I figured simplicity was best in that case.
I spent the beginning of that year feeling broken mentally and emotionally after the ending of a relationship, then took that energy and channeled it into my harrowing near-death due to a sudden incarcerated hernia, and finally sailed smoothly into the winter by almost going completely broke.
But other than that, it was great.
So with my 2008 being so merry and gay, how did 2009 fare for little ol' me?
Well, it just so happens that 2009 marks the first year of The King Of Deprecation, (which is obviously this ridiculous pseudo-philosohpical blog you're reading now) and therefore that makes it easy to go back in time and follow the tumultuous, tear-jearking, and sexual journey through the ups and downs of The Aftermath of 2008.
So, now comes the question.
What have we learned Charlie Brown?
EARLY 2009
The last new year started off with a bang. (silence...)
I ended 2008 by just barely scraping by, still healing physically, mentally and emotionally.
So it only makes sense to hit me again, this time with the drawn-out death of my only companion (yes, sad in itself), my cat of 15 years, Hobbes.
Not the best way to begin the year, I guess I should have planned things differently.
Without my feline friend I was now truly alone, with no one to throw my constant comments and witty asides to while working at home (I really need an Ed McMahon character that follows me around).
A month later I had my biggest set back of the whole ordeal, when I discovered that the dramatic hernia situation that had nearly claimed my life a few moths prior was back, albeit in a much less life-threatening way.
This became one of the lowest points in my entire life.
I felt that I would never escape my own bodily defects, and, though not very logical, my emotions swamped me in the fear that this was to be forever my lot in life: to be broken, and to remain that way forever. Limited, feeble, restricted in almost every aspect of life we take for granted. (All of them).
My birthday that month was slightly less than badass.
My awful outlook on life, fueled by my extreme unhappiness, gave birth to many fascinating (though I'm sure quite depressing and bleak) philosophical conversations about the nature existence.
More than ever before, my mind drifted into constant examination of myself and the world around me, and I discovered that I seemed to enjoy psychoanalyzing people.
During this ever-so-groovy period, I spent much time focusing on two main issues that were quite apparent in my (then shitty) writing.
Love and happiness.
More specifically, why each of those concepts were negative.
I had no love, and I had no happiness, and therefore I had to come up with some pretty over-the-top rationalizations of of my place in life. Not that there aren't downsides and things to take note of with those concepts, but maybe, just maybe (I don't want to jump to conclusions yet) I went a bit too far with it.
My new found outlet and interest in writing about these observations was my only real therapy. As each new idea, opinion, feeling and perspective came to mind, I channeled my miserable mood into a light edition of what some might call 'enthusiam' or 'excitement' or 'slightly-less-miserable-ness' and began to collect them in a notebook in the goal of turning many of them into poorly written blogs.
Great job!
MID 2009
Though my own bodily frailty and my bitter perspective on the world were always on my mind, as the year progressed, somehow I managed to turn my frothing, torturous self-pity into a frothing, torturous self-pity-based series of essays that showcased my personal insecurities and my need to impress others.
(Impressed with my honesty there? 'Cause, you know, that took courage to just come out and be so open about that. I mean, I would admire someone who did that... so... you know... you might... um... ).
During my lifetime, I have developed a strange skill that allows me to adapt my personal pain, hatred, and depression, and use it as a tool to help me forge my creative endeavors. In fact, I became so good at it, that any time I found myself in a new, freshly-minted (still in box) dramatic situation, within minutes I would already be thinking, "Fuck this really sucks! I can't wait to write a song with this emotion!"
And now I applied it to writing.
(See? Look at me go!!)
Though miserable, by the middle of 2009, my mind was now running at a ridiculously high RPM (which was unnecessary given the speed I was traveling at). Every day would bring a new all-consuming thought about myself or those around me, a new perspective about this grand turd we called awareness, and philosophical ramblings that led me to momentary excitement and potential brilliance, only to end up at "so what?"
