ON HAVING SURVIVED — The Worst That Was Yet To Come ;0)

Reflection from September 24th, 2007 @ Age 26


I don’t know where to begin!  I guess I’ll start with home—it only seems natural.  I feel like my mom is competing with me and feels threatened by me.  She told me last night that I am not the first one or the only one to think the thoughts that I do.  She asked me how she could be more supportive and I told her I needed to think about it.  Well, I have, and I think it would go something more along the lines of:

I’m so glad you are able to see what’s going on in our society so clearly.  I’m sorry the truth is so difficult a burden to bear.  How are you doing bearing the burden?  How are you dealing with it?  This is what I’ve found to help me bear the burden when it troubles me.

As opposed to—you aren’t the only one who has thought these thoughts; well, you aren’t doing enough to go out and find people who think like you do.  I can feel her trying to pull me back down, but I can’t tell whether it’s because I’ve lost my grounding or if it’s a result of her own unresolved emotional turmoil. 

I just finished reading The Trap and I’m so glad because it’s really been throwing me for a loop.  It’s terrifying to read explicitly what is going on with our politics and nation today.  While I do not take everything that was said for granted—I do think the author had some excellent and well thought through ideas, and he’s shed light, at least for me, on issues that have for so long sat in darkness.  I’m so thankful for the enlightenment it has brought me.  I feel the author and I could make an effective team for effecting change in America.  With his historical and political background and my economic, philosophic, legal and psychological background—I think we would be quite the pair of contenders.  We shall see, we shall see.

So I’m sitting here at my temping job looking at my reflection in the mirror—looking at the Star of David on my foot.  I wish those that at least proclaim to love me most also knew how best to support me.  Anymore, I feel that if I am not directly serving someone else’s benefit, that they are not then inclined to serve mine.  Such it is with life and the dark side of humanity I suppose.  Well surprisingly now, I’ve come to a loss of words.  I think I’ll revel in and enjoy the silence while it lasts.


I want to be a beacon of light for children.  And all children—not just the rich or the poor or the white or the black or the girls or the boys.  All children that will have me—will be had.  I’m going back and reading Go Ask Alice now, and it seems it’s never been more pertinent in my life.  I want to improve the politics for the world in order to benefit all the children who inhabit it.  I have many goals, but I think there is no priority higher than the children that inhabit this earth.

It’s funny because in Buddhism, and in many other religions as well, a true Buddha is to give up the prospects of marriage and having children of his/her own, and when I first came to this principle I thought I would never be willing to give those things up.  But as I grow older and supposedly smarter and wiser, it seems my own life is naturally coming into accord with these principles.  I can’t say that I have given up on them entirely, but I just do not see how marriage and having my own family will fit into my current priorities.  If anything, it seems, it will take away from all that I have to give to the greater good. 

I am now seeing the element of selfishness that comes with making one’s own family.  I know of course that is merely one element to factor into the entire ordeal, but I think it is noteworthy that I am now considering this aspect in the totality of the situation. 

It really bothers me what my mom said last night.  She said I’m not even trying to connect with people who think like I do.  But I told her I am!  I’m reading like mad all different authors, trying like never before to connect with the thoughts and ideas of those who have come before me!  Plus I am working with people more than ever at work (which she conceded).  But alas nothing will be good enough for her.  And not because it is not good enough in actuality—but rather because her criticisms of me are a mere destructive effort to take the spotlight in her own mind off of her own shortcomings.  You see, she is feeling shame in not having been a perfect mother (which is no doubt a natural phenomenon because no human being is perfect), and in order to deflect that personal shame, she is blaming me for something not even necessarily based in reality.  It’s the classic shame-blame-game, a telltale sign of depressive thinking.  I would know.

But now, to look at my own part, why am I feeling such inner turmoil over the situation?  I find that I myself get sucked into participating in the shame-blame-game when speaking with my mother.  She tells me I was a difficult child to raise because I had many issues and I turn to her and say, “I had issues because my needs weren’t met as a child by my parents, my caregivers.”  I engage in the process of blame giving because I don’t know how to focus on—at least in the moment—the “trouble” I caused to my own parents because I was not a perfect child.  This, rest assured, is not a constructive process.

So what do I do?  Refuse to engage in meaningful conversation with my mother?  Walk around her emotional sore spots like I would land mines waiting to erupt?  I find myself once again, in the familiar position of not quite knowing what to do.  But in questioning and thought I have faith that the answer will come.  God please help to shine light upon my darkened mind. 

The longer I live, the more I realize that no “break” is coming.  If salvation does find me, I feel it will lie in further enlightenment and renewed strength to continue along my path full of darkness.

