Sam Harris - Waking Up
I haven't yet abandoned this blog. I have several posts in draft that I am working on publishing soon.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Solitary Confinement
Solitary confinement is considered a punishment inside a maximum security prison. Even when forced to live among murderers and rapists, most people still prefer the company of others to spending any significant time alone in a room. [Y]et contemplatives in many traditions claim to have experienced extraordinary depths of psychological well being while living in isolation or vast stretches of time.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Stealth House
The other day I bought a cargo trailer. It's a 6 x 12 round-nosed, single-axle with an RV door on the passenger side and a ramp door out the back. The guy I bought it from had it tucked away in his back yard and had used it to transport various toys to and from the dunes at Dumont. He installed faux marble vinyl floor tiles and faux cherry-wood vinyl planking on the walls. The adhesive of the vinyl tiles proved to be ineffective and he had remedied this by nailing all of them in place (floors and walls) with carpet tacks. To say it was tacky would be both the pun and the understatement of the month. He also installed a basic two-piece cabinet in the nose of the trailer and child-proofed the drawers and doors to keep them from opening during travel - except for the one nearest the door that presented the greatest injury hazard. In the three days it took me to get around to removing it, I'd bet I smacked an elbow or snagged myself in some way on that damned drawer a thousand times, minimum. I've since removed all of the above and curb-cycled the cabinet to a guy who'd just bought a passenger van and was converting it for use a mobile car-wash -- within ten minutes of posting it on Craigslist! Let's get back to my trailer though. It is now a basic cargo trailer without any interior accoutrements - yet, and a very sticky floor.
I've been studying the design and construction of "Tiny Homes" for several years now and am approaching this little project as a practical starter into that realm. One of the first things recommended when building a tiny house is to remove all but the necessary planking to support the sub-floor and cover it with metal flashing to effectively seal it against intrusion from weather, road debris or pests. In the stealth trailer this is somewhat different but the same protective measures need to be taken. In my particular trailer, and I suspect this is common to them, the floor is comprised of "S"-channel steel that runs laterally across the trailer which supports 3/4" plywood cut to shape and screwed into place. The odd part is that the walls are constructed around the base, rather than on top of it, as would typically be the case in "Tiny House" construction. This presents a slight problem to the cause of effectively sealing the underside of the floor from intrusion. Even if I were to essentially replace the current plywood with flashing and then build the sub-floor atop it, there would still be a clear path into the trailer from beneath it via the wall cavities that extend below the floor (I'm guessing that a photo is worth a thousand words here). Essentially, if the trailer were flooded with water, it'd run across the floor to the edges of the walls, run down and pour out between the two. That seems to be a likely design intent, however it makes preventing things getting in that way difficult. Possible solutions are:
Sovereignty eventually...
I've been studying the design and construction of "Tiny Homes" for several years now and am approaching this little project as a practical starter into that realm. One of the first things recommended when building a tiny house is to remove all but the necessary planking to support the sub-floor and cover it with metal flashing to effectively seal it against intrusion from weather, road debris or pests. In the stealth trailer this is somewhat different but the same protective measures need to be taken. In my particular trailer, and I suspect this is common to them, the floor is comprised of "S"-channel steel that runs laterally across the trailer which supports 3/4" plywood cut to shape and screwed into place. The odd part is that the walls are constructed around the base, rather than on top of it, as would typically be the case in "Tiny House" construction. This presents a slight problem to the cause of effectively sealing the underside of the floor from intrusion. Even if I were to essentially replace the current plywood with flashing and then build the sub-floor atop it, there would still be a clear path into the trailer from beneath it via the wall cavities that extend below the floor (I'm guessing that a photo is worth a thousand words here). Essentially, if the trailer were flooded with water, it'd run across the floor to the edges of the walls, run down and pour out between the two. That seems to be a likely design intent, however it makes preventing things getting in that way difficult. Possible solutions are:
- Make a "c-channel" out of some sort of mesh to fit over the end of the foam insulation and somehow affix it to the bottom most edge of the wall, extending on the "in" side up and into the floor of the trailer. This would, in theory, be the same method used when siding walls with wood and protecting the air-gap between the exterior wall and the siding from insects.
