Where's your head at?

It's been over four years since I last felt the need to put finger to keyboard to express myself. Back then, I felt I needed to validate why I was the way I was. I feel that time has come again.

After my recent health diagnosis, I've had to make substantial changes to my life, the largest of which is essentially ridding myself of my long time friend, alcohol.

A result of that has been an increase in my anxiety which manifests itself in many ways. Bianca and I have been in social situations of late where those present will ask Bianca if everything is ok with me, or that I'm being very quiet - am I alright?

No, I'm not.

These same people are the very ones who only saw me during the height of my alcoholic induced confidence, and would say (generally) how fun I was, or that I was in good form. Those days of good form are gone, for now, and maybe permanently.

What I want you to understand is that I don't choose to be this way. I've been to numerous psychiatrists over the years, had different medications, tried different ways of dealing with my insecurities, and nothing worked like a few beers under my belt to take the edge off. So now, here I am, this is me, my flaws and insecurities laid bare for you all to see. I can't mask them anymore.

I don't like who I am when I'm not drinking, I come off as rude and disengaged, and that probably isn't far from the truth. I don't have the confidence to communicate with people. It doesn't matter if it is someone I've known for years, even Bianca's friends who I have known for nearly 15 years I get anxious around.

So why's it happen, and what happens? If you haven't experienced anxiety you don't get it. It's very easy for others to express sympathy for someone else who is/has cancer, for someone who is blind, because it is physically visible. Mental illness however, you don't have any (generally) visible signs. You can't explain what's going on in your head. And when you do attempt to, people don't get it. I've been told "I just don't get it." And with that, comes less sympathy.

Last weekend we went to Chadstone, as I've lost a fair bit of weight, I wasn't comfortable in the clothes I was wearing, they weren't sitting right, they were too baggy and I looked ridiculous. When we got there, I found people kept looking at me. I was sure they were looking at me. I'd get eye contact then a smile, then they'd whisper to their friend who'd smile as well. Were they laughing at me? They were, I was sure of it. Everywhere I looked people were judging my appearance, I felt like I was back in the school yard being laughed at for dropping a catch in cricket, I was the centre of attention that I so desperately didn't want to be. I felt I looked ridiculous in my clothing, so everyone else must have been seeing the same thing. I felt overwhelmed, I felt like the air was becoming heavy and hard to breathe. I needed to get out of there, I needed to get home, away from their judgmental stares and laughter.

It's no different to being in a social situation. Everyone experiences some kind of feeling towards a social situation, maybe it is the host worrying about what they've cooked for their guests, or a parent worrying that their child will misbehave. I had a social situation recently where I knew people would notice my weight loss and ask why I wasn't drinking. Questions I didn't want to answer, questions that drew attention to me. So I spent the weeks before hand running through scenarios in my mind, working my self up to a state where I felt physically ill on the car trip in. My stomach was in knots, similar to the butterflies you get when you first fall in love (there's something relatable to sympathise with). Then it happens...

"Can I get you a beer?"

"No I'm good"

"Oh, you're not drinking?"

"No, not at the moment"

Then my mind ticks over, when will they ask why I'm not drinking? Are they trying to work out why? What will happen when they realise I'm a bore and can't communicate without alcohol?

What I find most troublesome is having to have Bianca cover for me because I'm not in a stable enough head place to deal with it. Whether that means I don't want to go to some social gathering and she has to lie and say I'm not well, or that I'm working. Or whether at the social event itself, I'm being reclusive and aloof due to the gnawing self doubt and confidence lacking from my very core, and Bianca is asked why I'm being quiet - only to respond I'm not feeling well.

She shouldn't have to cover for me, nor should I feel inferior or guilty of my over powering anxiety. I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask to have these head problems.


Quite often I'll accept an invite to a social event, because 6 weeks before the event proper, it seems like a good idea. Then as the date gets closer...

Will I get there in time?
Will I find a park?
Will there be something on the menu I can eat?
Will the people who I'm going with think I'm a burden?
Will my social ineptness make people judge me?
Will I come off as awkward?

The closer it gets to the date, the more I think of excuses to get out of it, and generally speaking, I get out of it. I'll work myself up mentally into such a state that everything I think that can go wrong, I envision going wrong.

