A Prelude to Confession.

The core values, motivations and traits of a person tend to stay constant throughout a lifetime. Yet through the course of a life the manner by which people either protect or project their deepest, most authentic selves may change in a dramatic fashion.

In terms relevant to this blog, we can sometimes become either more or less XYZ than we used to be. Sometimes we can even name the change, instead of having to use XYZ. And the irony of this post is that I, author of Too XYZ, have detected a shift within me that I can actually describe with actual words, and not my trademark Too XYZ.

What is this shift?

I need to interact with more accessible people about more of my issues.

Note that I said "interact" and not simply "share". Because sharing could be this blog post. Or a Facebook update. Or an email. I do that sometimes, with mixed limited results. But to interact with people about my sometime internal horrors would provide me with a ritual cleansing of sorts when the periodic fogs of spiritual and emotional warfare once again descend upon my heart. The notion of interaction in all of this is crucial, because I know a few people who care about me, but have no idea what to say, or even clam up when approached with negative topics. So their love is appreciated but I need those willing to engage with me as well.

I'm not totally silent. There may be a cryptic Facebook status here and there, or a weird tweet that gives some indication of the battle within. I get pissed and write about it here. But those are vague reflexive observances of my internal ordeal. They are almost side effects of the turmoil. That hint of steam emmerging from the pressure cooker as it does its work. Not a concerted effort to lay out in detail what I am grappling with at any given time.

For most of my life I have been okay with that. After all if I am going at it alone and not revealing the weird nature of my intangible plague of spirit, the solutions are all under my control. The attack plan is mine. The PR is mine. There are no questions. No judgment. But when there are no questions, I get to nowhere new. I don't see anything from more than one set of tired eyes. I don't form a new plan of attack. I detect the next enemy charge, dig in, and fire as many rounds as I can. When I am out of ammo, I duck and wait for it to pass, knowing that in the end, if nothing else, I will become too tired to fight against the unseen and will collapse, get looted and be left alone until I rebuild. Afterward I will dust myself off and head to rehearsal for my latest play, or type a chapter up in the novel and nobody knows the difference. Ty, as he always was.

I'm not okay with that anymore. I am still in many ways a private person, and I will always be an introvert. However, this business of polishing my persona to a show room shine before stepping out to be amongst people so they can't see what is happening has run its course in my life. I'm done with shining up the bronze statue of me people walk passed everyday. No matter how bizarre, stupid, or crazy people are going to find my fears and "demons", the time has come to be more frank about them.

The problem is, that will probably mean a mass exodus of some sort. I could be wrong of course, but it seems that over the years people have built up this idea of me. "Ty Unglebower", a character in the play of life, as opposed to Ty, the human being that is over at our house for dinner tonight. (It happens once in a while.) For many years that was easy. I'd go somewhere, be "Ty" for a while, and feel okay about it. Then I'd come back home, feel the fog descend, and fight my way out of it myself. In so doing, not only could everyone keep their idea of "Ty" alive, but I came away with a sense of empowered self-satisfaction. I had fought off the invisible attackers on my own. 50 against 1 victory was mine.

If you will recall in my bold print statement above, I called for accessible people as well. I emphasize I have some people who care. But interaction with the few of the most important ones can be difficult because of distance. There is always the phone or Facebook, yes, but when you are in the bunker, surrounded, and need ammo and reinforcements, nothing really beats having a physical presence there with you to talk out a few things. Yes, getting support from others via social media is better than nothing, but it makes it easy for others to be dismissive of my plight. Even if I share more than I have been, I get met with the atrocious silence, or with the flippant. I mentioned I felt as though I was in serious trouble the other day in my status. One response was "Good luck with that." Thanks a lot...

Yet despite the obvious risk, I think it is time. Time to be more open, more detailed, more frank about my struggles and pains. It won't be easy, to leave that bronze statue behind for a while. But the end result, hopefully, will be not only a greater understanding of me by people near and far, but also fewer solitary battles in the future. I pray that with this new candor, I will find my current people more willing to be there, and perhaps attract new, understanding people into my life that were not there before. Maybe even a few that have already beaten the same enemies I am fighting now.