- Lots of flashing and silicone?
- Learn to weld?
Sovereignty eventually...
Letting Go
Lately, I've been thinking about the fine line between ambition and malaise. Discomfort can be useful, especially in service of progressive improvement, however there are times when I find myself criticizing everything around me without doing anything about it. By definition, that's malaise - discomfort in search of a cause. My point is that there are times when absolutely everything pisses me off. It's no fun for anyone involved. There are several people in my life right now who approach life from a caretaker's perspective. They don't make peace, they keep it - so to speak. Regardless, this is one of the reasons why being alone is seemingly productive to me. If I have as complete control as I can manage of my surroundings it becomes much easier to have as complete control as is possible of my emotions - and convert my malaise into ambition. Theoretically though isolationism is a poor coping mechanism, but in reality it's often the best I've got. There a times when having an isolationist bent is just plain ineffective - as is frequently the case when temporarily "staying" with one's family.
See, I lived in a motor-home full-time for the majority of 2014 (if memory serves) and when I eventually sold it I found I was unable to immediately replace it with something I felt worth having. Consequently, for the past few months I've been residing in, or near, my grandmother's driveway in a pop-up camper, and before that in a non-pop-up camper, both in the back of my truck. There have been several times when I've needed to perform various functions (laundry, shower, potty, or even sleep) in the house. Times like when the front half of my camper collapsed onto the roof of my truck or like when I decided to buy a camper without "facilities" and use a portable toilet. Neither of which experiences would I recommend to anyone. Most recently I've sold my pop-up camper in favour of something more discreet and have essentially "moved-in" as a result -- and it's driving me bat-shit crazy.
Getting back to my point, I'm attempting to find some way of functioning in an independent manner regardless of whether or not I'm surrounded by those who are definitely not. Which brings me to the title of this post. As a codependent, it's incredibly difficult to be around folks who behave in ways that encourage behaviours you're trying to curb. It's like an alcoholic literally residing in a bar. Often it seems that the only way to win is to not play. Isolationism again. However, all of the research I've done, and personal experience, suggests that the path to being at peace regardless of your company is to let go. Let go of expectations and interpretations. Let go of attachment to outside opinions and external identifiers. Easier said than done, I know. I'm only successful at it some of the time, and that quantity fluctuates greatly from day to day. Regardless, it seems to be the only path to tranquillity for me, rocky and tenuous though it may be.
Sovereignty eventually...
See, I lived in a motor-home full-time for the majority of 2014 (if memory serves) and when I eventually sold it I found I was unable to immediately replace it with something I felt worth having. Consequently, for the past few months I've been residing in, or near, my grandmother's driveway in a pop-up camper, and before that in a non-pop-up camper, both in the back of my truck. There have been several times when I've needed to perform various functions (laundry, shower, potty, or even sleep) in the house. Times like when the front half of my camper collapsed onto the roof of my truck or like when I decided to buy a camper without "facilities" and use a portable toilet. Neither of which experiences would I recommend to anyone. Most recently I've sold my pop-up camper in favour of something more discreet and have essentially "moved-in" as a result -- and it's driving me bat-shit crazy.
Getting back to my point, I'm attempting to find some way of functioning in an independent manner regardless of whether or not I'm surrounded by those who are definitely not. Which brings me to the title of this post. As a codependent, it's incredibly difficult to be around folks who behave in ways that encourage behaviours you're trying to curb. It's like an alcoholic literally residing in a bar. Often it seems that the only way to win is to not play. Isolationism again. However, all of the research I've done, and personal experience, suggests that the path to being at peace regardless of your company is to let go. Let go of expectations and interpretations. Let go of attachment to outside opinions and external identifiers. Easier said than done, I know. I'm only successful at it some of the time, and that quantity fluctuates greatly from day to day. Regardless, it seems to be the only path to tranquillity for me, rocky and tenuous though it may be.
