Right now, I have almost 20 projects in various stages of completion. In each case I have created the basic underpinning of something about which I am incredibly passionate, set up a system by which I can reach completion...
And then just stopped working on the damn thing.
Usually, it's because I dream up some new idea, and realize the superiority of that one to the original one. Sometimes, it's because I dream bigger than my limited brain capacity can match and find myself unable to actually do any of the things that seemed so easy in my brain when I was concocting them. In all cases, though, I am truly disappointed about my seeming inability to make anything come of what I really believe are amazing ideas.
I also think that my failure to pursue any of these things to fruition is harming me psychologically. My mind is like the storage room of a compulsive hoarder. I have reams of paper stacked to the ceiling, tottering towers of half-empty files threatening to collapse at any moment and obstruct my already narrow path. My brain is a fire-hazard.
I expect marshals to show up any day now and shut the thing down for my own safety.
I need to clean it out, but to do that I have to actually start FINISHING FUCKING PROJECTS, and short of complete mental reprogramming, I'm not sure how to do that. I've never been good at finishing things.
I remember times in the Army during PT tests. I would be coming up on the end of the 2-mile run; I'd actually be able to SEE the finish line. I wouldn't be hurting that badly. I wouldn't be out of breath. I wouldn't be in anyway unable to finish out the run. Even so, it was always the worst part of the PT test to me, because it would take every ounce of heart I could muster not to stop in my tracks.
I have no idea why I am this way. I had hoped the Army would help me fix it.
I think it made me worse.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Drinking and Addiction
I'm pretty sure it's time to quit drinking.
I've said it before, and I've meant it. I've even succeeded, at least insofar as I understand "quitting". Truth is, I've never actually decided that I'd stop drinking entirely. What I've always meant is that I'd cut back. I'd still have a 6-pack about two nights a week, but I wouldn't drink to excess during the period I had ordained. The point was always an introspective one; I'd go for a trial run without getting smashed, and see during that period whether or not I missed the feeling.
My logic was sound, so I thought. If I didn't crave the feeling of intoxication, then I wasn't in any danger. I'd choose a night to end my self-imposed limitation, and I'd slide back into getting tipsy 3 or 4 times a week. I rarely get sick, black out, or truly misbehave, so I figured that my habitual indulgence in beer couldn't honestly be construed as problematic.
I noticed something last weekend, though.
I'm having a harder and harder time spotting my limits. Even as recently as a few months ago, I could see myself coming up on the danger zone and reign myself in before I passed those markers. It was always a point of pride for me, since I have so many alcoholics in my family.
I'd never fall to that beast. I have self-control. I have discipline.
I think I had all of that too. But there's been this slow build lately. As my tolerance has ticked up, so too has my consumption. I used to drink a beer or two when I was in the mood. Now, if there's a six-pack in the house, I will drink ALL of it. If it's a 12 pack instead?
Yeah. I'll drink all of that too.
It isn't because I want to be drunk, either. I just like the taste of beer. I just don't want to stop when I have started.
Man, that even sounds like alcoholism to me.
Anyhow, for 14 days, I am completely abstaining from alcohol. After that, I'll decide whether or not the abstinence becomes permanent.
I've said it before, and I've meant it. I've even succeeded, at least insofar as I understand "quitting". Truth is, I've never actually decided that I'd stop drinking entirely. What I've always meant is that I'd cut back. I'd still have a 6-pack about two nights a week, but I wouldn't drink to excess during the period I had ordained. The point was always an introspective one; I'd go for a trial run without getting smashed, and see during that period whether or not I missed the feeling.
My logic was sound, so I thought. If I didn't crave the feeling of intoxication, then I wasn't in any danger. I'd choose a night to end my self-imposed limitation, and I'd slide back into getting tipsy 3 or 4 times a week. I rarely get sick, black out, or truly misbehave, so I figured that my habitual indulgence in beer couldn't honestly be construed as problematic.
I noticed something last weekend, though.
I'm having a harder and harder time spotting my limits. Even as recently as a few months ago, I could see myself coming up on the danger zone and reign myself in before I passed those markers. It was always a point of pride for me, since I have so many alcoholics in my family.
I'd never fall to that beast. I have self-control. I have discipline.
I think I had all of that too. But there's been this slow build lately. As my tolerance has ticked up, so too has my consumption. I used to drink a beer or two when I was in the mood. Now, if there's a six-pack in the house, I will drink ALL of it. If it's a 12 pack instead?
Yeah. I'll drink all of that too.
It isn't because I want to be drunk, either. I just like the taste of beer. I just don't want to stop when I have started.
Man, that even sounds like alcoholism to me.
Anyhow, for 14 days, I am completely abstaining from alcohol. After that, I'll decide whether or not the abstinence becomes permanent.
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