The fear of what will happen to the economy during the pandemic permeates our daily lives. Politicians, entertainer-journalists, and your friends and neighbors are frightened about the financial future. "What will happen to the economy?"

The Fantastical Beast Economy

I am fascinated that we refer to the economy like the weather. As if we do not have any control over it, the economy roams the planet devouring currency and disrupting markets. We lose jobs, our homes and possessions because of 'the economy.' The value of our labor and the products and services we offer changes because of 'the economy.' Leaders suspend protective laws, start wars, and base taxes on 'the economy.' If the economy isn't a creature like the Loch Ness monster or a force of nature like a hurricane, what exactly is it?

The definition of the word revolves around the production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services. We are the producers, the distributors, and the consumers. So do we fear ourselves? If the economy collapses we are out of work and cannot afford to consume. It's an ouroborus, the serpent eating its own tail. Or is it? We are the force behind the economy. Perhaps the problem we will face after the pandemic isn't 'the economy,' but what we choose to value.

Worth

As individuals we have different interests and passions. A Michael Jordan autographed photo has little value for myself and others. However, there are those who would pay top dollar for his authentic autograph. Of course, there is some complexity there. Were I to have stumbled onto a Jordan autograph, I may be tempted to find someone who would pay a pretty penny for it. This is how our society operates, trading valuables for promissory notes.

Prior to the 1930s many countries used the gold standard to back currency. A dollar represented a number of ounces of gold. Like the example above, I don't really have a need for gold. I don't create electric circuits or desire gold jewelry. Yet, gold was a commodity that one could trade for necessary items like food and clothing. Whether currency is backed by gold or not, I cannot deny that it is nice to have a standard accepted by everyone.

Once again, we are talking about representation. Money and the system obscure what is happening and the real value being traded. The economy represents production, distribution and consumption of goods and service. Currency now represents monetary policy, instead of gold. We've agreed I should be paid currency for my production. I will use the currency to pay others for their goods and services. During the COVID-19 pandemic, there is less production as we get ill and stay home. Though, we all still need to consume necessities. Thus, 'the economy' is failing?

'The economy' is about our work and consumption, right? Money is a stand-in for the things we need and desire. The currency is used to bridge the gap in what each of us value. I make a wooden chair, you trade me some promissory notes that I can exchange for some shoes from someone else. With my very basic and general understanding of 'the economy' it is hard to understand how it can fail. Of course, I am not getting into the speculation market and stock exchange. Perhaps that is what we fear will fall apart, not the economy.

Value

One definition for 'value' is worth. Another is meaning. The fact that nurses and doctors are working incredible hours in dangerous conditions during the pandemic is not about monetary worth. What they are doing has meaning far beyond currency. After being in a car accident, the value of my partner holding and consoling me is worth more than a suitcase full of currency to pay for a new car. No one wants the money for cancer treatment, they need the treatment.

Without promissory notes people barter. Prisoners find value in barter since cash is hard to come by and perhaps not worth as much as tobacco or real cheese. When Greece went through the recent financial crisis a barter economy emerged. In fact, the website created for this barter market in Greece exchanges credits similar to bank notes. So what is the difference? I would argue connection. A small community of people bartering is building a network of human connection. The value bleeds into meaning. We often take pride in helping others. We trust the people in our networks and those closest to us. Emotional connection creates a healthier society. Perhaps one where N95 masks are given freely to those in need and not hoarded for profit.

The 1913 Liberty Head Nickel

The economy represents how we interact with each other and currency seems more like a placeholder. That Michael Jordan autograph may be worth a new TV to you, but I would likely only value the paper it was written on. I want the paper, you want the autograph, neither one of us needs the bank notes in reality. We only use them to represent value we create. There are only 5 Liberty Head Nickels. To a collector this single coin could be worth $2-4 million dollars. To the bank, the coin is still only worth $.05. Value is in the eye of the beholder, so how will our economy fail? The stock market, or gambling on the how people may value future goods, may indeed fail.

One of the disadvantages of the gold standard was the distribution gold deposits. This means some countries would have more than others and that could limit trade and growth.'The economy' is a system born from us. It is not as important as what we value. Perhaps the pandemic is an opportunity to examine what worth truly is?

#Economy #Capitalism #worth #value #money

The expected results are always easier to deal with than the unexpected. Consciously or not, I have had a tendency to throw myself under the bus. I know how to deal with failure and defeat. Success, in my mind, is just postponing the next failure. I am even more anxious after a success because I am waiting for the next shoe to drop. In fact, give me a hot minute and I'll convince myself I was not successful at all.

The first delivery person in history carried a package from one person to another. Eventually, they started doing more deliveries and got a cart. Soon they upgraded to a horse-drawn wagon, a flatbed truck and finally a semi-trailer truck. Now imagine the packages are personal traumas. Often we carry these around with us. I've got a fleet of semis following me. Rather than letting go of the traumas, working through the issues, and forgive myself, I add more trucks to the fleet. When I make a mistake, which is a great opportunity to learn, I look back at the thousands of trucks. Those semis contain evidence of past mistakes and failures. My mind believes a clear pattern and a self-fulfilling prophecy is at work.