I think another of my goals is to increase public rhetoric relating to all the interconnectedness of humanity.  I want to help show others that it is only in the salvation of others that we will in fact, find salvation for ourselves.

I’m feeling abandoned by friends and family, and yet I don’t think it is on purpose as much as it is that they just don’t know what to do to be of help.  It would be nice if they tried though.  But how can I expect them to help me, when I know they do not yet know even how to help themselves?  This life just gets to be so complicated and in coming to try to explain it—it only becomes evermore complicated.  The interconnectedness of all problems astounds me.  In that connectivity, though, I find strength to move on forward.

I find it interesting that my passions scare others.  They certainly scared JenJen the other day when she suggested I see a doctor.  And they scare my mom to the point where she can no longer stand to be around me.  And all the while I wonder, what is it they are running from? 

I think about what Jen said about my seeing a doctor, and the funny thing is—I have seen the doctor!  Tons of them.  But they cannot cure me of my visions and my inability to self-deceive.  And for that matter, nor do I want to be cured from these “perils”.  It lends all the more credence, then, to my hypothesis that the “mentally ill” are not necessarily ill at all!  It is just that we see more clearly all the evil in this world.  We just are not capable, as are so many others, to hide from the suffering of our brothers and sisters, and of ourselves.  Ahh but maybe then I am speaking of the healed “mentally ill”.  A class of people I would greatly like to become better acquainted with.

But I cannot fail to mention, out of compulsion more than anything, that healing is a lifelong process.  It’s no different from the dieting/magic pill versus healthy eating habits and physical exercise phenomenon. 

I think part of what so incessantly bothers me is that so often we demand an explanation from others when we ourselves are not committed to truly helping that person find a lasting, natural solution to their problem in the first place.  Our materialistic society has driven us to materialistic thinking.  We are so far gone, we can no longer even identify the roots of our own incessant suffering.

It’s funny that I learned about what a noose is from my friend the other morning, and then yesterday for the first time, though I’ve listened to the song so many times before, I heard in Regina Spektor’s “Us”, how she was saying “we wear our scarves like a noose, but not because we want eternal sleep.”  It’s so funny the things that are brought to me when I work hard to keep my mind open as wide as is humanly possible.

I’m reading Alice and am so intrigued by the insight of this fifteen year old girl.  She speaks of how her parents are never truly listening, and how they just want her to be what they want her to be.  As if they knew best!  They can’t even hear her speak!  And they think they know what is best for her.  They can’t even open their own minds enough to hear their own child speak.  They think they know best—yet how could they if they’re not even willing to open their minds to all the possibilities so they can weigh and evaluate which is the best path to take?  How similar this rings true for our own American culture of closed-mindedness.  The irony of the situation is that we are at least somewhat able to do this in our consumerist efforts to buy the best product for the least amount of money.  Why is it then, that we have so much trouble applying this concept of open-mindedness to that which really matters most in our lives?  We are so busy pretending that our world is a decent place to live in, that we cannot possibly help our children when they are flailing around in existence, just trying to find meaning enough to live through one more day.  How long will we continue to deceive ourselves at the dire detriment to our own children’s souls?

My jaw is still not fitting together today.  I’m wondering if this book idea will really take off and if I have what it takes to make this here visualization really happen.  I suspect that I do, but it’s such a dream—it’s hard to believe it could also come true.

I am so disturbed by the world I see around me, and I know I am not alone in this struggle.  I just know it! 

It’s funny one of the customers, upon leaving, asked me if he could have my job so he too, could sit here and hang out all day.   Isn’t that too funny?!  The grass is always greener I suppose, if you let it.

I’m slightly fed up with this “hello, how are you” garbage people feed in and out everyday.  It’s just one more classic case of how we inquire—but only materially—into the being of another.  But then again who am I to talk?  Because I so rarely am willing to share my own personal story with another human being through this method.  Is it the method then, that is superficial?  Or is it my unwillingness to participate genuinely that makes it superficial?  A bit of both and then some I suspect.  But who wants to speak without a true listener?  And besides that, who knows what these people will do with my personal information.  It makes me so frustrated in knowing that quite generally, I have to protect myself from my fellow human beings.  I want to live in a world where I can trust in my fellow human beings, and if someone does me wrong—I want to know there will be a dozen more to help me up from my fall.  And likewise, I want to help others up from their falls.  But how?  That is ever the question.

I find it frustrating that to this day, I still cannot count on my own mother for emotional support because she is ever-hiding from her own unresolved emotional turmoil.  I suppose I must only go forth and find support elsewhere, which works out for me in the end—in the sense that I end up connecting with other human beings.

