State of the Fur II
What’s the state of the fur?
My life, as professed by this blog, is beautiful. When I started this blog it was out of gratitude for having what I considered at the time, not so bad of a life. Of course, according to my nurse practitioner I was a little high on Lorazepam, but that’s okay.
The thing is, I think I forgot that I have a beautiful life.
I’ve developed very bad habits. I over-sleep, and I don’t accomplish very much outside of when I’m forced to focus inside a class. I’ve been trying so hard to be creative, I think I forgot how to have a good life. One of the worst habits is that I no longer let my brain rest, I’m always pushing it all the time thinking, “Why can’t I be as creative as I used to be?” I never meditate on anything… and what I call meditating is really just me ending up asleep.
I project out these goals. Like, “I wish I could have enough money to do whatever I want.” Well, that’s great. But what is that? Well, you know, whatever. Okay, so how much money do you need? A lot I suppose. For what? To do things!
If I approached you and said, “Give me money to do things!” would you even consider giving me money? Why, when I have such a vague goal, when I have such an absolutely touch and go relationship with the abundance of the universe, do I expect that I’ll be taken seriously when it comes to increasing my physical wealth?
I had a bit of an eye opening exchange with Captain the other day. I was describing to her the things I came up with when I was young and un-medicated. I’ve written a few of them here before, if you remember: Who would want to share video online? but, I talked to her about a few other things I had thought up or were just on the edge of. Of course, my ideas were a little different than what eventually was invented.
She said that you should just give me a million dollars, take me off my medication, and see what happens. That I should do with the money whatever sparks my interests. She remarked, “So you might be a raccoon, but at the same time, you might go invent the next YouTube.” Really, the more I thought about it, and the more I reflected on my relationship with the universe, it was a sobering thought.
I’m not going to stop taking medication, that would be crazy! But, I realized, and this is something I’ve been thinking about for the past several weeks, that I’m not Asher anymore. Maus has actually agreed with me when I’ve said, “It feels like I’ve lost something since when I was twenty-three.” This was after he finally decided that it wasn’t all just nostalgia goggles. But what is that? What is missing, where did it go?
When I was twenty-three I was a hot mess. I was friends with Nathan Bruce Messer (the con man I’ve written about that bilked me out of a lot of money through psychological vampirism), and that pretty much invaded my entire life. However, looking back on it I noticed something. I may have been a hot mess, and I may not have fully accomplished much of anything (as I was kind of a crazy person, and hospitalizations kept getting in the way), but I had the energy. There were a few things I accomplished in my personal life, but largely, there was much unfulfilled dreaming.
Nathan knew, before I had any idea, how to turn my held back, taken for granted, elevated vibrations in the universe and use them to his advantage. That’s what he meant, or at least as far as I interpreted, when he said that he wished he could be like me and Maus. He said he had a problem, and I said, “I know.”
The reason I say this is because we did things that started out good, attracting positive stuff to us, but we kind of fucked it up in the end because, well, Nathan. For example, we started our own technology consulting business called WolFox Industries. When we went online and started to find clients, we came across this one guy who wanted to pay us just about $2500 for some programming conversions on one of his SEO sites. We of course, took the job, and the up-front half of the money, and proceeded to buy a surround sound system, a PS3 (they just came out), a huge projector (our TV became multiple feet diagonally across our wall), and who knows what else (memory’s a bit skewed as I was manic). Nathan knew how to cast out my naturally high energy, used the law of attraction (and possibly whatever cons he could muster himself), and get us cool stuff.
Unfortunately, I ended up not fulfilling the job, and having to pay the guy back… and also with debt on my Best Buy credit account that had to be paid off. So, it didn’t really work.
That was the beginning of the end.
I honestly think that since that moment, my mind has gone downhill.
It plateau-d a bit along the way, but I think that was it. That change of energy, that complete twisting of my psyche and vibrations, spelled the course of the next ten years.
It started when I was suicidal and wanted to be someone else so bad I got hospitalized for it. I wanted to be this imaginary thing that didn’t exist. I wanted it so bad the psychiatrist at the hospital gave up on me.
I think the physical was what went first. ‘Cause then I put myself into a scary ass coma, and then…
Then I got rid of Nathan, and things were good for a while.
