someone who is lost and wanting to be found – I offer you my hand to walk our unique paths linked by the common feeling of displacement, rejection and isolation. My story isn’t yours, but the hurdles we face, I daresay, are entwined. You and I, we are not alone despite the feeling every conversation we have with those outside our experience isn’t real, they don’t get it, they may have our best intentions at heart, yet they are not truly connected to our reality. And in this world where people are increasingly disconnected from those around them, our story is no longer the outlier, we become a growing majority of people who want to love and be loved, or people who feel that challenge after challenge is thrown at us and preventing us from accomplishing the potential we known, are have known at one stage, that we have within us. I ask you to walk with me on my recovery, to take action at every step I do, and shake off the expectations of society, to redefine our own expectations and challenge what is a REAL and sustainable way of living. Along this journey there are going to be some goofy new-age attempts at finding meaning and comfort, and it is ok to laugh at those things as being cringe. Because deep down, everyone is cringe; if you’ve ever overheard the forced small talk of two strangers you know the cringe I’m talking about, but to them it isn’t cringe – to them it is a social interaction that makes sense. So, let’s embrace new ideas and not judge one another for wanting to feel whole and human. This is the first day of the rest of my life, and I know for a fact it won’t be smooth sailing. I used to take advantage of my privilege to get ahead in life, I am white male in a white man’s world, and I know for a fact I got opportunities I wouldn’t have garnered had I not been in the position of privilege I am. But now, I can’t fall back on that crutch and accept I am being true to myself, I don’t want to have to be anything other than myself, so I don’t want to be in environments that I only entered because I am privileged. The transformation to not pleasing others, or using my own language in circles that don’t use that same language – that will be the fun and the challenge, of finding my place in the world, of finding my people, of finding love, meaning, vocational satisfaction. So join me in taking the first step to momentum, of not stagnating in despair – and make no mistake, despair will visit us time and time again, but we will build a new strength, an unique and individual strength that is amplified by the community of striving to overcome. I am here with you, friend. I am listening, and I know you have the ability to hear me like no one else before. Let us walk together to the edge of the world, where the sun falls into the sea.   

[skyetears]

The First Day: Chundering Into The Toilet Bowl to The Chili Peppers – Part 3

Love languages are a modern concept that explores this – you may be someone who expresses and feels affection through spending time with someone, however that person may not feel appreciated unless you give them gifts or acts of service. I believe this conceptualisation of the transaction of intent between people is part of understanding how people become socially isolated; if someone tries their best to do things they know someone else will appreciate, then that person will feel disparaged when seemingly no one else is taking action with the same consideration towards them as they do to others. Of course, there is an awareness required to make these kinds of determinations because who is to say other people aren’t making an effort in their own way definitively? Though I’d venture to say that anyone who has experienced depression or mental illness or a really low point in their life has had the experience where other people are giving them a surface level sympathy and attention (listening to you rant, “just hang in their and focus the good things”, “Go to the gym and channel that energy”, “Maybe you should see a doctor and get some medication”, “Just keep taking the medication and let the drugs do their thing”) however this type of interaction comes off as dismissing, like the person is incapable of truly walking a mile in our shoes – that is to say they are not empathising. The distinction between empathy and sympathy is an important one; sympathy by definition is someone seeing our circumstance and feeling bad – it is a selfish action because their interaction with the information before them is understanding through their own lens and emotion (“they are sad, and that makes me feel bad because I don’t think they should have to feel this way”). Whereas empathy is selfless and true understanding (“The situation they are in prevents them from being where they would like, the challenges they face are unique to them”). That isn’t to say someone who sympathises over empathises is a bad person, if the values of altruism, care and kindness are behind the action, then their inability to empathise is simply lack of experience or education, not intent. However, good intentions are not enough on their own merit to heal the subject of pain. Thus, leads to the creation of this blog – my situation is a story that has been told millions of times over in various iterations, though I am not part of a community, nor are so many others who have had their world fall apart, the subjects of pain and trauma. Therefore, this blog will explore the various themes of isolation, and how those themes create challenges to reconnecting with the wider community.

