Don't you just love when you realize you are actually doing what you hate? It's wonderful to see that you're an accidental hypocrite because now, now you have this choice to make: do you change your behavior or do you change your ideology? Word to the wise, change your behavior.
However, that's easier said than done.
Having a one-track mind isn't inherently bad. I routinely spend my time editing films. You definitely need to keep your mind focused to get the job done. It's also advised to keep yourself on track when you're driving - that's why cell phones are a bad idea when you're behind the wheel. There's a lot to be said about being focused and getting the job done as well (and as safely as you can). I suppose then, that if I am behind the wheel of my life I should get off the cell phone before I crash.
Emotionally, in the last year I've had to heal from a severe depression deep enough to be called a head-on collision. I was so blinded by the headlights of my impending life after college that I freaked out years in advance of graduating and promptly swerved into a ditch. It's been hard crawling back out and patching myself up but I did it. The only downside, however, to being completely focused on healing and being "normal" again (whatever that means) was that it also produced a one-track mind - a mind that I really hate and that sometimes other people hate as well.
See, what happens during a one-track episode is based exclusively upon focus and habit. Habit causes you to repeat things like, "this is what I'll do after college . . ." or "if I can just get this job I'll be set . . .". Basically you are only focusing on one thing that you want so badly you can't think about anything else. At first, this isn't bad. I'm sure that the builders of the Titanic wanted to create the largest passenger ship in the world. But after a while your brain just keeps putting you on repeat so that every time you have a one-track episode and you open your mouth the same things come out. And then you crash full speed into an iceberg. Eventually, your friends will end up saying what mine did to me, "You already know what I think." And then turn away.
This is the part of the story where I have to pause for a moment. See, I've known for a while that I do this. But instead of changing it within myself, the only way I battled it was to always be "on". Being "on" means that you are always having your public face on, you only show those parts of you that others find to be good and socially acceptable. But then I got comfortable here. For a while, that was okay because while I was comfortable I still hadn't opened up yet. But then I did. And what followed was a wonderful mix of inappropriate jokes and confessions that eventually led again to the one-track mind I thought I had fixed, that I thought I had paved over into a multi-lane highway that was leading me toward what I want in life. A mind that had stopped the one-track episodes and had managed to swerve the iceberg and not sink into the Atlantic.
Don't you just love when you realize you are actually doing what you hate?
The only difference between back then when I was struggling and now when I'm not struggling as much is that my friend was completely, and utterly honest with me. It was a shock but one that I needed. Because now, I'm not accidentally being a hypocrite. Now I am choosing to stop myself from saying things on repeat. Notice I used the present tense? Yeah, that's because it's not like we can just choose to be something else and then we just are. We don't operate like choosing character preferences for a video game. We decide at every moment whether or not we are going to do the best thing, the thing that we know is right even though it's probably difficult, the thing that we know will make us better even though we really don't want to do it.
This is my confession.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Trusting When Others Aren't Trustworthy
Trust is an issue I've been bothered by for a while. I suppose there are many reasons which I won't get into here but suffice it to say I've wondered and now I'm going to talk about my wonderings.
So here goes.
Trust requires honesty. Honesty requires courage. And courage is something I've been lacking in my life . . . until this summer.
What's so great about this summer you ask?
Well, I forced myself to take a job in West Virginia at a Christian summer camp as their videographer. Film is something I've been interested in for a while and I had just finished a Mass Media and Visual Communications major from my college in western New York State this past May. Coincidentally or not, I'm still not sure which, I went to college in the same county I grew up in. So, leaving for a destination set 8 hours away and with the knowledge that I would be there for a few months was devastatingly real and terrifying - but still exciting (if you can imagine that which I hope you can because it is amazing).
In other words, I wasn't trusting myself with the experience I'd gained in college to do my job.
In other words, I wasn't trusting myself with the strength I've had for as long as I can remember.
In other words, I wasn't trusting my God and the path he has laid out for me.
You see, trust requires honesty. And honesty has been in pretty short supply in the last few years. Its the reason why most of my college friendships have died - were never alive in the first place. We spent so much time pretending to be close just to give the illusions to each other and ourselves that we weren't really alone.
Honesty requires courage. Let's just say that I've been a coward for a long time. I didn't used to be but it's where I was and that's what counts. You can try to be something better or you can remain in the behaviors you hate but people want to know you . . . as you are now. Not as you were. It makes sense, they only know what they see us doing now. They can't reach into the past and figure out the good person we used to be and they can't see into the future to the good person we want to be someday. The people in my life had seen the past and had only remembered the bad things I did when I was 14. Unfortunately for me, past and present don't always match up how we'd like them to.
