We’re back! Part two! Listen to part one for the intro and leadup. Now let’s get busy.
In reference to a recent doping experience I was going through that was phone-based, in the Type episode I said I “made myself see reality and then it was over.”
…. This is perhaps a bit of an over and understatement.
What really happened?
Throughout our phone romance, I continually reiterated to both of us that “this isn’t real though, this is only words on the phone.” Including our long speaking conversations.
And knowing that, I was skeptical and upfront about it. I put an end to a lot of the fantasy talk this guy doled out – don’t tell me what you imagine happening, that’s 100% fodder for emotional masturbation, what I care about is what actually happens.
I forced conversation into the realm of logistics and unsexy practicality “okay, and you live 4 hours away, so even if we DO hit it off in person, which we might not – I might hate your vibe and tell you to leave – but if we DO get along, then what? Then we have torture? Because we are 4 hours away. OH, you’re going to move here. Great, well start applying for jobs and looking for houses, make sure that’s something you can actually do, let me know what you find…”
As usual, I was dad.
Because I needed this airy (all thoughts, conversations, plans, banter) relationship to touch the ground.
I was also paying attention, sniffing out the reality in between the words. Because people who can talk well – and obviously this guy was gifted with words - are people who sell well.
So, I listened up, absorbed, and noted when details slipped. When I was being sold a story, rather than hearing a recounting. And just tucked it away.
Not going nuts trying to figure out what the reality could be, because I’ll never know… but just taking note of the discrepancies existing, at all.
“I think this guy has a tendency to tell a tale or spin words a certain way. Don’t love it. Heads up.”
So in those ways, I did well. Considering the lure – a bottomless well of idealized imaginings – versus my reality – a completely self-supporting, as I’ve described it before, “work camp,” of an existence most of the time… quite proud of my logical self.
AND ALSO.
I did let myself have some feelings. Not as many as I could have, but too many.
And when I say that I “made myself see reality and then it was over,” what I really mean is “we had plans to meet, he cried panic attack and cancelled last minute, I gave him the chance to explain, the conversation went nowhere, I gave him another opportunity to talk, it again went nowhere, and THEN it was over.”
Which is a lot less badass sounding.
But a lot more human.
I sortof have a problem with all the advice that’s like “if they fuck up one time, be done girl! Let them rot in hell!” I do believe people deserve chances because being here as a person is a living nightmare. But that’s just me.
Anyways.
When he had the opportunity to show himself in reality and then didn’t… and then didn’t want to talk it out when I tried to be understanding… I took that as the signal that there was no reality to any of it.
That fact was about to be revealed. He retreated. And that’s the end.
I processed that broad, all-encompassing, assessment instead of worrying about the individual details.
And so, I recommend that you, similarly, don’t obsess over “what was real?!” Instead work with and try to accept “doesn’t matter, ultimately, none of it was proven real. None of it became real after building the myth.”
Take the whole thing out with a sweeping motion, instead of trying to examine and exorcise each separate untruth.
Then I zoomed my thoughts ahead a year or two, and asked “will I still care about this?” Nah. Probably not.
Another helpful processing tool.
But the bigger question that will help the mind the most?
What will I think about it, as far as the meaning or purpose it had?
How can this non-story become a finished tale?
How can the mystery be given an answer?
If you can find one, it’ll save you six months of rumination.
So I found the good parts of the experience. The reasons it may have happened.
I remembered how to feel - great and then very bad, I got a creative jumpstart, I had some comfort and companionship to get through thanksgiving, I remembered what it was like to be excited and open again. This relationship, as I said before, broke me open. It was the first reminder of what connection could feel like. What love and attention felt like.
It had a point, even if it never made it off the phone.
Even if it wasn’t real, it did something real.
In that way, I think I processed the event in the context that made it go down easiest and least rumination-inspiring, rather worrying about my imagined fantasies. It cut down the mourning and computing by an unfathomable amount. I was my own sassy gay girlfriend saying, “honey, open your eyes, and name what REALLY HAPPENED in physical reality.”
And that is also a tip I’d like to expand on.
“Recenter to what is observed fact.”
When you notice your mind getting away from you. The stomach jumpies taking place. Your thoughts entering dreamworlds….
(Make no mistake, I love that shit. In the past I ate it for every meal when I had a crush.)
Now, instead, what I’m now doing is refocusing my attention on what HAS HAPPENED. Not on phones, but between two bodies on a physical plane.
With this guy? Literally nothing. We never interacted in that realm.
With the guy I’m now going on a few dates with maybe? That’s all. I can think of our two couple-hours-long meets. Two kisses that were okay. Our teeth touched once and that was a big bummer. Laughing a lot and being attracted to him have happened.
But not.. laughing a lot and being attracted to him in countless made-up scenarios where we have the perfect chemistry, passion and withholding, and physical back and forth. That’s made up! That didn’t happen. And as much as mind would love to pretend it did for some body tinglies…
I don’t let it go there.
I notice the happy feeling. I notice I’m imagining. I force my mind to go back to the memory of what DID happen.
Which is pretty boring. Again, fine. Fun enough. Cute. Would do again.
But nothing to stay up all night thinking and feeling about. Nothing to obsessively communicate or worry about.
And that is helping me to keep living my life while keeping this guy I’m dating in proper scale and perspective.
Nothing has really happened.
The facts are vanilla. The material isn’t masturbation worthy.
It’s especially helping me with my other situation, too. The guy I felt a strong, life-changing, connection with who disappeared who is now back. Or, trying to be.
My mind likes him far more than things like sleeping, as I mentioned.