Sovereignty eventually...
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Fucking Sandcastles
This week, I was all ready to write this long-winded piece about futility and frustration and other "F" words when I came across this article. It's too good to pass up and expresses my feelings about some of my struggles with aesthetics much more succinctly than I would ever have been able to.
Borrowed from a Maxim article.
Joe Rogan On Why Working Out Is Like Building A Sand Castle
The UFC commentator, comedian and podcast host opines about Arnold Schwarzenegger, Channing Tatum and why getting jacked is ultimately a waste of your time.
Joe Rogan is a UFC commentator, stand-up comedian and host of the Joe Rogan Experience podcast.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Catching Up
This blog is about regaining individual sovereignty over my emotions - and consequently my life. I'm a recovering codependent and probably always will be. I'm going to do my best to write this for no specific audience, though I may frequently fail at that. Total transparency's obviously not my strong suit. If that doesn't strike you as obvious I encourage you to read up on codependency.
My Ex-girlfriend has a blog (link omitted deliberately) and has had one since before we started dating. In it is an avalanche of evidence in support of my above claim about codependency. I was a fucking mess. I still read it regularly so, perhaps I am still an emotional mess. Maybe I'm just addicted to sorrow. Honestly I think I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Last night, after reading her most recent post about her visit to a psychic and a "tightness in her chest" about "that one thing", I decided to reach out and re-establish contact after more than a year since we last spoke. After about a twelve hour wait, she replied and we met at a coffee shop to "catch-up". Some tears were involved and I think some closure was had by both of us. It went fairly well, all things considered.
More about that in a moment; first some back-story. We dated on-and-off for nearly three years, and at several points I moved into and back out of her house. Essentially, we developed a pattern of break-up and make-up that was wreaking havoc on both our lives and on the emotional state of her two children. Our final breakup was unnervingly amicable - more on that later too, however there were very deep roots of attachment that made continuing contact a really bad and clearly painful idea.
It's been a long road since then, full of self-improvement efforts and various upheavals of my living and working situations. After the final break-up I moved out of my ex-girlfriend's house into a motor-home I purchased from a family member and sort of hunkered down through the holiday season. My memory is a bit foggy at this point but suffice it to say that I have been working on methods of addressing my emotions and trying my best to find/create "my authentic self" beneath the mess of coping mechanisms I'd built up over 30 years of willfully contorting my personality to fit whatever situation I'd find myself in at any given moment. There are a lot of different "diagnoses" for that particular behavior set but I identify it as primarily co-dependent behavior.
My ex-girlfriend helped me to understand and identify the unhealthy behaviors I was using to cope with the stresses of everyday life, working (or looking for work), living full-time with her and at least part-time with the children. Mostly passive-aggression and other forms of emotional manipulation. She helped me see the oppressive environment my behavior was creating. We worked together on the issue for a while but there came a time when our relationship started taking huge steps backwards. I verbalized a fear I'd had growing since I first realized what was required to address my issues; what if I this is as good as it gets? I can still remember standing in her kitchen and asking her that question. I recall vividly that I was thinking to myself, "Is she really going to tolerate my sporadic withdrawal and instability as long as it takes for me to fix this? What if this is something I can only "deal with" and it never really goes away"? Her answer was a very clear acknowledgment of the sum of my fears. She wouldn't live like this. Couldn't live like this. Suddenly, we both knew the goals we each had were working at crossed purposes.
... and just like that, it was over.
No fight, no yelling, no screaming, no blaming or finger-pointing, just done. Finished. It was like snapping a taut fishing line. No question, no struggling, just a lifeless rod with a tattered line hanging off the end and the promise of what-could-be lost into the abyss. It was shockingly anti-climactic.