If I have my arms out, carrying all these packages for decades, I would have no idea what to do without them. What do I do with my arms if I don't have all these gift-wrapped traumas? So, I ensure my arms still have work by creating my own problems. I know I shouldn't have too much sugar because of my diabetes, so I'll just eat all the ice cream. I get the satisfaction of delicious sugar and then the amazing shame in knowing I should not have done that. Procrastination serves up some daily pain. I make a to-do list that is so long that five people couldn't finish it and then I get overwhelmed and do none of it. The next day, I add more to that same list and my week becomes full of fail. I keep myself in this abysmal state because I am familiar with it.

Depression, Anxiety, and Addiction

It's well known that depression and anxiety are like conjoined twins. They feed off each other in many of us. Occasionally, they are joined by their sibling, addiction. The cycle often goes trauma, depression and/or anxiety, and then addiction to dull the pain. The word addiction typically makes us think of substance abuse, from psychedelics to alcohol and caffeine. There are also behavioral addictions like gambling, video games, porn, and social networks like Instagram.

Dulling the pain with addiction is also feeding it. *Add a new truck to the fleet because I know I shouldn't be doing this. Anxiety flairs to hide the shame of it all. Depression builds until you can take no more and need to get another hit. The dopamine kicks in and you feel alright. Lather, rinse, repeat.

More than once I have heard people propose the question of being addicted to the depression or anxiety. These are behaviors of sorts, right? Could it be possible? If porn lights up the same parts of a brain in a scan as heroin, could the feeling of anxiety? One of Norman Doidge's books talks about people's brains that have been rewired to feel pleasure from pain. He specifically referred to a study of people who enjoy BDSM. The pain center of the brain has been linked to the pleasure center in many of these individuals. Could my brain be wired in a similar way? I want to be in pain?

Sabotage

Is my pain all I know and I wouldn't function without it? Maybe the familiarity and predictability simply a comfortable place for me? Is my brain specifically wired to give me shame and worthlessness? Regardless of the reason, self-sabotage isn't always so easy to notice.

New things are scary because of my fear of failure. So is it sabotage if I say, "no" to an opportunity because I will miss out? Or is it sabotage if I say, "yes" to the project since, deep down, I feel that I will completely screw up? On one hand, I feed depression by denying the opportunity. I can look back at the past and wonder what would have happened. If I accept the opportunity, I get a dose of anxiety about my possible failure.

"Get busy living, or get busy dying." This quote from The Shawshank Redemption is some toxic, tough love I give myself. I know being stagnant, frozen in overwhelm is not helping me. It's a long game sabotage. I can look back on my life yearsfrom now and think, "If only I realized my worth sooner. How much more could I have done?" Telling myself to get busy pushes me further into depression.

In Ian McEwan's latest fiction Machines Like Me new, artificially intelligent androids die by suicide. While half of them choose this option, there is one who seems to have deleted most of his software, essentially giving himself a lobotomy. The theory in the book is that this android attempted suicide and couldn't go through with it, leaving him in this state of minimal functions. I started to wonder when reading this is suicide the ultimate self-sabotage?

In my own struggles with thoughts of suicide, I have found myself thinking of lesser punishments or personal sabotage. Frequently, I've thought that I am such a burden to my loved ones that I should run away and be homeless. This fantasy is about removing myself from life as I know it. When I have those days or weeks when I don't want to get out of bed, it's in this same vein. Paralyzed in bed is hiding from my pain, fear, and shame. Or, I imagine being locked away in a psych ward where I cannot harm myself or others. These are all examples of me giving up. The twisted dreams of a sabotage one step away from ending it all.

The real danger of self-sabotage is when I cannot carry any more packages. When I look back and I can no longer see the horizon because of all the semi-trailer trucks full of the things I refuse to let go of. The fact that I can sit here and talk about self-sabotage is a testament to my resolve (at this moment). If I can notice it, I can do something about it.

Introspection

Philip K. Dick said, "The problem with introspection is that it has no end." Somewhere in this blog I have spoke about being present. Surely, I warned myself, and others, about getting caught up in the sadness of the past and the anxiety of the future. I think I have said that now is the only time that I really need to focus on. I recall offering the advice that each new moment, every 7-10 seconds, is a chance to change. The idea being many of our emotional states last this long. The catch is that we can use that time to trigger an additional 7-10 seconds of the same feeling. This is where I am lost. I am dwelling in the sadness and shame of my perceived worthlessness. Each time I start a sentence in this blog with "I," there is a desire to type "hate myself."

I have been here before. How did I get out? I don't remember, but maybe the important thing is that I did get out. In fact, my urge is to run away. All those lesser suicide options above are clues. I have been trying so very damn hard to be productive and pour myself into tasks. Another sign that I am avoiding the pain in hopes it will pass in the next moment. Self care of meditation, mindfulness, and art are no longer practiced. My mind thinks that those strategies obviously didn't work. So, why bother?

After sitting down to write this, I think my mind is somewhat right about those self-care strategies. While perfectly useful, at this point they are less effective. As I said, those fantasies of running away are the clue. It is time to stop running and do the opposite. What if I step into the pain and suffering? Allowing myself to feel those emotions and go deeper into Chris and find the version of me that wrote about being present. He's here, but he's buried under the fear, shame, embarrassment, insecurity, and guilt. I need to forgive myself for all the self-sabotage. I need to thank my inner critic for carrying all those packages of trauma. Even though my critic has mentally beaten me severely, he did it to protect me. Misplaced anxiety and fear sabotaged me in hopes to keep me from collecting more trauma. I have to learn to trust myself and that mistakes are how I learn to be better. Now, in this moment, I'm going to have a good cry.