Honestly, and this is taking quite a lot of courage to write this, I didn't even want to be in West Virginia. And I especially didn't want to be here once I got here. I was completely thrown into a different world down here, one with dobsonflies and red, clay mud and so many fears I could barely think straight. Not only did I not want to do this job but none of my friends or family thought I was even going to do it - and I didn't even admit any of my fears to them! They just assumed I wouldn't. Because that's what I had always done. At least to them. At least for a while during the period of my life that I categorize somewhere between a category 5 hurricane and the maelstrom from "Pirates of the Caribbean 3".
So how in the heck did I end up actually going to West Virginia?
I'll tell you.
During my Sophomore year in college I read about a philosopher. I forget his name, but basically the idea of what has stuck with me is that if we want to be better people, we need to force ourselves to do what good people do until we do those things that good people do so often and so well as to forget we ever forced ourselves to do those things in the first place. To my terrified self finishing up my last semester in college I simultaneously didn't want to apply for the job and did want to apply so that I would become a better, stronger individual in the world.
So I went.
The courage came with me.
The honesty found its way into my daily life.
And trust did follow.
So far so good. But then in the last few days I've experienced some things that have caused me to stop and reflect on when I have found a way to trust others but some of these others turn out to be not so trusting in their interactions with me. Now, most people in my life don't try to make me stumble in my resolve. Most are genuinely trying to help me. Obviously, when we're children we start to learn who we can and cannot trust. I was not sheltered from the "stranger danger" talks and I started realizing around the age of 8 that my friends just tucked me away for when they needed me. However, because I didn't have honesty or courage I couldn't stop automatically trusting what they said to me.
This was the trend.
However! This summer has given me plenty of opportunities to hone my honesty and courage. Basically, this means, it sucks being an adult but sometimes you have to step up and be the bigger person. I shook. I stuttered. But afterward, I knew I had done the right thing. That satisfaction is something that fuels more courage later. Which fuels honesty. Which - yep! - fuels trust.
So in the end, the years I spent watching people hurt me was just because I didn't have courage and I wasn't honest. If this tale had a moral I would say it would be to speak up! What's the worst that could happen really? What? You stated your opinion? Good. It means people understand what's going on in that head of yours. People are going to judge you on the outside anyway. Why not give them a piece of your mind so you can walk away with the satisfaction that you decided what people know about you. It's their problem if they don't like it - but I'm pretty certain that you'll probably make some good friends if you're brutally honest with them. Because we're all looking for those relationships that will last through the crap of our lives and the only way we're going to find those people to stick it out with us is if we're brutally honest at the start of it.
Trust requires honesty. Honesty requires courage. Courage requires work. I'll let you decide if it's worth it in the end.
But I bet it is.
So here goes.
Trust requires honesty. Honesty requires courage. And courage is something I've been lacking in my life . . . until this summer.
What's so great about this summer you ask?
Well, I forced myself to take a job in West Virginia at a Christian summer camp as their videographer. Film is something I've been interested in for a while and I had just finished a Mass Media and Visual Communications major from my college in western New York State this past May. Coincidentally or not, I'm still not sure which, I went to college in the same county I grew up in. So, leaving for a destination set 8 hours away and with the knowledge that I would be there for a few months was devastatingly real and terrifying - but still exciting (if you can imagine that which I hope you can because it is amazing).
In other words, I wasn't trusting myself with the experience I'd gained in college to do my job.
In other words, I wasn't trusting myself with the strength I've had for as long as I can remember.
In other words, I wasn't trusting my God and the path he has laid out for me.
You see, trust requires honesty. And honesty has been in pretty short supply in the last few years. Its the reason why most of my college friendships have died - were never alive in the first place. We spent so much time pretending to be close just to give the illusions to each other and ourselves that we weren't really alone.
Honesty requires courage. Let's just say that I've been a coward for a long time. I didn't used to be but it's where I was and that's what counts. You can try to be something better or you can remain in the behaviors you hate but people want to know you . . . as you are now. Not as you were. It makes sense, they only know what they see us doing now. They can't reach into the past and figure out the good person we used to be and they can't see into the future to the good person we want to be someday. The people in my life had seen the past and had only remembered the bad things I did when I was 14. Unfortunately for me, past and present don't always match up how we'd like them to.