I left the next day, feeling alone and broken inside - defective. I silently resolved to make something good from the mess in my heart and my head. I wanted to be right, to be better, to be fixed and be able to carry on a normal relationship. That was always the goal. At first, I wanted it for her. To show up one day and be okay inside - a normal guy. The one. Slowly - very slowly - I realized I could only make myself emotionally whole without her; without anyone. That hurt worse than I can ever remember anything hurting ever. It was like breaking up with every woman I'd ever felt anything for all at the same time. I literally wondered if it was possible to die from a broken heart. That lasted for a while.
Over the course of the next few months I read - a lot. It helped. I did my best to seek out support from my family and what few friends I had but not much came of that. Most of my family is severely codependent and in complete denial about it so naturally I felt radioactive any time I brought it up. I suppose I'm used to that though, being the only atheist in the clan willing to actually abstain from family prayer at holiday parties - and eventually abstaining from family events altogether. I'm definitely the black sheep among them. Anyway, I did my best to learn about my triggers for bending the truth and manipulating conversations to suit my emotional needs and stop myself from doing that. It was slow going at first; regularly catching myself asking leading questions and volunteering irrelevant personal information and plans for my future - in great detail - then being upset (internally) when met with anything other than glowing praise for my brilliance.
One day - shortly after my birthday I think - I read my Ex's blog and there was a post about me. My grandmother had called looking to wish me well and, of course, I hadn't updated her about our breakup, so she called my Ex. I was eager to prove that I was fine on my own and ostensibly show my Ex that I was "over it", so I called her. All I can remember about the ensuing conversation was that the first thing she said was "This conversation cannot lead to us getting back together." I saw red. I took it as a personal affront and reacted poorly. She'd called my subconscious bluff and I came folding down like a house of cards. It was the last time we spoke for a long time.
Months passed. I dated twice - both were unmitigated disasters. I seem to be attractive to the fix-it crowd and, being profoundly lonely, didn't stop it before it started and, being in the middle of fixing things myself, didn't react well to being manipulated. I have never been single so long in my adult life - naturally I kept tabs my Ex's blog. I love her, I care about her, I want to know what goes on in her life.
Eventually, my Ex posted a poem about me; about trying to forget me. I was a little hurt with the finality of it - okay more than a little. I'm not sure how long I'd been in denial about our relationship being irreparably severed, but there I was - facing a truth I'd somehow forgotten. There could only be one reason she would be actively trying to get me off her mind - someone new. That stung like a bastard-sword through the solar plexus - at least what I imagine a sword thereabouts would feel like. I'd told her to go date - not that she needed my permission, but all the same I'd tried in my mind to leave things closed between us over and over and over again and still it stung. It still felt like a betrayal - but it wasn't. That was the worst part - and it was far from the first time I've felt that unjustified pain. I responded anonymously with a fairly neutral "likewise" type of response. I didn't like the feeling of being erased - of no longer being relevant, but I couldn't deny the impropriety of my objections. It seems like no matter what I do I can't help but want to be a meaningful part of her life. Codependency 101 strikes again. At least I can recognize the buds and nip them now.
I've known for years now that emotional attachment runs deep in me. The only thing that seems to break a bond inside me is to violently rip the band-aid off and completely sever any potential reconciliation. I experienced this with another Ex a few years back when she got married. It's like my emotions refuse to let go until any chance of "making it work" is totally and irrevocably shot. It sucks and I hate it. It's like putting my heart through a blender. It beats the alternative though. I'll have a good private sob about it. Occasionally it'll pop back into my head but it's much easier to accept reality without the buoyancy of some hope that I can change things.