The fog will lift. It would just be nice to hear friendly voices in it when it descends. Even if I can't see the faces.

Embracing the Mess

A mess, even a big one, is not a tragedy. Even if something is so screwed up it has long reaching consequences that get worse with each day they are not addressed, they are still just messes, so long as they are not life threatening to someone.

It's not easy to separate messes and screw ups from tragedies and dangers. I speak from personal experience. When I find myself in a mess, especially one that I contributed to myself, my first reaction to run hither and yon and pound on every door, ask every question, research every aspect of it, in order to clean up the mess 100% as soon as possible. My default position is, "No messes. No trouble. Ever."

The problem with that, as I have learned, is that you can whip yourself into a frenzy. Which causes you to miss things. Makes you more anxious about your problem. Which makes the problem seem worse, which increases your need to fix it right away, which leads to more frenzy and so on. Being constantly worried about how to get out of a mess is not productive. It has taken me years to realize this, and I still don't put it into practice as often as I should. But I am working on it.

Without going into detail, I have had, and continue to have, a larger than normal mess in regards to my student loans. Mistakes. Financial difficulty. Misunderstandings. All of these things led me to be in quite a state in regards to my student loans. And the worry, fear, confusion, and lack of progress in fixing these unusual difficulties was beginning to affect other aspects of my life. So obsessed was I with solving each and every single solitary issue with my loans, right away, that I couldn't seem to get a perspective on any of it, or even on things that were outside of the loan situation. I became convinced that if I did not get everything 100% right, and do so yesterday, I was going to be unable to move forward with anything in my life at all.

How far do you think that got me? If you are inclined to think it was like having a car stuck in the mud, and flooring the gas in order to get out, you are very perceptive. That is exactly what it was like. The more I pushed, and the faster I tried to get out of the mess, the deeper I dug myself into the mud. And the more mud I caused to fly all over anything that was near by.

Finally, at one point, I basically said, "fuck it", and embraced the mess I was in. I did not ignore the mess. But I embraced it. I took several steps back, and admitted to myself, "I'm in one hell of a fix with all of these student loan errors. It's a huge screw up, and my own ignorance is partly to blame.So are circumstances beyond my control. It's a mess."

Sound obvious? Surely I already knew that from the start of the troubles. And of course I did. But the difference is, I was trying to run as fast as I could to catch up with a snowballing problem. I was going bat shit crazy trying to make it all go away. But I had never really just accepted that I had a problem. I just wanted it gone, but in my zeal to get it gone, I neglected to just own the problem itself.

There was a stigma attached to having a financial problem. People would find out. I would look stupid. I would never be taken seriously as a writer, as an artist, or even as an adult, if I had student loan issues. People would find out, and I would have no value or worth in their eyes. The only way to ever be worth a damn in any facet of my life was to instantly fix every single mistake I had made in regards to the student loans. Worse yet, I even tied my self worth into the notion of my student loan screw ups. And I began to hate myself.

Things began to not only feel better, but actually get a little better the day I finally said, "Yep. Big mess. All kinds of issues need to be ironed out here. I made a mistake or two or seven. I have no idea how to fix any of it at all. But there it is."

The simple act of admitting there was a mess in front of me, and especially the acknowledgment for the moment I had no damn clue what to do about it freed me up to first accept my predicament. Accept my ignorance. And extricate the loan debacle from my self worth as a human being. To define it for what it was. An unfortunate set of financial issues that had acted, and would continue to act as a set back in certain parts of my life. But did not have to dominate the other parts. Not long after that, I was able to find the correct paper work I needed to begin addressing the problem. And though it is still a mess, I now see the nature of the mess, and what has to happen next to begin the next stage of clean up.

So, I say, embrace the messes in your life. If someone's life, health, or safety is not at stake, you need to just calm down for a few days. When something is so big or so sloppy that you can't fix it with a step or two, it's probably big enough for you to step back from, and let the giant snow ball stop rolling before you approach it again. Yes, the mess may grow a bit before it shrinks. But if you are going to have to deal with a mess anyway, it might as well be a stationary one, instead of a nebulous moving blob.

How do you effectively deal with the large messes that crop up?

A Fetish for Change?

