New World

I have not posted in a while because I moved around the world. Yes literally, I'm now in a timezone 13 hours from my previous. This move has not been easy and I was reluctant to do it. But here we are. Now it's about survivng, adapting, thriving. Which is doubtful right now. These kind of challenges are highly emotional and bring out underlying issues.

So why did I do it? Simply, I wanted to get out of the boat. I wanted to walk on the waves. Secondly, I wanted to change the story of the rich young ruler. I didn't want to look back on my life and know that when told what I needed to be perfect, I went away sad. No I literally gave most everything away and gave up my life for this purpose.

And it's kicking my butt. Work is pointless. I get paid well to do basically nothing and am treated politley as if I'm in the way most of the time or given zilly llittle things just so I don't totally do nothing. Sounds good? Yeah, try it awhile. Nowhere to hang your hat. Nothing to get up for in the morning. Then there's family. We are much more in each others' space here and I am so far the only one with a schedule to force me out. So when I get home there's two bored people starving for attention I don't have to give. Problems to solve, fears to assuage. My teen is the worst. Needier than when an infant, fully capable of stepping out more, but too scared to do it. And when I push him out of the nest she flies into a rage at me.

Then there's the worst part, our apartment, provided by my employer in an old wooden structure with upstairs neighbors that are extremely loud on the floor, like hours of pounding, dropping, falling. I don't even really know if they are that loud in terms of decibels. Objective evidence is hard to get, but in any case, I find myself getting more and more agitated as it goes on. Some noises send me over the edge and I break something or scream, or collapse into full panic attack. I shake, sweat, heart pounds. I thought I might have some latent PTSD. But the  I read about misophonia, which is a neurological condition that causes these same reactions. Just perfect. Another rare and unheard of illness to confirm, cope with, and explain for the rest of my life. But it matches my history. I have always been very sensitive to overhead house noises and bass through walls. Like, if a neighbor has a stereo on, I have paced the floor for hours fighting the urge to go beat their door in and destroy the infernal machine. Now I'm trapped inside the machine and I can't take it.

I have started counseling and the therapist is recommending a psychiatrist...good luck way out here on the edge of the world. I talked to my employer and for cultural reasons I completely don't understand we can't get the people to be quiet. Though they may not physically be Bable to be quiet enough if I really do have a condition. So their idea to move us to a free standing quiet house is probably best. God, I'm hoping.

I even asked them if it would be easier just to let me go and I'd go home. But they didn't want to do that. We have a lead on a house, so please soon!

I don't know what I'm doing. I can't analyze or fix myself and I need lots of help to live here. I can completely understand why Peter feared and began to sink. I'm going down fast and can only say, "Lord, help me". You see there's no solid ground out here. It isn't all bad. There are points of grace and light, even some angels that don't know it. But this is hard to do.

Cloud

It's been a while since I posted and there's a reason for that.  A lot has happened.  I got busy with local non-profit stuff I do and on the way back from one of the events someone ran a red light and smashed my truck.  They hit right behind the driver door at about 50kph.  My truck spun out and stopped against a curb.  The lady dropped her phone an reached for it.  When she sat back up, WHAM!  she had two kids in the car and if she'd hit a fraction of a second earlier, she could have killed me and definitely would have injured me worse.  SO PUT THE FREAKIN' PHONE DOWN AND DRIVE RIGHT!

I walked out, but had a few bruises and some muscle strain in my neck and shoulder.  All in all, not a bad accident, thank God.

This all just after we made the decision to buy my wife a new car because hers was on the way out.  We hate to have a car payment, but we got a good deal and made the leap, then this.

See, they don't make my truck any more and certainly not driven so little.  With another car payment, I really didn't want to make two right now, so a new truck was out.  I did manage to get another truck, but it took some searching.  Prices have gone up and with so many major American companies ceasing to make small pickups, the used market is really hot for them.  It is a couple years newer, but has been driven more and is a bit more worn on the body.  But it's also better on gas and, being a Toyota, would be superior to an equal Ford (what I had before).  So vehicle is different, but a wash in the end.  Insurance covered basically the whole purchase, so I can't really complain, as long as this one turns out to be as reliable as my old one.  I haven't had it long enough to trust it fully.


But as you know, this blog is about contemplation, and that's what I do.  So I'm always looking for the greater lesson.  Certainly, I think there's something in that I may have been tacitly trusting in my station in life more than God himself.  I was sitting pretty well with no long term bills, a good job, plenty of disposable income (which we gave a good deal of to charity).  Amazing how fast that can disappear.  While nothing major happened in the end, it was enough to wake me up to this.

Secondly, I was thrown up against a bit of Job-like feeling.  I didn't do anything to deserve the wreck.  In fact I was doing more things right than many.  But apparently, that doesn't matter.  I know this logically, but for all of you who want to speak chiding platitudes to me, I reply, just let me come plow your classic car to bits and almost kill you in the process and let's see how you feel about it.  Your pat answers just make me angry.  I mean, I took care of that car and paid it off and was set to run it for the rest of my life, or nearly.  That was yanked right out from under me through someone else's negligence.  I think I have a right to process some emotions over it, even if they aren't entirely logical.

Add to that the deepest thing which will prevent this entry from being widely distributed.  Namely, that I sit too close to the edge of depression anyway.  If you are one of these people then you know what I mean.  If not, then thank God and either try to understand something you know nothing about, or just stop reading now, because you won't get this easily.  You see, this mental state doesn't go away.  If we are functional, it's through a series of coping strategies and masks...yeah, masks, we put on.  Because people don't get it.  They don't know what's it's like to have this darkness hovering just behind your eyes like a cloud.  Sure we joke about it and make cute donkeys or funny robots to parody it, but the reality is not amusing.  Imagine looking at any scenario and immediately seeing the worst cases, running them to conclusion, and then having to hunt for the good options if you can even see them.  Imagine that any joy or fun is constantly tainted by the shadow of the cloud behind your eyes and imagine having to worry if too much of that slips out and gives away too much of your inner struggles.

Our culture wants us to be happy and level.  Anything below the line is not accepted.  Try getting a job, being trusted with children, or even keeping friends that are good for you.  Of course different people react differently to it.  It isn't all just weepy, can't get out of bed stuff.  Some of us cope using anger and near rage.  The Linkin Park song describes it well.  That face on the inside never goes away, taunting, staring, laughing.  Some get destructive of self or other things.  And it doesn't take much to knock us over that slippery edge.

So for someone like me, these events carry a greater challenge to grasp for life at something that can hold me out from under that cloud.  I can feel it slipping when another idiot cuts me off in traffic and I have a near PSTD moment (not to belittle the true sufferers of this condition, but only to allude to it since it gets better press) with sweaty palms, racing heart, and raging temper.  Or when the neighbor plays his stereo too loud and I'm feeling my blood pressure rise with every vibration of the base.

I know I will get better.  I'm learning to deal with these things more quickly.  And there must be a reason for God taking me down this road.  I'm trying my best to trust him.  He is my refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble.  But if I slip up and complain a bit too much or seem more agitated than usual, cut me some slack, ok?  And keep your worn-out platitudes to yourself.  They don't help.  If you don't know what might be a platitude, it's anything you've ever heard more than one person say about a similar situation.  No matter how well-meaning you are, it is going to come off shallow and dismissive.  So just back off.  And if I offend you, I'm sorry.  But you offended me first.