Be kind to yourselves. Much <3 to you all.

#MentalHealth #MentalWellness #Depression #Anxiety #suicide

Are you taking an antidepressant? Something for anxiety, ADHD, or another medication for a neurological condition? You have my respect and I want you to know that you're an amazing hero.

Imagine being give the choice to lose an arm or a leg. The first impulse is "how about neither!" This is similar to the choice presented by medication. The side effects of most medication put us in a no-win situation. "Side effects include" an endless list of terrible is a commonly used joke on sketch comedy shows. When it comes to antidepressants, many of the side effects harass the mind and brain. When I was on Effexor there were people warning me about brain zaps. In my case, I experienced no such thing until I started tapering off the drug. It was excruciating.

In one of the interviews for my upcoming podcast, my guest told me she was on something like her sixth medication! Various reasons led to being on so many drugs over the years. Either insurance stops covering a certain drug, the company stops making it, or the med was a bad fit. As I briefly mentioned above, many of these mind altering drugs require you to taper off of them by taking a lower dosage for a month, and then an even lower one, etc. So here you have this thing that may not be working for you, but if you quit it outright, you'll be feeling worse. Your friends and family on antidepressants are incredible to endure that.

Buzzing, dizziness, nausea, pain, headaches, and migraines are just the stuff that I can explain. The brain zaps were terrifying. At times my head has felt like it was in the jaws of a steam shovel or a very tight hat. Sometimes, it is too much work to focus my eyes. Weird sensations behind my ears, eyes, or the back of my head are off-putting and distracting. "I'd love to listen your story, but I think part of my head may be an open wound."

Avoid Calories By Eating Calories?

The combination of side effects can be debilitating for someone who was already having trouble. When I'm feeling like there's little to live for, getting out of bed and showering seems moot. Sure, let's add a medication that makes me nauseous and gives me a headache. I'm certain to leave the bed. All better. It makes no sense!

The experts tell us these things take time. So far, I've been told it will take at least a month for the medication to get into my system and start working. So you're depressed, not leaving the house and you're given a medication that will initially enforce this routine. In addition, you've reached out for help and been prescribed this drug as a solution. When you cannot get out of bed it can feel like the medication doesn't work for you. This is how broken I am. Nothing will help.

I've been going through this daily for a month. Is this worth it? Maybe I am just not treatable. However, asking for a new medication was a necessity. I was flirting with self harm, having thoughts that were disturbing. I felt proud that I had reached out. I took the new pills with water and hope. Then, things got worse. It's hard to help yourself when you cannot think straight. Getting to a therapy appointment is difficult when you cannot leave your bed.

This is why I think people taking SSRIs and SNRIs are pretty damn amazing. When I sit down in any mental health group, I am always in awe by the brave people being so vulnerable. I often think, "these are the people who should be in charge, the politicians and leaders of our world." That's what Brené Brown is usually spouting, "you cannot have bravery without vulnerability." It just blows my mind that someone with any mental disability would ask for medication that is going to challenge them even further. Seriously, if you're not on meds but you know someone that is, tell them how incredible they are. It's like seeing a tsunami headed for you and grabbing a brick to hold you down instead of a life jacket. These individuals are super human. They deserve your respect and love. They have mine. Now, I have to go lie down or cry, or both.

Wait. I feel like I need to embrace some positivity. Can side effects like dizziness and nausea be useful? I suppose it's like pinching yourself to know you're alive. The meds do keep me from feeling like doing self-harm, and those sensations are a reminder that I'm living. I suppose every time I feel as if I need to close my eyes and lie down before I vomit, it is a reminder that I am still here. I am still trying.

What should you be doing right now, instead of reading this? If I were you, this is the question that would ruin the rest of my day, and likely the entire week.

In an interview, author Mark Mason was telling the story about how Everything Is F*cked A Book About Hope came to be. Manson was making money passively, as his previous book continued to sell. Currently, The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck has sold 6 million copies. Manson was sitting at home, not getting out of his pajamas and playing video games. In the interview, he said he feared he had peaked. Manson had made his mark with that book. There was no plan or goal beyond having a successful book. The latest book is how he got through that funk. As a listener, I couldn't fathom thinking I would ever hit my peak.

In my reality, I am never satisfied with my progress. Anxiety's leash is constantly tugging me through the neighborhood of dissatisfaction. If the house is clean, I should probably go through the closets, scrub the grout of the tile, or fix the screens. Another common tactic is to change the perspective. Sure, the house is clean, but I'm behind on my podcast scheduling and editing. I'm not working out. Perhaps Manson's fear of peaking was in a similar vein, "what's next?" Regardless, I would love to feel as if I accomplished something for more than a fleeting moment.

Where to Begin?

Instead of writing this, there's a million tasks waiting for me. To list them all would take my lifetime. I've tried many time to organize my thoughts and prioritize them into a coherent plan. Sometimes this helps me manage the overwhelming feeling that runs me into depression. However, I mostly vacillate between overwhelmed and hopeless. The act of sitting down to prioritize things just becomes another thing on the list. My mental health, meditation, and self care all fall onto this distressing list of tasks that has me depressed.