I sometimes think that people go overboard with the whole "life is change" thing. There are so many religions, modes of operation, slogans, mottoes, blog posts, platitudes, proverbs, and all around contemplation, (and sometimes pontification) over the inevitability of change, and I sometimes doubt not only it's usefulness, but it's accuracy.

True. A lot of things in our life have the potential to change. For good or for bad. But to begin with, does the high level of potential for a thing mean that it is inevitable? Is the fact that something could occur mean that we should accept "constant change" as a world view? I say no, because that is just inviting instability into many aspects of our lives. It deprives us of any degree of a blueprint for moving forward if we are not careful. We become reeds in the wind of time, producing whatever whistled tune the world decides to play for us.

What's worse about it, I think we deprive ourselves of certain dedications, goals, loves, if we begin everything we embark upon with "this is only temporary, no matter how good people think it is."

Way to rally the troops, there. If that's your attitude, go join a Kansas cover band. (Think about it...)

I'm on a second floor apartment. I have faith that I am not going to fall through the floor. It has been inspected. Maintained. I see the landlord around here all the time. Every indication is that I have every right to assume the floor is going to stay under me throughout the entire duration of my living in this domicile. One day, this building, and this floor beneath me, and even the city in which the building sits, will not exist. This I grant you. But the idea that the floor will support my weight as I live here is not something I find subject to any practical change. It is a fact. A constant from the perspective of a life, if not from the perspective of the entire Universe.

Some will no doubt point out that I can never know. There may be a change that  makes the floor fall out from under me, and maybe even kill me in the process. And to this physical possibility I yield. Somebody could chuck a bomb at this building. A tornado could come through and rip it apart. A rare earthquake. Each of those would cause obvious change. But does that mean I should live my life in this apartment each day saying to myself,

"The next step I take in this apartment could be the one that collapses the floor. I might as well embrace the possibility of falling to my death. I should learn to be excited by the process of tumbling in a heap of rubble and being buried in same one day. I should appreciate it,  because life is change, after all. You can't count on anything."

I don't know about you, but I don't feel that embracing the possibility that the floor could cave in is a prescription for a happy life.

Yet people apply this rationale to things other than my admittedly extreme example. They don't aim for job security, or they don't make lasting relationships their goal, because, "everything is change, and the more I accept that, the happier I will be."

Really? You don't think you might be avoiding the emotional commitment of establishing something "permanent" in your life by saying these things?

Maybe the very fact that there is so much change that we cannot control in our lives is why we should all work even harder to establish something that is more resistant to change. Something that can withstand at least the storms that we know are likely to happen in a day, or a lifetime. And as for the highly unlikely scenarios, we can't prepare for them to any great degree anyway. So why not shoot for something permanent?

And permanent things do exist, when taking from the perspective of a human and not a god. Long lasting marriages. People that live in the same house their entire lives. True friendships. Those lucky enough to find and follow their callings. These things I feel are in fact examples of permanence, in so far as everything that is alive at some point will of course die. I just don't think that the fact I will one day die an earthly death signifies that life is nothing but change.

To embrace positive changes as we seek to improve our lot is one thing. So is being prepared for the possibilities of bad changes knocking us off course. But both of these concepts differ from this notion of,

"The hell with it. I'm not going to fall in love with anything, because everything constantly changes anyway. Whatever."

There is nothing wrong with building something to last. There is nothing wrong with looking for things that are long lasting, or even permanent in our lives. Working for those things. Struggling, even dying for them, if needs must. And when such things fail it's okay to mourn them, instead of pretending it doesn't bother you because "everything changes".

I say things are always happening in life. Whether or not that has to mean change all the time is to a great degree up to us.

What about you? What is your take on change? Do you head into battle assuming it will happen, or merely accept it if it does? Is anything permanent from the human perspective? Does embracing change mean that setting goals and keeping relationships is difficult or meaningless? Let me know.

Don't Use the "Force".

I don't like to be forced to do anything. Even by myself. So I don't force myself into anything for which I am not yet ready.

There have been, and continue to be things that I find difficult or impossible that many people are able to do with ease. Things that many insist must be done, even if by force, in order to succeed. (Elevator pitches, cold calling, going to networking events in other cities, going to nightclubs, "getting out there", making sexuality a top priority, establishing social proof, never requesting a separate check, to name more than a few things people have tried to force me to do, usually with unpleasant results.)