It even gets so bad that if there's a birthday celebration at work, being in a room with 20 people, all talking and laughing, it becomes too much. I'll find a reason to excuse myself, the phone will ring, I'll need a bathroom break. It is literally suffocating.

Some people can't understand the sudden spikes in my moods, like a roller coaster I move from high points to low points in the blink of an eye, no matter how inconsequential the comment or act may seem, it can be enough to put me in a state of anxiety that has me withdrawing behind my walls for a time, a long time.

I am frustrating, I am infuriating, I am agonising, and I am exhausting. My experiences and struggles are part of me, for better or worse. I have friends and family who don't understand, think it is something I can just snap out of. I have friends and family who want to understand, but can't. And I have a few who do get it.

I'm sorry to all those I've let down, pushed away and lost over the years, because I am complex, and I don't want to have to hide who I am anymore. I want to be able to say, "you know what, I'm having a bad day and I just can't make it, I'm sorry" not have to make up an excuse.

Where's my head at? I don't know, and I'm not sure I will, but I want to thank the special few, friends old and new, who understand, or who are trying to understand.

Ultimately if you read this and still don't understand, then just click the unfriend button, because I am who I am. I love my family and friends, I care about them, I'm loyal to them and I respect them. I only hope that you still see me the same, and get it when I'm quiet, or don't make an event.

Alcohol and Friendships - A plague on both your houses

Collins English Dictionary defines a friend as “a person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection and loyalty”

Regarded with liking... and loyalty.

Since departing the world’s most disreputable employer, it has become more apparent with each passing day that those whom I once thought of as friends, were clearly not.

I don’t claim to be the most likable individual, in fact I would go so far to say that my eccentricities and penchant for telling things how they are, have gone a long way to minimising my friendships throughout school, university, work and social situations in general.

Where did it all start?

I can’t put a clear time or date on it, I used to have a strong group of friends during my time at school. Through Years 10, 11 and the early part of 12, I was one of those students who didn’t mingle with one particular group, but had friendships with computer geeks, the footy players and any groupings that fell in between. I had a group of maybe 5 or 6 people who I thought of as close friends. We’d hang out, stay over and do all those mate things you did (this is before mobile phones remember).

I was one of the intellectual students, I would happily let the “footy guys” copy my exams, or I’d do homework for them. This was reciprocated with invites to their 18^th birthdays. What goes around comes around.

It was around Term 3 of 1997 that I noticed things beginning to change. Most of the guys had part time jobs, and started having money to spend; I didn’t. My close friends started to get fake Ids to get into pubs, and I didn’t because I really didn’t want to, and even if I did wasn’t able to support this venture financially. I noticed my friends were starting to have their own personal jokes going on, the kind where they all laugh and I laughed along only because it would have been awkward not to. Constant chants of “Smittttty” followed by laughter, even now I struggle to ascertain what this was all about.

We had an end of year dinner at school, I asked to sit on a table with two of my “friends” and was reneged so I organised a table with two other associates. When my friends table fell through, they came calling to me to get involved and sit with them. So I did. I can still remember how I was excluded from conversation on the table, and any idle banter I made was brushed aside. I recall my parents telling me that “I wasn’t trying” (by this stage I had filled them in on my social exclusion at school.

The night was coming to an end, and the boys were heading down to the local pub. Fake Id less, there was no point me attending. My parents asked those of another boy if I could tag along. I didn’t want to tag along, they didn’t want me tagging along. The feeling was mutual.

I went.

As we got to the door and found security checking ids, my friends got through, one even bothered saying “seeya” as he walked through that hallowed entrance to what I can only assume was a night of hedonistic debauchery. I rang dad who was less than pleased to come and pick me up.

The final day of exams came and went for me, and I remember thinking half way through the chemistry assessment that I really had no idea about any of it. As I left the building for the last time, my Head of Year yelled out to me, wishing me luck and telling me “I hope you have a good afternoon at x’s breakup party”. X was, until that point, someone who I thought of as my best friend. We met in kindergarten together, and went through our entire 13 year education at school as well. My best friend hadn’t even invited me to the end of year breakup.

Fast forward a couple of months and I’m at university. I have a strange case of déjà vu as I find myself doing all the work in group assignments, but am reciprocated with being the designated driver to take these same “friends” to the pub.