As the cycle of depression continues to deepen, the source of these feelings become apparent. I am not enough. This core believe in my mind is driving the dissatisfaction in everything I do. *The house is clean, so what? I'm not enough. Unfortunately, knowing this is the reason of my pain hasn't offered much relief. When I'm in so deep that I've let go of the things that previously worked, like meditation and artwork, it is incredibly hard to start again.

I was merely keeping my head above water, but I was still lost at sea. I didn't meditate enough. The medication may work for others, but it's not enough for me. The narrative that I'm defective, undeserving, and not enough bleeds into everything. Exploring the origins of this belief is part of therapy. Working through those emotional memories in therapy may eventually bring some change. Sitting with, and tending to, the hurt child within me is supposed to help me manage better today. The idea being that an event, like a messy house, triggers that childhood emotional response of I'm not enough that I felt when I had a messy desk at school and got shamed for it in class. If I can work through that pain and hurt, it may be less likely to be triggered in the future.

Meanwhile I Am Still A Prisoner of Time

Engaging painful emotions is challenging for the most devout Buddhist monks, let alone an average person. All the while, the house does need to be cleaned. I do need to workout, pay bills, and walk the dog. The never-ending list only grows. It never contracts. Each new task is a new brick in my unbreakable backpack from the Not Enough™ store. I grow weary with it on my back and look over the edge of the mountain trail wondering what the drop would feel like. Avoiding the overwhelming list is not an option.

In the past, I've found journaling, or listing things far more helpful than thinking about them. Seeing the tasks, ideas, or fears in black and white can shed much more light on them. Sometimes this helps avoid the loops my anxiety and depression favor. A goal like "tomorrow I just want to be a success" is unrealistic and undefined and when I see it on the paper. In my mind it is a lighthouse looming over ever passing accomplishment.

In the past, I've also written about S.M.A.R.T. goals. I haven't used them in practice as much as I like, but that's likely because the strategy has fallen victim to my vicious loop of depression. I used the practice successfully for a few months to start working out and then I stopped. Thus, the practice must not work for me. Once again, the depression and its Not Enough put a stop to something that may have been helpful. Obviously, if there's one common thing that we humans stumble over again and again it is working out. I'm not alone. Even in writing this I had to admit I was successful when I made a SMART goal to workout. It lasted quite a long time, in fact.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Sometimes I feel like I've written all this before. Anyone who has read my blogs for the last two years must be bored and frustrated with me. "This guy still hasn't learned. He keeps saying the same thing over and over." Perhaps that is what recovery looks like. If continued use of alcohol can lead to addiction, then maybe working through the same thoughts will result in something sticking.

Re-framing the tasks that overwhelm me can help, but the real work is still in self-worth. That emotional pain that triggers tears even as I write this is a tremendous weight. My eyes water because I am ashamed that I'm not enough to figure this out. Like a race car, I go around and around, eventually ending up in the pits. Then, I have to lift myself up and get ready for the coming laps.

"The best part about waking up is..." being alive. It's not Folgers in my cup or any other 'breakfast is good for you' marketing myth. Yet, it is the most difficult part of my day. The reality of the life I have lived and the insurmountable future ahead come crashing into me as I become conscious. I don't know what to have for breakfast or care, because of all the past/future on my mind. Life is complex and scary. For me, it becomes problematic and I start to wonder if it is worth it.

The way I self-medicated in the past was junk food breakfast. Donuts, Pop Tarts, and all kinds of sweets. Start the day immediately in avoidance. Give me something to make me forget about my existence. Diabetes forced me to change that habit. I worked hard to get a healthy breakfast routine. Though I like variety, I probably ate the same thing for breakfast for a year straight after learning to control my blood sugars. The sucrose morning treats were postponing my existential crisis with a sugar rush and then I would have to refill throughout the day, lest I wanted bear the weight of living.

I broke my healthy breakfast streak and let go of the diabetes worries as I started working on my mental health in groups and seeing a psychiatrist. It was a reward system. I spent the day working on stuff that is really uncomfortable. I am eating this entire large bag of M&Ms. I deserve it. Breakfasts have fallen into the old pattern again. Sweets for breakfast lead to shame for lunch and dinner.

The shame is all about my unworthiness. The impregnable feeling that I am undeserving and unlovable goes hand-in-hand with option D on every one of my decisions, suicide. Living with shame available in every single thought is torture. I can't speak for others, but I wonder if those who have taken their own lives came to a point where they decided they can never outrun the shame. Imagine, years of telling yourself "I must do more, be better." Regardless of your successes, that voice is ever present. When you finally acknowledge you've reached success, when you can actually see it, that voice is still there. Did Robin Williams realize that he had made it through drug abuse, beat the odds of being successful in comedy and Hollywood, creating a family, and in that clarity heard the shame and decided to quiet it once and for all?

Food For Thought

Is my breakfast choice really a life or death question? I think in some ways it is. I do believe suicide has been in my mind more lately. It's interesting that one of the things keeping me from ending my life is shame. That's right, the same force that rubs my every thought, desire, and relationship against a cheese grater of unworthiness is also keeping me alive. Suicide is for the weak. What a let down I will be. People will blame themselves. Others will be relieved and say good riddance. And, of course, my mind worries at all the critiques of my method of execution. "That was an idiotic way to commit suicide. Who knew he was such a moron?" It's weird. Chris is completely shame-powered. So, I eat my feelings. The loop is shame-sugar-shame.