I have been thinking about it and it seems there is no good reason why pot is illegal and alcohol is not.  Neither are physically addictive, but of course both can be very mentally and emotionally addictive—depending on the person.  So why then, is one legal and one not?  And for that matter, why is it that the far more destructive mind-altering substance is the legal one?  It’s all in the arbitrary politics I suppose.  But in all seriousness, wouldn’t this world be a far better place if the worse a person did was overeat and fall asleep—as opposed to getting into fights and crashing cars and killing each other?  Wouldn’t we inevitably be far better off if weed and not alcohol, were legal?  Just some food for thought.  If anything, the government should get the damn message straight.  Either mind-altering substances are okay, or they are not—but stop damn straddling the fence already man!    

The issue we should be looking at is not that kids are on drugs.  That’s obvious!  I think we should all be looking at why kids are on drugs!  Did you really want to trick us into believing that we live in a world truly worth living in?  I’ve worked so hard and yet here I am—I can’t find a fucking job, I can’t pay my bills, I can’t study what I want to study or commit myself to the good of others and still pay my bills, my creative time is quickly running out.  Sooner or later, I too will have to sell out to Corporate America so I can repay all those school loans, for all that schooling that was meant to free my mind in the first place.  But what good was freeing my mind if, when all is said and done, I merely have to revert into evil closed-minded practices in order to get along in this world?  In order to subsist in this American culture so full of evil.  Is it any wonder I may choose not to be here if after all is said and done—I’ve no choice but to become a slave to evil? 

I’m really starting to see why so many people just give up in this world—especially the downtrodden poor.  I think you can only be slapped in the face so many times under the guise of “help” before you say to hell with it all.  But can I live by my own convictions?  Will I shrivel up and die too, in spirit, in the wake—in the promise of financial security?  Is my soul really worth giving up the prospect of financial security?  I dare say so.  But I also dare say—the worst is yet to come.

I think it’s mostly the fact that my mother, rather than saying “ohh it’s so great you’re so focused and committed to fulfilling your dream of writing this book,” is rather judging me instead, saying “you are not out looking for people with the same ideas.”  What the fuck is that all about?  This is exactly the kind of support so many children are missing today, from such a very young age.  For one cannot be supportive emotionally to another when they cannot even be emotionally supportive for themselves.  It’s not that parents cannot—it’s that they choose not, for whatever reason that unfolds, due to the myriad of pressures parents today face because they cannot find financial security for their families; or, if they can—then they cannot find the time to make the necessary changes psychologically speaking.  If we do not fight for our own right to heal—our children will ever continue to suffer the consequences.

The more I see, the more I am convinced of the irresponsible decision it would be to bring one more child onto this planet.  I’m sure it would be one of the greatest joys in this world to bring a child of my very own into existence.  But then, I can’t help but think—would it truly be worth the inevitable sorrow of having to abandon that child in this world full of evil?

I can hardly stand how so many people find it so hard to believe how mentally ill we all are.  But denial is a powerful tool—it’s unfortunate, the destruction it perpetuates.  I just do not know how we will climb out of the grave we have so long been digging for ourselves.  It will truly take giving up the profit for the benefit of all humanity.  It makes me think about Blood Diamond and that diamond ring I’ve so long been waiting for.  I believe the time has come at long last—to give up on that particular dream.  But ohh I still have dreams—they just give shining light to my insides now, rather than shining light from my finger. 

I think the revolution will come when we all finally come to see how terribly ill we truly are.  And I’m talking men and women, children and adults, business executives and the homeless.  All of us are terribly ill in the head—brainwashed by a system that takes our money, our time, our souls and our hearts, and leaves us with nothing but to hang out and dry.  How long will we continue to be blind to the fact that money cannot buy us happiness? 

I find myself now wondering, after applying for a union research analyst position in Columbus, Ohio, whether I am perhaps exactly where I am supposed to be—and that perhaps it is only that I cannot yet see this and not that it is not so.  Make sense?  Somehow, in my job search even, I have found renewed strength.  Just because I do not want to work for an insurance, drug or finance company does not necessarily mean that there are no other places out there to work for that actually would be worth my time.  You just have to see this through Maris.  You have and continue to work towards putting good into this world, and I just know things are happening such that good will also be brought into your life.  Just keep your eyes, mind and heart open and I know the solution will come to you.  I have faith that you will find good in this world after all.  It’s really only just a matter of time now.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be my love—it’s just difficult as of yet to see how this possibly could be so.  But there is no doubt the universe is rearranging itself to make room for the likes of you.  You have so much to give and now the added benefit that you are mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually in a position to do so.  You just wait my dear—you have no idea what is in store.  But you will and the time is quickly approaching.   