Honestly, and this is taking quite a lot of courage to write this, I didn't even want to be in West Virginia. And I especially didn't want to be here once I got here. I was completely thrown into a different world down here, one with dobsonflies and red, clay mud and so many fears I could barely think straight. Not only did I not want to do this job but none of my friends or family thought I was even going to do it - and I didn't even admit any of my fears to them! They just assumed I wouldn't. Because that's what I had always done. At least to them. At least for a while during the period of my life that I categorize somewhere between a category 5 hurricane and the maelstrom from "Pirates of the Caribbean 3".
So how in the heck did I end up actually going to West Virginia?
I'll tell you.
During my Sophomore year in college I read about a philosopher. I forget his name, but basically the idea of what has stuck with me is that if we want to be better people, we need to force ourselves to do what good people do until we do those things that good people do so often and so well as to forget we ever forced ourselves to do those things in the first place. To my terrified self finishing up my last semester in college I simultaneously didn't want to apply for the job and did want to apply so that I would become a better, stronger individual in the world.
So I went.
The courage came with me.
The honesty found its way into my daily life.
And trust did follow.
So far so good. But then in the last few days I've experienced some things that have caused me to stop and reflect on when I have found a way to trust others but some of these others turn out to be not so trusting in their interactions with me. Now, most people in my life don't try to make me stumble in my resolve. Most are genuinely trying to help me. Obviously, when we're children we start to learn who we can and cannot trust. I was not sheltered from the "stranger danger" talks and I started realizing around the age of 8 that my friends just tucked me away for when they needed me. However, because I didn't have honesty or courage I couldn't stop automatically trusting what they said to me.
This was the trend.
However! This summer has given me plenty of opportunities to hone my honesty and courage. Basically, this means, it sucks being an adult but sometimes you have to step up and be the bigger person. I shook. I stuttered. But afterward, I knew I had done the right thing. That satisfaction is something that fuels more courage later. Which fuels honesty. Which - yep! - fuels trust.
So in the end, the years I spent watching people hurt me was just because I didn't have courage and I wasn't honest. If this tale had a moral I would say it would be to speak up! What's the worst that could happen really? What? You stated your opinion? Good. It means people understand what's going on in that head of yours. People are going to judge you on the outside anyway. Why not give them a piece of your mind so you can walk away with the satisfaction that you decided what people know about you. It's their problem if they don't like it - but I'm pretty certain that you'll probably make some good friends if you're brutally honest with them. Because we're all looking for those relationships that will last through the crap of our lives and the only way we're going to find those people to stick it out with us is if we're brutally honest at the start of it.
Trust requires honesty. Honesty requires courage. Courage requires work. I'll let you decide if it's worth it in the end.
But I bet it is.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Endings and Beginnings
Lately I've been thinking a lot about endings and beginnings. I just graduated college in May and spent the last few months at a summer camp in West Virginia as a videographer so my life has taken quite a turn in regard to degrees and living arrangements. Other circumstances have forced me to pause and think hard about what I want to do from here and who I want to share in my experiences down the road.
So, here I am at the daunting brink of ending summer and beginning the decisions that will inevitably lead me to the next chapter which will, I suppose, bring me to the rest of my life.
What now?
Well, I start with what I know: I'm 24. I've still got time to decide and change my mind as many times as I want to and still remain within acceptable social limits for flip-flopping through life decisions. So far so good. What else? I don't have much tying me down back home. I could literally go anywhere from here. So where do I go?
That's the question.
See, I'm not that kind of person that flippantly makes decisions. I like to remain within the limits of a small margin for error. "Drastic" generally isn't in my vocabulary. I think some of you will understand that. But "safe" and "small" are not in my list of adjectives anymore. Everything I've learned about myself this summer has proved to me that the bigger I aim for the more I will receive.
Endings and beginnings. I suppose you might be asking why I named this post that instead of beginnings and endings. It could just be because it was more artful to switch the phrase so it wouldn't sound as cliche. Or it could be because I've read a lot about the Celts and how they would celebrate funerals because they meant that someone was being born in the Otherworld. Or it could merely be because while things are winding down and everything around me seems to be ending while I'm not ready yet and to end the title with "beginnings" seems more positive and less final.
Finality. There's a word that seems to stick around.
Finality and patience. To let things be and let things come when they will.
I guess that's life.
Because life is all about guessing.
And hoping.
And loving.
And hurting.
And somehow it all seems worth it in the end.