Nobody wants to talk about suicide. It's uncomfortable and scary. Maybe that's why everyone was so struck by the loss of Robin Williams. He had no one to talk to about this subject. If the subject you want to talk about is taboo, it is a good chance that thoughts about it feel taboo and become shameful. When society does talk about suicide it is usually an investigation into a mystery, "How could this have occurred? We had no idea!" We never speak of it as a choice. Society argues about when a group of cells becomes a fetus and its right to life, but Dr. Kevorkian is evil for letting people decide their own fate. Society has chosen to think that suicide is a result of mental illness. One cannot be in their "right" mind to want to end their own life. Biologically, it is an interesting argument. Much of our mental health issues related to stress and anxiety can be traced back to the our fight or flight response, the one that kept our ancestors alive in a very different world. So yes, like animals there's something inside us that wants to live. Unlike other animals, we have this ability to think.

Chicken Egg Situation

Is it the shame that triggers option D, or suicide that trigger the shame? I don't have answers, only thoughts. Many are joyous, many are not. Before, I was "too busy" to consider these deeper questions. They hung in the background while I tried to be productive, earn, and move up in the world. My avoidance strategy was a combination of sugar, entertainment, and work. I replaced that with new things that I learned, the coping I described in a previous entry. I let go of what was working because it wasn't working fast enough. I was not cured. I went back to what I had done in the past, but I've burned out a lot quicker. Hopefully, this is all part of learning, creating new neural pathways, and trimming the old ones down. Whatever it is, I'm exhausted. My tanks are empty and I'm vulnerable. Something crawls at the edge of my perception, telling me to sit down and paint, to create. Unfortunately, the shame of doing something for my undeserving is so much louder at the moment. I should be working. I should be making money. I should be like everyone else.

Compromise, I'm writing. Pain is personal. Those closest to me always want to know how they can help. You aren't responsible for what myself or anyone else is going through. Our minds create our own realities. You can help by validating those of us with pain. Yours isn't a position of fixer, but one of listener. You can bring me joy by reaching out. My mind will create the narrative that you're doing it out of guilt because you read this, but if you keep reaching out it will challenge this belief. Being heard is so important, but sometimes we don't want to talk. You can still be there. It can be draining for me to manage all the anxiety when being around people. And so, I isolate. One on one, with friends I trust are still stressful with my thoughts of unworthiness and fear of saying or doing the "wrong" thing, but the volume is less intense. I forget this and don't reach out. It seems unfair to put some onus on others, but hey, you asked how to help. Maybe you should bring me breakfast?

#shame #suicide #fear #food

mirrored this post on my donations page at ko-fi

I've finally finished remastering all my Morning Mantras for Insight Timer. The last 3 are waiting for approval. It was nice to go back to them and clean them up after having done six. I think I prefer these recordings on the app to the ones posted on my site. Also, it didn't hurt to listen again. I'm in a space where I really need them. I've struggled now for a couple months. The desire to 'be better,' cured, or at least see some progress has brought me down. Editing the Morning Mantras was a good way to remind myself that this is a process I have to stick with. Speaking of, I have plans for what I think is the final Morning Mantra. I just need to re-examine my research into the topic since I paused to edit the old files. While it may be my last Morning Mantra, I have received a lot of comments and encouragement from Insight Timer users. Thus, I may work on other topics of mindfulness and meditation, but I will probably drop the mantras.

Mental Health Podcast

I recorded my first interview some time ago and that turned out to be more difficult than I thought. My guest rescheduled because of the difficult topic. My second interview has expressed concern as well. None of us like the stigma that plagues mental health, but it is deeply personal. In fact, I worked on the script for the first episode briefly after the interview, but I have had a hard time going back to it, myself. I also have a forum up for the podcast and have even posted some brief topics for people, but cannot seem to invite anyone to the site. I have a meeting with my network contact coming up soon, so I guess I need to face my fears.

Peer Support Training

On my Ko-fi page, I have Peer Support Training listed as a goal. This is something I wanted a year or two ago. I go back and forth with this. Mainly, it's fear and self-worth again. I'm not good enough to help myself, so why should I deserve to help others? Aside from my new found joy in creating art, I still feel that deep down I am meant to use my communication skills to talk about and help my fellow humans. Peer support training seems like a good start. The classes that I've found are 3+ hours away and around $420. I still have much work to do on myself and the certification certainly won't entitle me to gainful employment in my area. In fact, it wouldn't likely help me anywhere in North America, since so little is spent on Mental Health. Thus, I'm not upset that it will take me a while to raise that sort of money through donations and my store. The training is for me, anyway.

Motivation is a real hard spot for me right now. I have a blog post I've been writing the last couple of days on this subject, but I'm struggling with expressing this hopelessness I feel. Or, maybe that dark melancholy is even stopping me from sharing these feelings.

Anyway, I wanted to thank those that visited my store during the last sale. I'm trying to stay on top of the sale codes and promote them. It's hard, when I'm still working on liking myself, to promote the work. Plus, all the amazing people on the Insight Timer app have really given me a boost. So, if you made it here from the app, thank you so very much!

"You're not responsible for the emotions of others."

This is something I've heard often in therapy, groups, and through other resources. Logically, it makes sense. If you could make someone feel love for you, there would be no need for dating. No, people are in charge of their own emotions. It may not always feel that way to us. Sometimes it seems like the emotions are in control, not the other way around. Dealing with emotions is a whole topic of its own. What I sat down to write about was healing yourself while being in relationships.