Oh man thoughts, thoughts are racing through my head.  Nothing it seems can stop them, and the urgency of it all is really beginning to take its toll on me.  I’ve decided that some of the urgency might be relieved if I had some way to pay my bills.  I also decided that continuing on in my job search is the responsible thing to do—but, that I can also balance my available time with reading and writing and continuing to work on this book, and continuing to figure out ways to go about making this here dream really happen.

I was thinking earlier, and now the thought is lost.  Sorry about that…I suppose it will just have to wait.  My mother did call me to see if I wanted to go to that networking meeting with her tonight.  Or rather, if I didn’t want to go alone—she said she would be willing to go with me.  Either way, I think it couldn’t hurt, that’s for sure!  And so I will go and see what happens.  I suppose you never know.

You know, let me just tell you this.  I am so fucking sick, in this job search, of having to contort myself into whatever it is they are looking for.  Is it not enough to be a whole human being now?  Why are we content with a world where we cannot pursue our dreams, but rather have to work our lives away so others can pursue all of theirs and leave us by the wayside?  Why is it we are not willing to work to make a world in which all of us could pursue at least some of our dreams?  That way perhaps, in prioritizing our goals instead of just wanting wanting wanting more—everyone might have a chance to do that which makes them happy, instead of just the richest of the rich.  Could we not learn to give up the excess in our lives—all that we take because we can, but not necessarily because it adds any meaning or value to our lives?  Wouldn’t we be willing to sacrifice and trim these edges, so that others too could benefit and lead more fulfilled lives?  I think we’re so wrapped up in this addictive thinking that we find it difficult to see that what we really need—most of us already have.  When are we going to learn that maximizing wealth is not necessarily the most fulfilling way to live?  How much longer do we all have to wait? 

Here’s the fundamental issue I am finding to ring true in my search for employment.  I myself am going to have to sell out to the corporate world if I cannot make this book work.  And that’s a lot of pressure to handle—even for the most prepared of persons.  I just don’t know what I’m going to do.  God help me figure out what I need to do.  Help me to find the words to express that which I need to say.  Help me to be heard in a world full of people who have not even the time of day to give to their own children.  Help me to see more clearly why I am meant to be living, and how I am to go about fulfilling my destiny.  God help, please please help me.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what I am going to do.


I want to die.  I want to take my fucking education and debt to my fucking grave and not have to worry about it anymore.  I’m sick of the struggle.  I want to give up.  I want to give up and die.  It just doesn’t seem worth it in the long run and my tears don’t seem worth anyone’s time.  I don’t feel I have a friend in the world and I fucking want to end this fucking life already.  It just doesn’t seem worth the effort to make it through.  And what is the point of living anyway, if we are only able to do so through self-delusion?  For love?  For ever-fleeting, hardly-coming but always-going love?  I hardly think so.

I went to a network meeting tonight with mom and it was helpful I suppose, in an “I don’t know what to do with my life and being here makes that ever more clear” kind of way.  But whatever, I made my little contacts and tomorrow I shall follow up on them.  Tomorrow is a brand new day you say?  Well fuck your brand new day.  Fuck the world.  Fuck it all.  Fuck me for going to law school—silly me, I thought I could help the world.  Silly me—I thought I could help the world here in $135,000 worth of debt.  Silly me—I thought going and seeing a therapist and participating in the IOP would actually be helpful.  It seems here and now, that not one fucking damn’s worth of good has come from it all.  Do I need to be back on medication?  Dulling my senses to this evil world?  I don’t know how people get through all this shit so alone.  It is all so lonely.  I just want to lay down and die in my sleep tonight.  My mom gave me some herbal remedy—not my kind, but another.  Another licit kind.  Ohh my good god, give me foresight and strength.  I want more than anything to lay down tonight and die.  Please take me in my sleep and let it be that.  Please take me for good out of this hell on earth. 

I approach the frailty of human life once again on this fortnight.  I no longer want to live in a world that is so full of evil that we must dull our senses just to get by.  God take me back into your womb and let me sleep forevermore.

I really sometimes feel that my friends and family do not care about me at all.  They pay lip service to the notion—but words I hear and in the remaining silence I’m left wondering…is this it?  Is this love?  Well, if for no other reason, I live on to write about my pain and suffering because I am a human being and that is what (at least in theory) connects me to all other human beings.  And because I love it—to write, that is.  I will do what I love because it brings me happiness in my most despairing moments of darkness.  And so, I write on my friend, in my final effort for meaning.  Or maybe it is not yet my final effort; I guess I’ll have to tell you more about it from the perspective of tomorrow.  Till then…


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