My personal struggle with the concept of happiness continued, as I tried my best to demonize it (you know, since I didn't have it) in blogs like "I Resent Your Happiness". Also waged was my battle with love in general, with blogs like "(Mis)Perceptions Of Love" and others (which I perpetually shot sniper rounds at from the comfort of my lofty elitist bell tower, while shouting, "you made me play second base!!!").
Though I was really beginning to... to... "enjoy" (please apply that term loosely) writing my thoughts on things, and putting them out into the world as a form of self-reflective therapy, my emotions were building under the surface (this is the same surface, by the way, that was already obviously tormented, rage-filled, and super-depressive. One can only imagine the HIDDEN emotions under that).
The constant, and seemingly hopeless struggle with the medical system, combined with my ever more erratic emotions and über-pessimism about the futile crap-shoot of life, culminated in my darkest period of recent times.
My essay about suicide summed up my whole outlook at the time.
I enjoyed nothing. I looked forward to nothing. I was eternally unhappy.
I really felt that I genuinely had nothing at all. I had chosen the shortest straw, and I could see no good reasons to continue trudging through this pointlessness.
(You know what I should do about that? Dwell on it some more! That will help!).
LATE 2009
So, if you thought contemplating suicide was the lowest point I could get to, just wait until...
Actually, you were right, it was the lowest point.
Obviously I did not end my life, though I really don't recall why not. (There's still plenty of time for that).
Perhaps the reason, or part of it at least, was due to my obsessive focus on finishing my five-years-in-the-making 3rd album "Moira's Lake", for my personal music project Envinity.
When fully engrossed in working on something I love, though I may complain about the work, though I may be stressed out, though I may be tired, I find that I counteract all of my negative emotional mood swings (perhaps not ALL...).
Seeing this in action, I wrote about my new theory that my personal happiness, or satisfaction, is tied very closely to my creative output and productivity.
Hmmm. So is that the key to my depression?
Yeahhhhhnnnnnoooo. Sort of. One of may keys, really.
In September I finally caught a lucky break with my health problems and, after months and months of awful, annoying struggles, managed to get my surgery taken care of.
It was an amazing relief, and one less thing to add to the billion pestering thoughts that greeted me each sun-shiney day.
With that portion of my life 100% fully behind me forever and ever with literally no chance of returning in the future in any way, shape or form, (take a breath in), my mind focused back on what it does best:
Over-analyzing every god damn thing.
When I returned to my blogs, I wrestled with more heady concepts that bothered me, namely spirituality and belief in general, in cheeky essays like Gardening With God, and The Inefficacy Of Prayer.
I inadvertently improved my writing-style and storytelling skills by pushing myself to be more naked and vulnerable in my essays (like in the blog "Soul Mates"), and turned up the scrutiny and self-deprecation on myself. (How could I have turned up the "self-deprecation" on someone else?).
With my mind thoroughly engrossed in finishing my album, and writing new observations on life, I felt, for once in a long while, okay.
Not great, mind you. But "okay" was a welcomed improvement.
Say, maybe I had found the key to my own happiness...
END OF 2009
I was on fire. (FUCK!!!!)
I was monstrously productive (I did a thing), and I was busy all of the time. I would complain that there was not enough time to get every aspect of the music, graphics, writing, editing, marketing, and self-fellatio completed.
My full release came (wow, what's with all of the sudden sexual humor? What does that say about me right now?) on Halloween when, after 5 years of work, I released Moira's Lake to the world (see: a few people on the internet).
Now I could finally relax after all of that... stress... and... okay, I'm getting bored and restless already... really restless and frustrated now... nothing to work on... depression coming back... shit... I thought I had the magical cure-all???!!!!
My big projects had worked wonders to keep my mind focused, and much less likely to dwell on the negative. Now that the projects were done, my mind was free to wander back into philosophical bleakness, and I drifted into the quite familiar emotional mire.
My "too many to count by now" existential crisis was upon me again, and wrapped me up in a flour tortilla with mixed cheese and chipotle aiole. (Mmmm... actually can I have a side of salsa with that too? Perfect. Thanks).