Much of my depression appears to stem from my worth as a person in this world. For years I have lived off the validation from others. I was desperate to impress everyone, parents, grandparents, teachers, friends, and strangers. Their praise was all I had because I did not love myself. I was ashamed of who I was. I used to joke that if I became President that one of my grandmothers would have said, "I think you can do better. That job doesn't pay that much does it, Christopher." That was my joke, these are not direct quotes from grandma. This is how I saw myself-- never good enough.

The path to healing is to find a way to love who I am, in this moment. I cannot change my past and fearing the future only leads to more trouble. However, I'm not alone in this journey. I have a partner and family. They say you don't choose your family. Would my partner have chosen to marry me if my depression was written into the contract? I was miserable when a former partner went through depression. In fact, I left. I grew up with my mother locked away in her room. When my father tried to talk me out of leaving my former partner, I told him that I didn't know how he could live like that. My mother told me that hurt him a lot, to hear me say that. Again, dwelling on the past or unseen futures is not typically helpful with depression. Though, here in the present, my mental illness is a factor in our relationship.

The shame of being unworthy is fueled by that past memory, but the difference here and now is communication. This is a key part of my healing and relationship. My personal message that "I can do better" is supposed to motivate me, but telling myself it over and over has convinced me that I'm not enough. It doesn't matter which relationship, mother, sister, spouse, I'm not enough. That desire for outside validation that I mentioned earlier morphed into a new shame delivery system.

"That person is just being polite. They know I'm not really talented, important, or helpful," I thought.

Therefore, communicating with my partner openly is far more helpful than listening to that punishing voice in my head. This is a double-edged sword, sharing my thoughts and emotions like this. Openly sharing has her trying to create a map of pitfalls to avoid. No one wants to see someone they love hurting. So, what are the situations we need to navigate around to avoid Chris feeling pain?

The map is a myth. Even now, as I write this, I'm hoping to stumble on my own map to help her navigate my depression. You're not responsible for the emotions of others. Our minds are unique to the moment we are in. Our brains have plasticity and are constantly changing. There is no ranking sadness, anger, happiness, fear, surprise, and disgust. Each has the ability to overcome the others. Something that would normally disgust you to eat, may not look bad if you haven't eaten in 10 days. Fear of death is a big scary thing to some of us, but sadness of depression can easily dull the fear. Happiness that your partner is alive after a crash can overpower the anger or sadness you feel at losing your father's classic car. The point is, we cannot predict what others will feel. We barely have control of our own emotions.

Where Are We Then?

I share, it concerns my partner, and we're both left uneasy. If it was just me alone, my depression wouldn't affect anyone, right? This is depression talking again. That desire to isolate and shield ourselves away from any feeling whatsoever.

Now what?

Maybe the clues are above. My partner is concerned, she is affected by what I am going through. Her desire to avoid pitfalls is far more important than anything else. That's love. In that moment, she's trying to help. The same goes for me as I write this. The worry that our mental health is a burden on those around us is based in a fear of future pain. I'm missing that key present moment, she's doing everything to help. Her fear that she's not saying the right things or could be doing things that are harmful comes from how I behaved in the past. Instead of worrying about what may happen, all of us would be better off to focus on what's in front of us. I'm here and sharing. Human connection is an amazing thing if you just take time to really be present.

I'm not being critical of my partner or myself. Though, that is my old pattern. I'm simply trying to remind myself and those of you reading that nothing matters more, than this moment. Regret is born from realizing that fact too late. The "should haves" begin to slap the shore of your beliefs and you find yourself awash in feelings that you didn't do enough. There's that word again, ""enough." Maybe I need to try to remove that from my vocabulary with a Morning Mantra. In fact, I think saying "too late" was a bad idea as well. Truthfully, it is never "too late" when you're in the present.

Then & Now

I didn't leave my former partner because of her depression. I left to avoid mine. The shame that I was unable to pay the bills and returning to school because I couldn't hack university before was the motivation. I had failed my parents, my marriage, and everyone. I wasn't who I thought they wanted me to be. I suppose that was the question I was really asking my father at the time, "If you love my mother, will you love me if I can't be who you want me to be?" Of course, he didn't want my mother to be in pain. However, it wasn't up to him. All he could do was be present and communicate. Healing takes time, moment to moment.

I was lost in a future I thought everyone wanted. I was trapped in a past where I believed I made the wrong decisions about my education, house purchase, and letting others depend on me. I was depressed. When I observer the past, and don't get swept away in it, I can see my depression goes back much further.

Once my psychiatrist told me that the emotional parts of our brain have no sense of time. An emotion triggered by a memory can be just as powerful as the day the event actually happened. When I think of my father and all his medical complications as I write this, I feel sad despite the fact that he passed away a while ago. Wherever he is now, no matter what my beliefs, he's not hurting now. Living with my mental illness has not been a picnic for my partner. Tomorrow, may very well be another troubling day. Right now, in this moment, we have each other and I'm going to hold onto that and enjoy it. And of course, I have to continue to work on my relationship with myself.

Much <3

#MentalHealth #Depression #Relationships #Emotions

Questioning self-worth is a vibrant message in our culture today. Marketing tells us we have to go to this school, buy this phone, own that house, eat those foods, and wear trend styles or we aren't enough. So, it is easy to see how I could think that I'm not enough. I'm not putting blame on advertising, but simply illustrating one of the many reasons why it feels so natural to think I'm a terrible son, brother, friend, husband, and podcaster.