I firmly believe there is more than one way to do just about anything. The alternative may be the long way around via a far lonelier road, but we can all basically get there eventually. But we can't ever realize that if we are too busy beating ourselves into submission. (Or allowing ourselves to be beaten thus by someone else.) So instead of forcing myself into some things, I take some time to evaluate why I need to be forced into it in the first place.

When I had a toy with movable parts as a kid, and one of the parts would get stuck somehow, one of the first things an adult would tell me is, "don't force it, you'll break it! Let me take a look." That's because there is a reason for any dysfunction, and discovering that reason will present either present the solution to the problem, or reveal that the cause is hopeless, and that it is time to get a new toy. The same can be said about our own resistences.

"You've got to force yourself to change," you'll here many gurus say. "You need so and so in order to get rich, or popular, or successful, or loved." But the fact is you are Too XYZ to be forced into anything, and when you are, like those toys, things tend to break.

Take a step back. Why don't you want to take this action? What happens when you have been forced to do so in the past? How do you feel when you try to do certain things? Have you always felt this way about an action, or was there a time when you wouldn't have to be "forced" into it? Is there another way to achieve the same goal? If so, should you, or should you try to methodically end your resistance to something? Think long and hard about it. The time an energy spent on such introspection will be worth infinitely more to you than will be the energy spent on trying to force something that just isn't ready to give.

When you look closer at what you have to be forced to do, one of two things happens. You come to understand the components of your resistance and thus can begin to address the smaller issues pertaining to it. When those are addressed, the resistance can sometimes be removed entirely. No force needed. Or, the other result is that you find that an aspect of yourself cannot be changed, and you simply cannot take the action in question. But you can resign to that fact in  deliberate, calm manner, as opposed to being shattered by the defensive fear that springs up when you try to force yourself to do things you do not want to do.

In either case, you have learned more about yourself. And whether that means a block has been removed, or you are able to find an alternate route, you will have benefited from the simple act of introspection. For more than had you been forced.

How the C&O Canal Taught Me a Life Lesson

I live just about two blocks from the C&O Canal's towpath. (If you don't know what it is, click the link.) On most days, I cover anywhere from two to six miles on it, as part of my semi-regular exercise regime. I did this even before I lived right next door to it. For the last 3 years I suppose, I have been a regular visitor to "The Canal".

Lots of people use it. And lots of people make a mess out of it buy littering. Rare is the hike that I take where I don't find some sort of detritus from lazy ass people who just drop shit wherever the stand. Some of the worst offenders are the health nuts that are obsessed with their body's health, but not that of the ecosystem through which they run or bike. I see many a protein bar wrapper.

Litter pisses me off anyway. Litter in a National Park is worse. And for a time, I used to take a bag with me and pick up everything I saw, no matter what it was. That, as you can imagine, got tiring sometimes, to the point of ruining the walk for me. So, I didn't do that anymore. But the litter still bugged the hell out of me, and I wanted to give back to a Park that provided me with a service. So I came up with a plan that allowed me to both give back to The Canal, (and the National Park Service), while also still being able to enjoy it.

I decided, first and foremost, that I would designate certain days to picking up any trash. There will always be trash there because there will always be lazy, selfish bastards. I can't stop it, but I can play a part, and I can go into a walk knowing that it's a "pick-up" walk.

Second, in order not to be overwhelmed, even on a "pick-up" day, I made an agreement with myself that I would only pick up that litter which fell directly in, or slightly off of, my personal path. Both walking up, and walking home. No more delving into the sometimes thick woods, or mosquito infested swamp ponds to pick up a few cans. I figured if I stuck with what presented itself to me directly, there would still be plenty of trash to pick up. I would still be playing my part as custodian of that which I personally used.

Finally, I put limits on what I was willing to pick up, even if it crossed my path. An apple core, for instance, I know will decompose back into the earth. Might even feed a hungry creature. So I leave such things.

I do not touch cigar or cigarette butts, or anything that appears to have been directly in someone's mouth. I avoid used tissues as well. (Such things are harder to pick up with anything other than my hand, and though I could wash my hands later, there are some places I don't need to go.)