As I dissected myself further at the end of the year, the essays became increasingly life-focused and philosophical, dealing with the essential questions of existence: who am I? What do I want?
Understanding the nature of my priorities in life was now an important question.
My existential crisis forced me ever closer to the causes of what affects me, and how I react to them. Everyday brought with it a new way to look at myself, a new observation on my behavior, a new revelation on who I really am as a person (usually not flattering, but still fascinating).
Things came to a decidedly uncharacteristic peak when, madly pacing around my apartment one day in search of some understanding of who I am and what I want, it suddenly hit me.
I've never made "enjoying my life" a priority.
Everything up until then revolved around my creative projects, and my happiness took a back seat to the art. In fact, I seemed to sabotage my chances at happiness, just to create more pain, and then vicariously, more art.
This was the person I'd known as "Niko" for nearly half of my life.
I was almost afraid to admit to myself the treasonous thought that, "maybe I want to enjoy my life now."
What a strange notion.
And yet, I think I do.
"What? Enjoy your life? Who the hell is this person?"
At the moment, I'm not sure.
That's for 2010 to decide.
My head hurts.
ABOUT THE BLOGS THEMSELVES
In order to write this post, and also the last blog about my "best" posts of 2009, I sat myself down in front of the computer (so far sounds fairly cut and dried), and began reading through everything I've posted last year.
In my mind, this would be a fun task. I was guessing that I was going to enjoy reading about my mindset and observations during the often frustrating times of spring '09.
What I discovered upon my first few readings, was that I, the very person who wrote these blogs, was having trouble even getting to the end of some of them.
"Wow, that's kind of embarrassing," I thought out loud.
Not the feeling I was hoping for.
Sure I knew that my earlier posts would not be as good, but these were pretty unreadable.
The observation at the heart of each essay was all fine and good –points about honesty, the nature of emotion, and lust– but the writing behind it made me want to fall asleep and dream of molten river of turds.
(I can't tell if that is relaxing or not, I'll have to try it tonight).
My perspective was all off.
There was no personal connection, no emotion, no story, no real reason to care about the notion, idea, or observation contained within the big, intimidating blocks of text.
As I soldiered on, I (thankfully) slowly began developing my writing style into something more entertaining and readable (subjectively speaking of course).
Due to my insecurities as a freshly minted "writer", I felt I had to prove myself to the world by using a constant slew of big words and over-the-top, out-of-place humor. Yeah, that'll make 'em love it!!
(OMNIFUTUANT!!)
What an idiot I was.
Well, perhaps just ignorant of these concepts.
Sure I could throw out some interesting points of view on myself and others (we all have legs), but if there is no personal connection to the idea, why would you give a shit about reading it? (Answer: you didn't give a shit about reading it).
Look at a post from March '09 and then one from October through December and you'll see what I mean. The point being made is just fine, but it's just not told in an interesting way.
On second thought, just take my word for it and only read the newer stuff.
What a difference a year makes.
2009 VS 2008
So overall, how does 2009 fare when compared to 2008?
Well, considering that I was destroyed mentally, emotionally, physically and financially in 2008, losing my cat of 15 years, dealing with a second hernia, extreme bouts of depression, near suicide, and existential crises made for a much improved year!
The setbacks, and personal crises, though awful at the moment, served as a wonderful reference point to learn more about the person I have become (whoever the fuck he is), and the world around me.
I do strongly believe that pain is one of the best catalysts for change, and with that in mind, change I did.
If 2008 was the worst year of my life, than I will officially dub 2009 my year of awareness, says me.
Now the real test is to see if I can begin actually applying these observations to my life, with the goal of, dare I say, IMPROVING IT (wha??!!), and make 2010 my year of implementation.
Well, good fucking luck on that.
Anyone else learn any big lessons about themselves this past year?
You might also be interested in:
- 2008: The Worst Year Of My Life
- Hernia 2: A Love Story
- Focus On My What?
- Too Early For Suicide?
- Internal And External Priorities
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Tags: blog personal+struggle philosophy psychology life+lessons humor sarcasm self+improvement