I also found myself gainfully employed and earning an income. It was always a rewarding thought to have thinking that if I worked for two hours, I could buy a CD.

A similar situation of being taken advantage of at work begun to eventuate also. From covering people’s shifts, to working back later than I should have been, to covering the horror roster times of Friday and Saturday night, to once again driving everyone everywhere.

I also got invited to my best friend from school’s 21^st birthday, although I must suspect either my or his parents drove the whole thing. I didn’t want to go, mainly because I hadn’t spoken to anyone from school since that fateful day, but once again I was forced to go. I stood there amongst drunken associates, who either ignored me or attempted idle banter. Some of them were more interested in how my dad was faring than I was. I awkwardly chuckled along with others during the 21^st speech that regaled stories from his earlier years that I knew of, but more of ones from the past 3 that I didn’t. I snuck out the front door moments later, no one wanted me there, I could feel it.

Why was this happening?

I started skipping class at uni, going to classes only when a prerequisite of passing was deemed by your attendance. I even concocted a story about a temp enrolling me in the wrong classes so I could do my final semester by distance education and avoid contact with these “friends”.

I finished my time at the video store and moved on, losing contact with those I had established relationships over five years. From paranoid females claiming I was making stories up about kissing them then just ignoring me, from people who only contacted me when they wanted something (ie would never reply to my “how are you” texts or emails but as soon as their parents needed advice about a video store, contacted me). To someone who I worked with nearly every day, whom we confided in with one another, shared our problems and so on, who left and said email me and we’ll keep in contacting.

I emailed, I never got a reply.

Yes, I understand people change and you lose contact, but it always seems to be everyone changing away from me.

It was around this time that I got fired and sued from the next port of call on my employment journey. It was also around this time, that I found another friend in my journey, alcohol.

Alcohol must have been the reason then that I didn’t fit in; that I was excluded; that I was taken advantage of right?

I had never known stress like I did with my new job. 3 months out of work, starting back in an unfamiliar environment of 120+ faces wasn’t the ideal place to begin, but all the graduate positions wanted experience, and all the “proper” jobs wanted more. So I started in a glorified call centre, a member of a 14 strong team that was more employees than the entirety of my first role. Alcohol became a release from the daily stress and pressure of the role, a way to escape reality and disappear to my own private Valhalla.

Over 7 years at this despicable environment, I made friends and I lost friends. I made and lost friends sober, and I made and lost friends drunk.

I burnt many a bridge with an inappropriate drunken text message, both with family friends and these new work colleagues. But as my time with the organisation came to an end, and since, I have lost many more whilst sober.

Highlights include:

“My boyfriend won’t let me have any other male friends, so I can only talk to you when he’s not around”

“I really want to keep in contact, email me what’s been going on”. So I did, followed by “Thanks for your email, I’ll get back to you tomorrow”. After two weeks of send a subtle reminder text every third day saying, hey, are you going to write back, I’m still yet to hear back. Don’t worry, I got the obligatory “I’ve been too busy, I forgot” responses. Haven’t heard from her since.

“I can’t give you the friendship you want”. This is after not hearing from someone for three weeks, getting a “How are you?”, writing back then not getting a reply for three days, following up with a did you get a reply, followed by the above.

I heard a story about you so I’ve decided to not just un-friend you, but block you on facebook too, because that’s how good our friendship was, that I believe what my current, your old, employer says about you.

Me initiating contact with someone, thinking it can’t always be my fault can it. Getting a massive reply, followed by a “how are you”. Writing back thinking they may hold some shred of compassion or care for our relationship and getting nothing. NOTHING.

I don’t understand; I really don’t.

What compounds this issue is that I have a inherit fear of social situations. I can’t communicate with people that I don’t trust or know well without having alcohol to give me a false sense of confidence. It’s the same with group situations. I can’t do it. I feel like I’m being judged by everyone, looked at by everyone, analysed by everyone. That everyone is thinking poorly of me, that no one can tolerate me, that my very presence in their company is an offence.

Bianca knows this only too well, our marriage has been had many rough patches brought on by my social ineptness. I can’t help it, it’s my Achilles heel. It’s a mental illness that I deal with by being intoxicated. Just as some women won’t go out in public with make-up, I won’t go to social events without a couple of beers under my belt. I’m insecure about who I am, just as the woman is who wears make up. It’s the same; but not treated the same.

