Mocha #3: Minimizing the Past

History contains the word story.

Hi story.

History translates to experience which provides framework for the “if-then”. If you touch the stove, then you will be burned. If you get a cut, then it will heal and leave a scar.

Yet history can generate fear. If someone got burned once, and that results in a permanent fear of stoves, that memory can result in a crippling fear of stoves resulting in avoidance, painful recall of the memory, and other debilitating outcomes.

When the past links to a fear, the window of life can narrow.

I sometimes wonder how much control I have to speak of the past. Do I keep it inside and pretend that it never happened? Or do I tell everyone I meet about it, like that poor woman in the film who had a nervous-breakdown?

In the end, I veer towards being a private person.

I stopped writing here for a while. For a while, I didn’t think I’d come back. But here I am, almost a year later.

Last November was a time of change- Correction, it was a shit show.

  • My “closest and dearest friend” dumped me cuz they were just too busy
  • My “mentor” became an abusive boss.

November taught me not to reach out to friends when I’m feeling down or want to just talk. November taught me that spending time supporting someone else who won’t take the time to even say hello is a waste of time. November taught me that friendships that are a one-way street are really just user-ships.

Fuck that ship.

November taught me that people with unreasonable expectations should be left behind. That when the job becomes a prison instead of a workplace, get the fuck out. November taught me that the people I was relying on and looking to for support were nothing more than an IED waiting to blow me to smithereens.

I cried like a pussy that November. I cycled between grief and rage. I experienced the depths of denial, sadness, anger, apathy, and landed in cynicism.

Remember, remember, the lessons of November…

But November wasn’t all bad:

  • I took my “fuck you” savings and left the bad work environment.
  • I moved back to my parent’s house till I got back on my feet.
  • Got my awesome dream job.
  • Learned about minimalism.

I adapted minimalism as my creed: prioritize what is important, ignore the rest.

In November, I decided to choose me. To put myself first and flip off everything else that tried to hinder me or dissuade from progressing towards a better life. I decided that no job was worth being treated like shit, that money in a paycheck wasn’t enough to buy my soul.

And I was lucky because I burned a bridge behind me only to set foot in paradise.

2018 hasn’t been that bad. I’ve moved on to better and bigger things. I can look back with a certain affection.

How small that world is now… How vapid and uninteresting. How pathetic.

How far I’ve grown.

So I shut the window on November.

It’s June. The sun is shining, I’m blasting  The Gambler by Xzibit ft Anthony Hamilton. I’ve got my life right, my mind right, my money right.

And I’m not alone.

I got quality people at my back. I listen to my instincts. I don’t ignore when I see a situation go bad. Dare I say I am in touch with my higher self? Haha, if you believe that stuff about the higher you, then yeah that’s what you could call it.

I had abandoned my sovereignty,
Abandoned the reigns to follow strange kings and queens.
Now I’ve returned to my kingdom,
Only I have dominion -and I walk beside, not behind.
I’m the knight of my own castle,
And I save myself.

Now I smile when I remember,
Those eerie dark days
Of November.

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A Slap, a Mirror, a Resolution

“Live responsibly”

This morning was a slap to the face. In serious review of the decisions leading to today, I stopped to really ponder the direction I decided to go.

Why I did I think in that moment that my decision was the right one? The justification being mere self-indulgence and complete recklessness. And sometimes, it’s not enough to know that your decisions didn’t hurt other people. Sometimes, it’s about how you hurt yourself.

Waking up this morning wasn’t a proud moment. The sour taste of regret, the cloying scent of failure permeating my thoughts as I stared in the mirror.

Is this really what I want to be doing? Why did I think it was worth it?

I don’t know if I’ve ever been disgusted by what I’ve done -mostly because I try to do the right thing. But this morning, I felt disgusting.

A shower helped.

Brushing teeth. Cleaning messes of yesterday. Eating. Trying to keep food down.

Lots of sleep.

Watching TV.

Resting and reflecting.

Being disappointed in myself…I never want to feel that again. If I can’t be proud of who I am and what I do, then what is the point? No, better to be straight-laced and boring than to look the mirror and be revolted by what I see.

It’s time to take charge and be an adult. Make better decisions. Because I’ve learned that listening to the voice that says it doesn’t matter, is dangerous. When that voice whispers to take that step in the wrong direction, I can’t listen. Life is too short to waste it doing stupid things, and making bad decisions.

This idiot is growing up.