And so now, I have a more balanced, enjoyable, and hence effective way to play my small part in cleaning up the canal. (Well, the towpath, technically.)

Another thing one does a lot when walking the C&O alone is thinking. Sometimes the monotony of that "tunnel of trees" through which a person walks, sometimes in near silence, brings about automatic meditation. And one day it occurred to me that my new system for picking up trash on the Canal was sort of what I did in other areas of life. At least, it could be applicable to same.

Consider:

There are many problems out there in our world. (All the litter on the whole path.) Some tend to take care of themselves. (apple cores). Some do not. (cans, plastic bags.) And some problems are just too deep, or problematic, or beyond us. (snot rags. cigarette butts.)

So we can't possibly spend all of our time trying to solve every problem. But if we set aside some specific time (my pick-up days) to do our best to make some problems that are within our reach (picking up the litter that lie in my direct path) better, we can get a lot more done, and feel less burned out in the process.

Sometimes my walks are just for me. Just as sometimes our time, no matter how brief, needs to be just for us. But to be grateful, and to acknowledge my place in the world, I put forth effort to make better that which crosses my path. A friend in need. An old man going into the same store as I. There will be plenty of that in a given lifetime, without having to get ourselves buried in the weeds everyday trying to solve all of the world's problems every time we leave the house.

So go forth, friends, and as you walk this long canal of life on earth, take some time for yourself, some time for others, and if something comes into your life that you think you can make better, do so.

And maybe, once in a great while, you can still delve deep into the woods, and pick up everything you see, just for good measure. Just don't get lost, and always come back to the towpath before dark. (It closes at dark, after all.)


I'll see you on the C&O...

Band-Aids

“It will work for a while,” goes the old cliché’, “but it’s just a band-aid.”

So? We need to embrace band-aids, not avoid them.

I agree of course that some problems are so serious that very particular steps must be taken to fix them. But the problem with the whole “it’s just a band aid” warning is that it overlooks something.

For the right things, band-aids work. And they work just fine.

One problem I think people that are Too XYZ have is that they reach a point, (as I often do) where they feel that they must organically fix, alter or “heal” all of the weird stuff about themselves. And that until they can make a quirk or deficiency go totally away, they are somehow less mature. They say to themselves;

“Because most people like the bar scene, and get most of their relationships or sex from there, I need to find a way to also be comfortable with the bar scene." "I like to read, but only cheap romance novels. It will best serve my intellectual reputation if I find a way to enjoy the classics." "I need to find a way to write a better resume for myself, because I just can't seem to get it right."

Those would be the three complicated or stressful solutions to these situations. But all three also have band-aid options.

One could meet people online. Read the Study Notes or abridged versions of the classics. If you have the money pay somebody to write a resume for you and be done with it.

Ask yourself if the fundamental problem you are trying to solve is really going to have far reaching consequences to your conscience or your safety. If it isn’t, forget the rebuilding process. Stick a band-aid on there. Take the short cut. Few will care. And if they do care, and start to preach “The Band-aid” sermon to you, tell them you would prefer to spend your energies on improving things you can control. Such as avoiding negative people. Then walk away.

I am a prime example of this. I am a terrible navigator. Part of it comes from not having a lot of driving experience when I was younger. Part of it is just me. As a result, I went to fewer places then most of my friends because I was scared of getting lost. (I didn’t have a cell phone in my youth.) Job and social potential decreased, and so on with the rest of those dominoes.

For a while, I had it in my head that I had to learn to be a better navigator. Study maps. Take practice runs to complicated places. Train myself, despite the stress levels and damage to my spirit, to be able to drive anywhere.

Then, I borrowed a GPS device for the first time and everything changed. I could suddenly go anywhere, with almost no stress to my system.

GPS is a band-aid, and I know it. But I don't care. I’m still a lousy navigator. But when I got my own GPS that problem ceased to matter. Band-aid. I would much rather slap a band aid on a problem like this, and know I can move on, (literally), then go nowhere until I beat those skills into my head. I can now drive anywhere I want to, without fear, just by pushing a few buttons.

What are your minor problems? What short cut band-aids can you use to solve them?