Even now I sometimes struggle in group situations, or small gatherings of her family or her friends because I immediately doubt myself, I doubt my ability to converse, to recite humorous anecdotes, to regale with tales of yore. I immediately think “they hate me.”

There was a function a couple of weeks ago, someone I never met came up to me (which I’m not a fan of to begin with). It’s almost like a deer caught in the inevitable headlights of the forthcoming slaughter that is my lack of sober social skill.

“Hi I’m x, how are you”

“Hi, I’m Jared, nice to meet you”.

Silence

“So, what do you do for work”

I explain.

“What about you?”

He explains.

Silence.

I grab this opportunity to pretend my phone is vibrating and excuse myself.

Is that rude? I was polite and courteous, I don’t know him, I don’t want to know him, the silence is a much his fault as mine surely.

Alcohol makes me not care, I can freely talk about what ever to whomever, share laughs, share tales; it infuses me with a false confidence. False confidence I’ll gladly take to make any social gatherings I partake in tolerable for those involved.

All these moments have gone into making me who I am, the “I can’t give you the friendship you want” only happened yesterday. 2 months ago, this same person wanted to catch up for lunch.

How can I be equally unliked both sober and drunk? H

How can I lose friends with a frequency more alarming than socks in a washing machine?

And don’t get me wrong, I haven’t lost them in the sense that I misplaced my car keys, I’ve lost them in the sense that they are a soul I will never speak to again. Granted, this most recent one was my decision, largely because I don’t believe a friendship is a one way street that is traversed by the rules of one party only, not a mutual respect. I won’t be told I can only be a friend when it is on my terms, or be there once every so often to text. I don’t want to have to think every time I write a text to someone “when was the last time I did this, is three weeks too soon or too long ago, how many words should I write, what time of day should I write it” That isn’t fair, I’m sorry it isn’t.

I’m already damaged enough socially, that to have a “sometimes friend” isn’t something I could handle.

What was the point of this you ask?

There isn’t, there’s no point to it at all. I’d just like to be recognised and treated with the same liking and loyalty I have extended to so many over the years and not have it thrown back in my face. I’ve listened to complaints, put up with drunk texts and calls, marital problems, money problems, all sorts of issues from so many, that if me sending a drunk text ends a friendship, then it wasn’t one to begin with.

Someone explain to me, explain to me why I am inherently so unlikeable and continually de-friended  and avoided like the plague. Then someone understand why I am how I am, why I act like I do, and ask yourself if you had been in my shoes, what would you have done differently. How could you have still been friends with those people from The Peninsula School, from Monash University, from Blockbuster, from Corinthian Doors.

Would the alcoholic confidence that makes you likeable at 2pm in the afternoon be the same that makes you unlikeable at 2am the following morning?

Would the sobriety that makes you likeable at 2am in the morning make you less so as 2pm in the afternoon?

I am who I am, take me with my flaws or leave me alone. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, I have the courage to show my flaws and not hide them. All I want is some loyalty, and friendship.

Employment Is Paid Slavery

Employment Is Paid Slavery

slavery [ˈsleɪvərɪ]

n

1.     (Law) the state or condition of being a slave; a civil relationship whereby one person has absolute power over another and controls his life, liberty, and fortune.

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003

In my recent exposure to being a member of the unemployed, I’ve had a lot of time to think and analyse employment as a component of society. Employment is not a choice, it is a necessity to survive. An income must be derived in order to meet the basic needs of human life. These needs are water, food, shelter, and, depending upon climate, clothing. Beyond that, everything else is a luxury. http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_are_the_basic_necessities_for_the_survival_of_the_human_civilisation#ixzz1NEzpe3sk

In order to obtain these core components of human life, goods or services must be rendered and remuneration supplied. This generally means being employed in order to receive a stable income to sate these needs.

Why then, are so many of us forced to work in jobs or roles we have no satisfaction in? For the simple need to source financial assets in order to support our basic life requirements, and our extended life desires, wants and needs.

Using the definition of slavery above, life has power over us all. To sustain our lives and lifestyles, we need to work.

