This is going to be another disorganized blog post since if I try to organize these thoughts I’ll procrastinate to a point of never writing any of them down.
I’ve been tired of my friends. Because I’ve been tired of myself. Lately some events took place that made me really embarrassed of myself. Ashamed. And the thought keeps popping up in my head: “do you really lack that much common sense to do that shit?”
Lately I was chatting with my friends, one of my friends who is a staunch careerist, very accomplished, high achieving, on top of things, and has this attitude on life that you need to take what’s yours. I had just started a new job. I was ashamed about it. I didn’t want to tell him. He asked what I’m doing now. I told him, I’m working at a random company in [town]. He said, what’s the name of the company. I told him. The conversation ended there. No follow up questions. He didn’t want to ask, because he could sense in the tone of my voice that I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about, because I felt ashamed.
Me and this friend, we used to talk about our dreams. About our plans. About our place in life and all the things we’re going to do. High dopamine people. I respected that he had a strong sense of what he wanted to do. And how he was going to do it. And he was very capable of carrying out that plan.
In high school, my dad and I would go to Panera every weekend for lunch, I would order the same chipotle chicken sandwich, and we would talk about college. About what the plan is. About how I’m doing. About what I need to do. We would scheme, in Panera.
For the past few years, my dad and I would go on walks. And I would tell him about my career plans. My ambitions.
***
Over the past year, mostly over the past half year, I watched my life unravel. My plans, on so many fronts, fell through. I ended up so far from where I hoped I would be.
One of my friends in college, when we were doing the whole interviewing thing, he was the last one of us that didn’t have a prestigious job after college. He was interviewing, but it was still going on. Everyone else had their accomplishment. Finally, he made it. They hired him. He was the last one, and he got into the club. But I was the only one that didn’t have a name brand on my resume. At the time, I didn’t care.
I’ve been rebuilding my life. Bit by bit. And I’ve been discovering, bit by bit, this feeling. A feeling of recoiling from my friends lives.
I few years ago I moved to a new city. One of my high school friends was moving there at the same time, and he wanted to room together. I wanted to live alone. I had a few friends in the city living alone. I wanted to be like them. I didn’t even bother to get a place near him. I had this image of what I wanted my life to be, and I was straight line pursuing it. I look back on that time with disgust.
This feeling, of being in a new city, utterly alone and unhappy. Chasing this feeling that things can be different. That only things will be different, if I did this. I finally had a name brand on my resume. I was finally making the same money as my friends.
After I moved, one of my friends that I moved away from, the one who just barely made the club, he told me later that since his friends were slowly moving out of his life, he told himself that he needed to make new friends. He needed a new social life, because his previous one had left him.
***
Do you know the feeling, when you’re guessing at what normal is like? Like, you have the feeling, is this what normal people do? What do normal people do? I need to do that. I need to make sure I do all the things that normal people do. All the enjoyable things they do, to enjoy their lives. I need to do that too. Because I need to feel the same amount of enjoyment and fulfillment and contentedness that they do.
This kind of confused mimesis, doing things because you think that’s what people do. Let’s go to a club because that’s what fun people do. And I need to be fun, because I’m in my 20s. Because I’m in a city. And I have money. And it’s a friday evening.
***
I was told, in middle school, in the 6th grade actually, that I needed to be the best at something. Because that’s the only way I’ll get into a top college. I need to pick something, and be the best in it.
Before that, in kindergarten, I wanted to read more books than anyone in my class. I wanted to solve the math problems faster than anyone else. I wanted to score more goals than anyone at recess.
Nature or nurture, or both. Or a mix. Something something dopamine something.
***
My friend, in the new city, the one I didn’t live with, we would meet up regularly in the city. His other friends in the city didn’t accept me. Rightfully so. They could feel how one dimensional I was. How self-centered. How self-absorbed. I left that city after eight months. Because I was only ever doing it for myself. And the city didn’t serve me anymore.
Do I really lack the common sense not to do that shit?
***
That friend, the one in the new city that I didn’t live with, the more we hung out in the new city the more I sensed a coldness from him. We had this history of friendship, we grew up together, at least through 8th grade to the end of high school, which was basically our entire adolescence. But the bonds of our shared past didn’t outweight the reality of my situation. I chose my own life. I didn’t choose him.
***
In high school, in junior year, after I burned out sophomore year, I got my shit together. I studied, hard. I had a routine. I had a bedtime. Come the weekend, I didn’t hang out with my friends. Because I needed to be in bed by a certain time. Because I needed to study. And work. And I killed it. That work alone that year got me a name brand on my resume.
***
Guilt, shame, embarassment. Feeling lost.
***
My staunch careerist friend, the one with whom I was reluctant to talk about my new job, I felt like he didn’t accept me. I felt that he viewed me as a lesser being. Because I had lost. He won. He was a tier, or a few, above me. He was better than me. So how could I be his friend? How could I associate with him?
I thought this about him, because of course that’s how I would think about me if I were in his shoes. It’s how I think about me.
***
Maybe it’s my own special challenge in life, that through the genetic lottery and the parents lottery and the environment-I-was-raised-in lottery, I had the odds stacked against me. I never unlearned this shit.
I was dating a girl, for two years, part of the unraveling of my past year, and all this stuff was connected. I was miserable. She was miserable. Of course I was. Of course she was.
Maybe I’ll end this post with a dash of hope. She was a good antidote in my life. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough of one, or maybe I needed to unlearn this stuff on my own instead of relying on someone else. I suppose, it doesn’t particularly matter.
She didn’t seem to have any of these problems. She had this refreshing genuineness to her. She liked adam sandler movies. She cared about people, especially when they were struggling. She had modest goals. She had cute decorations in her apartment. She liked this one paper store and kitchen appliances. She warmed my heart. It was a breath of fresh air, in my otherwise toxic life. She didn’t have a tiger parent. She worked at a cafe on the weekends in high school. She didn’t need to be the best at something. She won the wholesome lottery.
***
So I’ve been feeling like I need a break from some of my friends. The ones that I feel like I compete with. The ones that look at me and think that I’m a mess. That who the fuck is this guy that the events of recent would happen to him. That maybe they don’t really want to associate with a guy like that.
Recoiling. I need a reset. I need to put my head down.
***
Because what this really boils down to is *values*. When I value people more than things, or status, or achievement, or money, then none of this toxic shit even happens. And part of that value is valuing myself, instead of viewing myself through purely an achievement lens. But even phrasing it that way sounds wrong. There’s no comparing the “value”. People are infinitely more valuable. It’s even a weird thing to talk about their “value” like I can purchase it at a store. It’s the wrong word, but I don’t have a better way to describe what I’m thinking about.
Yeah I know these things. I can write about these things. But actions speak louder than words, and my actions, to this day, aren’t saying these things.
Maybe that’s why I started a blog. Because I’ve been a bit lost, a bit confused, and I know that no matter how much I get my shit together, how much I “rebuild my life”, I need to sort this shit out or nothing will really change, deep down.
But I know that getting my shit together is a prerequisite for learning how to live life better. So I’m not going to do anything drastic. I’m not going to change too much. I’m still going to do the same things I would do anyways. I’m going to take my time, and go slowly. Because there’s no other way to solve these problems. There’s no other way to change. If I can even change, I know that change will happen slowly. And at a point in my life without chaos. Because when my life is chaotic, everything around my is changing, and it doesn’t give me time to change myself.
I have a job now. And I think I need some time away from scenarios that trigger my toxicity. For now. Until I figure this shit out.