[skyetears]

The First Day: Chundering Into The Toilet Bowl to The Chili Peppers – Part 2

After purging myself of everything my body would not accept, it was time to go walkabout. There was no destination in mind, simply the desire to put one foot in front of the other and achieve a crossover of the physical action and the mental action. I eventually found my self a suitable location to gather my thoughts; this was a new estate with a park that obviously had a lot of development money sunk into it, the playground was a work of art, it had undercover areas and a public bbq for families to gather and socialise, and multiple families were making use of the space with parents talking to other parents, enjoying a cold drink in the shade while keeping a side eye on their children who were learning to explore their environment through play and develop their imagination. It was a beautiful and comforting site to behold. However, there was me, a single entity, a 28-year-old man lurking on the fringes of a playground, and I was out of place. I could feel the side eyes of parents seeing me as a potential risk factor, and once again in my life I felt the exclusion and anxiety that accompanies being part of an out group. And so, my first reflection was born: how to be accepted into an in group. While I have always been somewhat of a black sheep, my education in psychology taught me communication skills to build rapport with whoever was in front of me; this lead to an acknowledgement in my own skill to be somewhat of a social chameleon, I felt at just as comfortable talking to the Aboriginal from a remote community who spoke English as a fourth language about the social issues faced in their community  as I did sipping Grange on a cruise ship with millionaires discussing the current demands for hypothetical niche markets, as well as talking to everyone in between. Human beings were my people in my mind and I prided myself on my ability to learn to speak in the cultural language of others and identify what they found worthy of discussion and what was taboo. During this time in my adult life, I always had a close-knit social circle of my own, and that was the place I could return to and vent, talk in my own natural language and be heard without fear or favour. However, even within my circle I had an unofficial support role, and an expectation placed upon me of wisdom; while I was allowed to have many moments of immaturity, it didn’t quite hit me how the idea of me people had in their head would affect their opinion of me after I hit rock bottom. When I was freshly considered a man, I was told “you don’t truly know someone until you either live with them or go traveling”, as I got older, I realised the point of this saying is that you don’t genuinely know someone’s true colours until you have experienced conflict with them that can’t be avoided because through conflict you will see their willingness to grow with you, you will see their level of maturity. What I had never deeply considered is how you know when someone truly knows and accepts you; in my mind I believed that if you always be true to yourself people will see that, but people don’t consider your actions in the same way you do – it sounds simple to say out loud, though I think the complexity beneath that is something worth noting.

[skyetears]

The First Day: Chundering Into The Toilet Bowl to The Chili Peppers – Part 1

This day was 10 months in the making, approaching the anniversary of when an accomplished life began to implode, it was finally the day where all of the rumination, contemplation, introspection and therapy came to a head – today was the first day of proactive action, today was the day that would not be dictated by reaction to external stimulus. The warmth of the day began to filter in through the open windows which provided a comforting embrace to wake to and slip out of bed. Despite the feeling of grogginess and physical illness left by the two bottles of red wine and the pack of cigarettes left residual from the events of last night, there was an energy, a motivation to make the most of the day, the drive to accomplish things. To shake off the cobwebs, a little motivational music and some caffeine was in order; a tall glass  of iced coffee was made and ‘Charlie’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers was cranked. The neighbours were at work, the household was at work, everyone in my bubble had a life and responsibility to attend today except for me, today my only responsibility was moving forward and caring for myself. As the vibrations of Flea’s iconic bass and Frusciante’s passionate guitar emanated through my shaky corporeal form, that raw energy that music instils in us to dance and sing surged through my being as if a strong dose of MDMA was beginning to hit me. The plan was to walk, reconnect with the Earth, mediate on the lessons of the past months, and then, eventually, to find opportunities to place myself in communities aligning with my interests, goals, skills, education and needs; somewhere that would foster me growing into my new self. The music cascaded in a way that spurred my body on to do the biggest cardio session I had done in almost a year, and when my body hit it’s limit and knew I needed a rest, I could feel my stomach becoming unsettled; the large dose of milk and caffeine was not sitting well with last night’s red wine and the physical excursion. I couldn’t fight the need to purge and I transported myself with hast to the bathroom to expel the toxins and poison. This was a stark reminder of my age, a stark reminder that I can’t play like I used to, that after years of abuse my body now requires care and attention. This was the first day I took control back, the beginning of my journey to end my quarter life crisis.