Making a brutally honest observation, look at life in Ethiopia, and similar African countries. Hundreds upon thousands lose their lives in tragic and painful manners due to starvation. Life has the power. Without money to buy food and water, this is the result. This is the consequence of ignoring human needs at their most primal level. Without demeaning the obvious tragedy that those less fortunate than us are forced to deal with, let’s relate slavery to the middle class Australian.

Most of us have houses, mobile phones, televisions, cars, fridges and so on. To have these objects, we need to pay for them. To pay for them, we need an income. The more prestigious and superior your assets and articles, the more you must pay to enjoy them. It is, to a degree, hedonistic activity. Deriving pleasure from enjoying these articles that in reality add no substantial value to our daily life.

By writing this down on my laptop, using electricity to power it, I’m indulging in an activity that is hedonistic to me. The more of these activities I have, the more I must support them with money. If my laptop were to be taken away, I would survive. If my access to water and food were taken away, I wouldn’t.

Why then, should we support these devices by working in an unfulfilling and unrewarding job? What do you derive pleasure from?

From working a 60 hour week at the office, 70 including travel, so you can be paid $80,000 a year, have the big house, the car, the pool.

Or do you derive pleasure from working 40 hours a week where you’re paid $50,000 a year but you can spend more time at home to enjoy those few assets you can afford on your reduced salary?

We are all slaves to life. And our employment dictates the degree to which we are trapped in this cycle of pleasure and pain. We could all get by working for reduced salaries, living in smaller houses, but would it make you happy?

All you need is food, water and shelter , right?

Who Is The Real Terrorist?

Seeing the news break over the death of Osama I was left feeling somewhat empty. The man who engineered the September 11 Twin Towers atrocity has finally seen his life come to an end after being relentlessly hounded for ten years.

After seeing images of jubilant Americans celebrating the death of Osama, I couldn’t help but draw correlations to those of the Afghanistan and Middle Eastern people celebrating the loss of American life.

It is ok for the Western media and its people to celebrate the death of this terrorist who has taken countless innocent lives, yet it is not ok for those in the Middle East to celebrate the death of those associated with the American bureaucracy?

Don’t get me wrong, not for one moment do I think that Osama and his follower’s acts of terrorism are anything less than despicable forms of cowardice and violence against those who can’t defend themselves.

Having said that, how are America and her allies actions any different when they drop countless tonnes of ordinance from their fighter jets that result in civilian casualties?

That’s ok, that can be brushed off as collateral damage can’t it? Swept under the rug away from the Western world that is so preoccupied in the death and chaos caused by Osama that the “collateral damage” is almost acceptable.

Between 2001-2003, over 3,100 Afghanistan civilians were killed as a direct result of NATO bombing runs.  2,752 died in the attacks on the WTC.

Once again, I am not condoning Osama’s actions, yet we need to take off the blinkers and understand from the perspective of the Middle Eastern nations why there is so much hate and contempt for us Western countries.

No one can win this war on terror.

Not so long as America and her puppets continue to meddle in the affairs of these nations.

Not so long as there are evil men and women who wish to do harm to the weak and vulnerable.

The celebrations the American’s engaged in following Osama’s death were akin to those of the Afghan’s when American troops are killed. Think of the contempt you feel for the Afghani’s as they rejoice in the death of American soldiers. The way they gloat and yell and jeer for the end of American life. Now think how the American’s carried on, and how these images were broadcast world-wide. Now think what the terrorists are feeling having seen such delight in the faces of those they consider their enemy.

No one is right here.

There is not one condonable action in the 10 year window that this “war on terror” has spanned. From the gutless acts which resulted in the atrocities of 9/11, to the retaliation from the US of A in search of “weapons of mass destruction”.

My argument is that we as a Western country are quick to frown upon the celebratory acts of the Middle Eastern nations at the death of our soldiers, yet we quickly pick them up and engage in them when the situation suits. We are not as unalike from our perceived enemies as we may think, and each side sees validity and justification in their cause and action.

Terrorist acts are in the eye of the beholder, what the 9/11 tragedy is as a terrorist act to us, is the same as NATO air strikes on civilian neighbourhoods in Afghanistan. Don’t be so blasé and quick to judge the thoughts and responses of others before indulging in your own hedonistic activities.