Getting back to the present, I met with my Ex over coffee this afternoon. She is, in fact, dating someone and has been for a while now. He sounds like a good guy and I'll leave it at that. Once again my chest felt like it collapsed temporarily when I brought it up and finally got it out of her. She was trying to protect me from the pain of it, the spirit of which I appreciate, but I think I needed to feel it. I needed a little reminder that "us" is just plain gone. It seems like I had developed a "maybe it was just bad timing and a few more months or years will yield an alignment" idea that was festering in my heart - closing me off to the "now". It's difficult for me to even write that. I keep wanting to edit it; to leave some room for error, for chance, for luck.
We ended the conversation by mutually multiply agreeing to check each others blogs and most probably leave it at that. She has something good right now and she needs to focus on that. I agree (despite how much it hurts) and will probably not reach out again for a long while.
Sovereignty eventually...
My Ex-girlfriend has a blog (link omitted deliberately) and has had one since before we started dating. In it is an avalanche of evidence in support of my above claim about codependency. I was a fucking mess. I still read it regularly so, perhaps I am still an emotional mess. Maybe I'm just addicted to sorrow. Honestly I think I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Last night, after reading her most recent post about her visit to a psychic and a "tightness in her chest" about "that one thing", I decided to reach out and re-establish contact after more than a year since we last spoke. After about a twelve hour wait, she replied and we met at a coffee shop to "catch-up". Some tears were involved and I think some closure was had by both of us. It went fairly well, all things considered.
More about that in a moment; first some back-story. We dated on-and-off for nearly three years, and at several points I moved into and back out of her house. Essentially, we developed a pattern of break-up and make-up that was wreaking havoc on both our lives and on the emotional state of her two children. Our final breakup was unnervingly amicable - more on that later too, however there were very deep roots of attachment that made continuing contact a really bad and clearly painful idea.
It's been a long road since then, full of self-improvement efforts and various upheavals of my living and working situations. After the final break-up I moved out of my ex-girlfriend's house into a motor-home I purchased from a family member and sort of hunkered down through the holiday season. My memory is a bit foggy at this point but suffice it to say that I have been working on methods of addressing my emotions and trying my best to find/create "my authentic self" beneath the mess of coping mechanisms I'd built up over 30 years of willfully contorting my personality to fit whatever situation I'd find myself in at any given moment. There are a lot of different "diagnoses" for that particular behavior set but I identify it as primarily co-dependent behavior.
My ex-girlfriend helped me to understand and identify the unhealthy behaviors I was using to cope with the stresses of everyday life, working (or looking for work), living full-time with her and at least part-time with the children. Mostly passive-aggression and other forms of emotional manipulation. She helped me see the oppressive environment my behavior was creating. We worked together on the issue for a while but there came a time when our relationship started taking huge steps backwards. I verbalized a fear I'd had growing since I first realized what was required to address my issues; what if I this is as good as it gets? I can still remember standing in her kitchen and asking her that question. I recall vividly that I was thinking to myself, "Is she really going to tolerate my sporadic withdrawal and instability as long as it takes for me to fix this? What if this is something I can only "deal with" and it never really goes away"? Her answer was a very clear acknowledgment of the sum of my fears. She wouldn't live like this. Couldn't live like this. Suddenly, we both knew the goals we each had were working at crossed purposes.
... and just like that, it was over.
No fight, no yelling, no screaming, no blaming or finger-pointing, just done. Finished. It was like snapping a taut fishing line. No question, no struggling, just a lifeless rod with a tattered line hanging off the end and the promise of what-could-be lost into the abyss. It was shockingly anti-climactic.
I left the next day, feeling alone and broken inside - defective. I silently resolved to make something good from the mess in my heart and my head. I wanted to be right, to be better, to be fixed and be able to carry on a normal relationship. That was always the goal. At first, I wanted it for her. To show up one day and be okay inside - a normal guy. The one. Slowly - very slowly - I realized I could only make myself emotionally whole without her; without anyone. That hurt worse than I can ever remember anything hurting ever. It was like breaking up with every woman I'd ever felt anything for all at the same time. I literally wondered if it was possible to die from a broken heart. That lasted for a while.