I met Taryn Arnold via Patreon Hangouts at a time when the site was just starting and Paul and I were exploring Patreon as an idea for our podcast. Pursuing those deep-seated feelings of not being enough, I was trying to drive our podcast into "bigger," and "better" things. I was after outside validation because I wasn't giving myself any. The problem with reaching for the sky was the fear of rejection. After all, I don't think highly of myself or what I do, so why would any "big" guest consider doing a podcast I was involved in? The definition of "big, bigger," and "better" in this paragraph is just about anyone and anything that I saw as above me. That is, everything.

Going after new guests was terrifying for me. There was the expectation that I had to do it to feel successful and get that outside validation from listeners and the fear of rejection. I was quite taken aback when Taryn agreed to be on our podcast. (We recorded for 2 hours and made Taryn Down Apple and Ceremonial Ace of Base which was a ton of fun.) As we discussed Patreon Taryn went to our page and became our first patron ever.

Today, I can see the whole thing as a positive experience, but at the time I assumed it was a fluke, or I got lucky. That never enough feeling was a part of my core beliefs about myself. To be honest, it's still there and I spend a great deal of time trying to correct it. My mental health is why I took a break from doing the podcast. I wanted to find myself in a space where I could enjoy doing the show for myself again. I didn't want to pursue download numbers, 'top podcast lists," and "big" guests.

Speaking of podcasts, Taryn has started on mental health. Stuck with Taryn Arnold is about getting unstuck in life. It's a personal journey for Taryn that she's sharing with listeners. The second episode is about finding those areas in life where we're struggling. My squiggly wheel above is an exercise I did with Taryn as I listened.

I'm very happy to join Taryn on this adventure. This has also put her on my growing list of potential guests for my new podcast on mental health. I've been working on this for a while as I try to fight off those familiar demons of not enough, download numbers, etc. "Fight" is the wrong word. I'm trying to recognize where those feelings come from and show compassion for myself. Anyway, I hope create a new documentary style show that will be part therapy for me and hopefully helpful for others. I've been talking about this project for over a year. In that time I have the beginnings of a forum created for a community, a network provider lined up for the show, and a swank new logo created by the talented artist of Be This.

I'm going to be putting the finishing touches on the forum in the coming weeks and offer some invites to friends before I launch the podcast. At the same time, I'll continue making Morning Mantras. Please stay tuned, my friends. Also, please check out Stuck with Taryn Arnold.

#podcast #MentalHealth #SelfWorth

I wanted some help with a project and I called on my friend German from The Modern Manhood Podcast. It was really great to bounce ideas off of him and he helped me focus on what was important. We had an enjoyable conversation over drinks and dinner and parted ways. Then, I was alone with my thoughts. The joy of the evening faded away.

I am a burden. I am pathetic. I am stupid. Obviously, I wasted German's time. He must think I'm an idiot. I imagine he's going home to tell his partner what a loser I am.

Walking home from the pub, I couldn't shake those thoughts. Despite the fact that we openly talked insecurities and mental health, my inner critic was carrying me away with anger, pain, and sadness after I left. These feelings are not based in reality, there's no evidence that German thinks any of these things.Yet, this is my perception when I look back on the evening. I am not alone, of course. We all look back at events with a cloud of apprehension or nostalgia. Dwelling in either area can be dangerous when depression is in the equation.

Introspection and Chocolate

There can't be such a thing as too much chocolate, right? Some, especially those who aren't into chocolate, may believe there is a limit. I wonder the same about examining my own thoughts and feelings. Is there such a thing as too much introspection? As someone who takes forever to make a decision, I can see the argument against examining one's self "too much." No matter how much I think about me, I still have to make the doughnuts, I have to go about my day and take care of my responsibilities. Whether German likes me as a person or not, the laundry needs to get done, food needs to be put on the table, and chocolate needs to be eaten. I believe this is stoicism, but that book is still on my reading list. Regardless of what I think, there's work to be done, so why bother being introspective?

On the flip side, chocolate is damn delicious. Some people use pumpkin pie as an excuse to eat an entire tub of whip cream. If you leave me alone with a pan of chocolate brownies, I hope you don't want the pan back because I'm liable to eat it as well. Being introspective is learning who I am. There are layers when I think about thinking. It can seem unnecessary from the surface level. The thoughts above about being a pathetic loser, for example, bring pain to me. Best to leave that alone, right? That's not going to get the housework done. Anyway... Yet, the next layer below is asking the question not of German, but of me. Why do I think I'm a loser? In my warped mind, if I ask German, he will never admit he doesn't like me. He'll want to spare my feelings, people are rarely honest, and so on. In other words, I'm going to believe what I want to believe. Time to ask why.

Instead of avoiding the pain, I have to go into it. Why do I think I'm a loser? The immediate response is, "just stop thinking this." Do I need to rehash some ancient memory to move forward? I think understanding it can take the power away from my self-critic. No matter how much money a man has, you're not going to take investment advice from him if he says he bought Bitcoin because he only invests in things that start with the letter "b." What if a teacher told 7 year old me that I was the worst student she ever had in class on Tuesday, and in the following evening during parent-teacher conferences I heard her say I was one of her favorites? That may have created some trust issues. I can't very well base my worth on what a 7 year old with one bad experience thinks. So, understanding the past is a good thing.