We live a vicious cycle. But the cycle wouldn't have it any other way. And neither would I.
So, here I am at the daunting brink of ending summer and beginning the decisions that will inevitably lead me to the next chapter which will, I suppose, bring me to the rest of my life.
What now?
Well, I start with what I know: I'm 24. I've still got time to decide and change my mind as many times as I want to and still remain within acceptable social limits for flip-flopping through life decisions. So far so good. What else? I don't have much tying me down back home. I could literally go anywhere from here. So where do I go?
That's the question.
See, I'm not that kind of person that flippantly makes decisions. I like to remain within the limits of a small margin for error. "Drastic" generally isn't in my vocabulary. I think some of you will understand that. But "safe" and "small" are not in my list of adjectives anymore. Everything I've learned about myself this summer has proved to me that the bigger I aim for the more I will receive.
Endings and beginnings. I suppose you might be asking why I named this post that instead of beginnings and endings. It could just be because it was more artful to switch the phrase so it wouldn't sound as cliche. Or it could be because I've read a lot about the Celts and how they would celebrate funerals because they meant that someone was being born in the Otherworld. Or it could merely be because while things are winding down and everything around me seems to be ending while I'm not ready yet and to end the title with "beginnings" seems more positive and less final.
Finality. There's a word that seems to stick around.
Finality and patience. To let things be and let things come when they will.
I guess that's life.
Because life is all about guessing.
And hoping.
And loving.
And hurting.
And somehow it all seems worth it in the end.
We live a vicious cycle. But the cycle wouldn't have it any other way. And neither would I.
It Can All Change Like That
Summer is almost gone.
I've graduated.
I've lived in a new state.
There are so many new things I've experienced in the mere two months I've been at camp.
Like friendship.
And love.
And loved ones I'm supposed to leave and let go.
We have our jobs to do and here I am trying to let everyone do them but I'm afraid to release my grip.
What if I never see them again?
What if I never see this place again?
What if I can't make it through another lonely winter?
What if I can't do this?
I can't read ahead. Lesson #1 learned.
Lesson #2: faith is worth more than sight. Believe and breathe out.
But lesson #3 is the one I fear more than all the others: sometimes things end and you must remain here.
Because lesson #3 is the one where I hug compatriots goodbye and watch the summer fade into the rear window. It's the part of the book where I'll run after the one person in the world that I didn't know I would be aching for so much that I wouldn't want to try making myself look up at the world anymore when I walk. This is when I go back, silently feeling and thinking and perhaps finding a splinter of understanding in someone back home but maybe that splinter will become a spear in my own heart when it returns to me void.
But the summer's not over yet. Winter has not come and the leaves have not yet begun to bleed and fall. And my friends are never truly gone even if I can't see them. We live in each others' memories now. We go with them wherever they will go. We lived lives that meant something to someone else. Besides, what if this has all been prologue and now comes the characters' victories? Even if it comes in bitterness the people have already won. And isn't that the point of living?
So don't read ahead, dear reader and dear writer. You'll spoil the reading if you try to guess the ending.
I've graduated.
I've lived in a new state.
There are so many new things I've experienced in the mere two months I've been at camp.
Like friendship.
And love.
And loved ones I'm supposed to leave and let go.
We have our jobs to do and here I am trying to let everyone do them but I'm afraid to release my grip.
What if I never see them again?
What if I never see this place again?
What if I can't make it through another lonely winter?
What if I can't do this?
I can't read ahead. Lesson #1 learned.
Lesson #2: faith is worth more than sight. Believe and breathe out.
But lesson #3 is the one I fear more than all the others: sometimes things end and you must remain here.
Because lesson #3 is the one where I hug compatriots goodbye and watch the summer fade into the rear window. It's the part of the book where I'll run after the one person in the world that I didn't know I would be aching for so much that I wouldn't want to try making myself look up at the world anymore when I walk. This is when I go back, silently feeling and thinking and perhaps finding a splinter of understanding in someone back home but maybe that splinter will become a spear in my own heart when it returns to me void.
But the summer's not over yet. Winter has not come and the leaves have not yet begun to bleed and fall. And my friends are never truly gone even if I can't see them. We live in each others' memories now. We go with them wherever they will go. We lived lives that meant something to someone else. Besides, what if this has all been prologue and now comes the characters' victories? Even if it comes in bitterness the people have already won. And isn't that the point of living?
So don't read ahead, dear reader and dear writer. You'll spoil the reading if you try to guess the ending.
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