My experience with the psychic vampire known as Nathan Bruce Messer really hurt me. It hurt me more than I let on when I kicked him out of my life. And it was then that I believe I started to convince myself that I was nothing, that I was destined to be crap, that something was wrong with me and I couldn’t do anything right, that I was a broken person. How could I be anything when I was so badly used, when I was so badly played like an idiot, when I was so badly manipulated against my own friends?
If I were to catalog all the awful things I ended up telling myself over and over and over for the next ten years, this blog post would be hundreds of pages long. The gist is, I let that one moment subconsciously alter all the good I had inside me and after a long time, all the logical outcomes came out of it.
I was talking to Mary, my nurse practitioner, yesterday and she said that it was good that I had the ‘feels’ back. She said, not too much, not super drama llama, just some feelings. She said she thought I was afraid to feel things. Well, yes and no, I think I might be afraid to feel ‘bad’ things, despite my acceptance of sadness. I’m afraid to feel self-hatred.
But something else she said struck me as well. She said that I may have had to just take a breather from normal feelings for a while. That I needed to have my anti-depressant stunt and blunt my emotions for a while so that, for he majority of the time, I didn’t feel anything. I needed a break from feelings.
And now they’re back. They’re not as powerful as they have been in the past, but I think I can work on that. Honestly? It’s wonderful.
My therapist, Elizabeth, and I discussed feelings one time. She said that she felt that some people could ‘control’ their feelings, and really some people can’t. She proposed I was one of those people who fell very strongly in the ‘can’t’ category. And, at the time, it was true.
And it still is true, I can’t ‘control’ how I feel, I just feel. Taking a break from my feelings and then being very slowly introduced back to them, kind of like a stroke victim, I’ve realized that some of my feelings are dysfunctional, they’re borderline.
And that’s okay.
The thing I’d like to say I’ve learned, when it was finally pointed out to me in a book I’ve been reading, is that self-hatred to a degree, much like happiness, is a choice. I can’t tell you how many ideas I’ve stopped working on because I say, “Oh, nobody will care. Nobody will play that game. Nobody will find that interesting. I’m just stupid.” I choose to listen to these things, and I choose to let them stop me in my quest for higher vibrations.
In the past two years, I never sat back for a second and thought, “What if I didn’t listen to those things?” This last week I’ve sat back and thought, “What if I didn’t listen to those things?”
To bring everything back full circle here, I’ve realized what I’ve lost is the determination and beyond eccentricity that is Asher. There once was an Asher who was convinced that someday he’d find the right genetic code to become a real life furry. At one time, founding a new political party (The Nomocratic Party), taking over a small country, obliterating the vatican, and establishing a central world command base on the moon… all while marching under a rainbow swastika… seemed like a really good idea! (and let’s be honest, that would be pretty awesome). There was an Asher who, never even knowing there was such a thing as conlanging, came up with a language of his own. Though it’s never been put down, I still did it because, well, it was just something I did. There was an Asher that secretly (to his parents) wore a tail to school every day, even during gym class. There was an Asher that taught himself how to program the mother-fucking computer by himself when he was in second grade. There was an Asher who founded a semi-personality cult in high school without any ‘adult’ assistance because that’s what an Asher does. I used to dream about being an adult when I was a kid, so that I could do all the things I dreamed about and be taken, hopefully, seriously.
Now that I’m an adult… what the fuck am I doing?
I’m putting myself down, I’m hating myself so severely I cry and try to stab my leg, I’m taking for granted the fact that nothing comes to me without stopping and thinking that it’s maybe because I’m not asking for anything. I’m floating in a void of self-pity, self-hatred, self-loathing, and thinking my life is cursed because of who I am.
I finally have sat back these last couple days and said, “Why?”
Honestly, why do I care about the negative things I think about myself? Why does anyone care about the negative and never-proven-true things they think about themselves? I can never make a game that big. Say’s who? Well, says me. Okay, why? What’s the point? The only person telling me I can’t do anything is… well… me.
My mother isn’t standing there telling me I’m a failure, Maus isn’t sitting next to me telling me all of the things I can’t do. I don’t go out into the world and have people on the street tell me that I can’t do things because they can obviously tell just by perceiving who I am.
The only person who’s telling me I can’t do anything… is me.
That’s a powerful thought.