The Mean Streets of the Brain

The 7 year old is not alone, unfortunately. Using his lens, I've grabbed other experiences through the years to reinforce this idea of mistrust. I must be terrible because +add negative events here. It's like letting the tobacco or sugar industry study the affects of their products. "The things we make are great! Keep buying! There's no problem here."

Things are literally reinforced in the brain. The favorite phrase that I've read over and over is "neurons that fire together, wire together." When two brain cells make a connection, or wire together, they fire information through the wire. If they do this over and over, you brain builds a highway here. "Ouch! I burned myself on the stove again." The brain cells need better communication between the idea of a stove and hot, let's remove the traffic lights and put in an 8 lane superhighway here.

Now, over the years I alone have perceived that I am not enough. I feel that I am a loser. Those two brain cells, the loser label and the Chris, are affixed together with the neural pathway equivalent of the Autobahn. Through my recent groups, therapy, friends, family, and introspection, I've been trying to connect Chris to the decent and lovable brain cells. At the moment it is only a rough two-track. Actually, it feels more like a Rock Crawling course.

So, it's no surprise that my older pattern of self-disgust kicked in after chatting with my friend German. It is frustrating that I am able to recognize the pattern, but still get dragged down by it. At least I'm noticing it, right? First step and all? At times I can see this, yes. However, seeing through the fog of depression can be difficult. The psychiatrist explained something to me once about emotional pain, it has no sense of time. The part of the brain that deals in emotions is not at all connected to the part that perceives time. When you think about the loss of a loved one, it affects you even if it happened years ago. Those feelings that I'm somehow less are painful, true or not. Time to dig into another layer perhaps. Meanwhile, construction continues on reinforcing the new neural pathway between Chris and compassion.

#mentalhealth #SelfCompassion #SelfWorth #SelfJudgement

I took this picture wondering how this even happened. How did I end up with identical 8 year old laptops? Like many things in my life recently, the answer is somewhat complex and related to mental health.

First, I offered to adopt the second laptop because it was not functioning. I wanted the challenge of seeing if I could breath life back into the device. When you work at a retail store, your first job is sales not repair. So, when the original owner was told "We cannot promise that a fresh install will work, but you'll lose everything,"  I was somewhat alarmed. These things are not cheap, Mr. Apple Store "genius." Why not try? I wasn't part of this original conversation, so I have no idea if the "genius" offered to backup the data before the fresh install (which is completely possible on Macs with their Target Disk Mode). Yet, this is a 7+ year old device. I've added a new battery, more memory, and a solid-state drive to my personal laptop that is 6+ months older, and I am frequently frustrated by its sluggishness. Thus, I can understand why one would choose to buy a new laptop instead of fixing this one. Of course, it's a matter of cost which brings me to the more complex answer to "how did I end up with a second 8 year old laptop?"

One of my deepest wounds is about my worth. I place a tremendous amount of value on productivity, salary, and how others see me. It's impossible to love and approve of one's self when you are constantly comparing yourself to those around you. There's always someone smarter, braver, bigger, stronger, faster, etc. I can never measure up. I used to make this joke at the expense of my mother's parents, "If I was President, my grandparents would say, 'It's not a very well paying job. You can do better.'" When my mother was in a deep depression, she couldn't get out of bed. For me, it's always been unemployment. How can I ever live up to the expectations I've made for myself? Impossible.

Even now, as I write this, the self critic in me feels that I've been unemployed more in my life than employed. Thoughts that I'm a loser for typing this to the world are loud and frankly hurtful. The reality of those emotions flooding in had me step away from writing this post, briefly.

Being unemployed for long periods of time, and my childhood have created some unfortunate financial habits. As such, I jumped at the possibility of being gifted 7+ year old laptop. My mother helped me realize that we rarely invested money, or saved for vacations while I was growing up because of my dad's health. Dealing with all the complications of Myasthenia Gravis didn't leave us with a lot of money. Nor was there the security of believing that it was a possibility to take a trip to Hawaii in the following year. And so, we didn't look to the future. This infected me with the "I could walk out the door and get hit by a bus" virus. This bug makes me and others see money differently.

My self critic enjoys not being financially stable or employed because it gives him life and meaning. When I see a shiny new phone, laptop, or something else I cannot afford, it is fuel for shame. Therefore, in shame I jumped at the opportunity to get an identical laptop because I don't deserve a new one. I can't afford a new one, because I am not earning enough, because I'll never earn enough.

It's getting easier to see these damaging thought patterns in my life. However, it often happens after the fact, when I can take a step back and see what transpired. Then, my demon returns to tell me, "So much for getting better. You screwed up again." At this point, compassion is useful. A compassionate friend reading this may note that it's great that I can finally recognize the pattern. That's a first step. That same friend might also feel like giving me a hug. This is a role I can take, accepting myself as I am now and giving myself compassion. It's something I have been successful at, but it is not easy. I hope in time this will become a new pattern.

In the meantime, what am I doing with this second laptop, really? Do I donate it somewhere? Perhaps, I offer it back to its original owner, or sell it and give the money to her? There's silly projects I can do with another computer, but I'd rather have a little Raspberry Pi that consumes less energy. I realize this dilemma is one of privilege, but I'm grateful to have another chance at recognizing my self-worth issue.

Much <3

#selfworth #mentalhealth #acceptance #compassion