Over the course of the next few months I read - a lot. It helped. I did my best to seek out support from my family and what few friends I had but not much came of that. Most of my family is severely codependent and in complete denial about it so naturally I felt radioactive any time I brought it up. I suppose I'm used to that though, being the only atheist in the clan willing to actually abstain from family prayer at holiday parties - and eventually abstaining from family events altogether. I'm definitely the black sheep among them. Anyway, I did my best to learn about my triggers for bending the truth and manipulating conversations to suit my emotional needs and stop myself from doing that. It was slow going at first; regularly catching myself asking leading questions and volunteering irrelevant personal information and plans for my future - in great detail - then being upset (internally) when met with anything other than glowing praise for my brilliance.
One day - shortly after my birthday I think - I read my Ex's blog and there was a post about me. My grandmother had called looking to wish me well and, of course, I hadn't updated her about our breakup, so she called my Ex. I was eager to prove that I was fine on my own and ostensibly show my Ex that I was "over it", so I called her. All I can remember about the ensuing conversation was that the first thing she said was "This conversation cannot lead to us getting back together." I saw red. I took it as a personal affront and reacted poorly. She'd called my subconscious bluff and I came folding down like a house of cards. It was the last time we spoke for a long time.
Months passed. I dated twice - both were unmitigated disasters. I seem to be attractive to the fix-it crowd and, being profoundly lonely, didn't stop it before it started and, being in the middle of fixing things myself, didn't react well to being manipulated. I have never been single so long in my adult life - naturally I kept tabs my Ex's blog. I love her, I care about her, I want to know what goes on in her life.
Eventually, my Ex posted a poem about me; about trying to forget me. I was a little hurt with the finality of it - okay more than a little. I'm not sure how long I'd been in denial about our relationship being irreparably severed, but there I was - facing a truth I'd somehow forgotten. There could only be one reason she would be actively trying to get me off her mind - someone new. That stung like a bastard-sword through the solar plexus - at least what I imagine a sword thereabouts would feel like. I'd told her to go date - not that she needed my permission, but all the same I'd tried in my mind to leave things closed between us over and over and over again and still it stung. It still felt like a betrayal - but it wasn't. That was the worst part - and it was far from the first time I've felt that unjustified pain. I responded anonymously with a fairly neutral "likewise" type of response. I didn't like the feeling of being erased - of no longer being relevant, but I couldn't deny the impropriety of my objections. It seems like no matter what I do I can't help but want to be a meaningful part of her life. Codependency 101 strikes again. At least I can recognize the buds and nip them now.
I've known for years now that emotional attachment runs deep in me. The only thing that seems to break a bond inside me is to violently rip the band-aid off and completely sever any potential reconciliation. I experienced this with another Ex a few years back when she got married. It's like my emotions refuse to let go until any chance of "making it work" is totally and irrevocably shot. It sucks and I hate it. It's like putting my heart through a blender. It beats the alternative though. I'll have a good private sob about it. Occasionally it'll pop back into my head but it's much easier to accept reality without the buoyancy of some hope that I can change things.
Getting back to the present, I met with my Ex over coffee this afternoon. She is, in fact, dating someone and has been for a while now. He sounds like a good guy and I'll leave it at that. Once again my chest felt like it collapsed temporarily when I brought it up and finally got it out of her. She was trying to protect me from the pain of it, the spirit of which I appreciate, but I think I needed to feel it. I needed a little reminder that "us" is just plain gone. It seems like I had developed a "maybe it was just bad timing and a few more months or years will yield an alignment" idea that was festering in my heart - closing me off to the "now". It's difficult for me to even write that. I keep wanting to edit it; to leave some room for error, for chance, for luck.
We ended the conversation by mutually multiply agreeing to check each others blogs and most probably leave it at that. She has something good right now and she needs to focus on that. I agree (despite how much it hurts) and will probably not reach out again for a long while.
Sovereignty eventually...
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