And with him rapping on my windows lately, it’s been a test of will to stop myself from indulging in fantasies. They’ve all been created already. I’m teetering on the edge of falling face first into them. They half-engage every time I think of him. My insides feel like fireflies.
I really, really, want to shoot up on talking to and thinking about this guy.
And I’m not. For weeks, I’ve resisted his (on the surface) perfect apologies and beggings.
Thanks to bringing thoughts back to reality when I catch emosturbation creeping in.
I feel an excited flutter? I stop. I circle my thoughts back to visualizing what’s ACTUALLY happening in that moment. Me, alone, in bed, in my comfy little nook, in my cozy RV, wrapped in snuggly blankets, cuddled up next to Marcus Barks. Not the other way around because somehow he has 2/3rds of the bed.
I think of the life that I’ve made for myself. And myself within it. And myself within myself.
I Russian doll myself, imagining me inside of me.
I concentrate on those feelings from this situation. The one actually taking place. The one where I am my boyfriend / life partner. And I’m here to take care of myself. As I have been for years.
This life I’ve cultivated? Is my reality.
Not the one I’m being sold.
I find it’s comforting. Without being overstimulating. Without creating lies for myself that make me lose my marbles.
And that’s another helpful point I’ve found.
Remembering the reality of what happens to me when I am drowning in self-stimulation, which is usually based on nothing. Creating a false reality of suffering that I could wholly do without, if I stopped doing it to myself.
So when I’ve been tempted, I’ve also been grounding myself into the question:
When I have a connection in my life that takes over my brain… How does that ACTUALLY feel? As a whole?
Sure, I can think of all the ways it makes me feel good. As I keep saying, the stomach doodlings and I go way back. My ego is excited for a short period. I feel special and on top of the world….
Briefly.
But a more complete vision is seeing myself overwhelmed, overstimulated, not sleeping, not caring for myself, and routinely anxious when my reassurance spring isn’t available or answering the way I want them to. The way they did at one point.
Me: getting worn down. Run into the ground. And desperately reaching for my dope string. Checking my phone constantly. My mood, determined by external events. Volatility at an all time high. Every minute of every day, they’re on the mind. There is never a time of clarity or blank space.
I get weak. Pathetic. Demotivated in other areas of life. Spiteful towards anyone who isn’t my drug dealer when they’re the only one I want to hear from. I NEED to hear from to get a bump.
…
And feeling those sensations viscerally – trying to self-stimulate with THOSE thoughts… ugh. It cranks up some other emotions.
Remembering this option, I choose “not that.”
I like this alternative life I’ve created, where I hang out, calmly, with myself, not waiting for someone else to join the scene as if there’s a dotted outline person sitting next to me, and I have some degree of control over my thoughts and feelings.
And remembering that difference – feeling each of the two possibilities - noting the relief of the conditions I have now… Really doesn’t inspire me to want to hit the fantasy board. It pushes me away.
I just want to be here, observing, with clarity, taking everything in stride, and slowly building (or not) a thing with another person that doesn’t corrupt the rest of my experience.
For once, as the owner-operator of a chronically depressed brain, I’m realizing… I don’t want to be jettisoned into a manic high that’s littered with devastating lows, with none of the emotional turbulence being necessary or rooted in material events.
I don’t want my old way of what I knew as “love.”
I want sanity and the ability to remain in my own life while adding something to it, not drugged-up escapism completely separated from real life.
I never want to feel as spun out, anxious, and desperate as I used to whenever I met someone who was a hopeful “maybe.”
I’m done emosturbating.
Maybe this is maturity… maybe this is settling into my existence, finally… but I choose me – my daily experience – over some (probably fake) relationship.
Switching your style of relationship is completely possible. But in my experimenting, it seems like you have to find the inverse reward to make it work.
When we’re fixated on someone and using them as our life support, we’re externally motivating ourselves. We’re relying on the idea of someone outside of us providing our positive experiences. Our goals are all about succeeding through means of this individual.
And that’s how we get codependent, anxious, enmeshed, etc.
It’s dog training. It’s reward. Positive reinforcement. That we have placed outside ourselves. So our attention is obsessively outside of us, on them, reaching, grasping, trying to earn.
And…
When we’re threatened by the idea of someone coming into our life, it tends to be because we’re internally motivated – we do what we do when we do it and that’s how we like it. OR because we’re externally motivated by something other than the relationship, which might be challenged by the relationship. i.e. less time for videogames if we have a partner.
And that’s how we end up avoidant, overly independent, unpersonable (un-person-able).
It’s, again, dog training. It’s just reward. But it’s negative reinforcement.
We learn to love the THING THAT PLAGUES US – the relationship or our own patterns within the relationship - GOING AWAY. Negative reinforcement; the removal of something unpleasant. And that is what we’re motivated towards when we’re avoidant.
Anxious behavior is ruled by positive reinforcement
Avoidant behavior is ruled by negative reinforcement
So, when you notice yourself tipping towards anxious, as I’ve described… consider the opposite, instead. The negative reinforcement of that anxiety tailspin being removed. The relief of not feeling like your mind has been overtaken. The good things about your life when it’s under your control. When you’re motivated by yourself, not the idea of someone else.
If this is a lifelong pattern, think of the benefit of not relating the way that you’ve always related. Not being tormented by attempts at love. What a nice experience that would be.
…
But – big note:
Instead of completely overcompensating and flipping into real avoidance (another way of annoyingly never getting what you want or need) – never getting close to anyone again - try to imbue your attempts at relationship with the energy of being relieved when you’re left alone, unbothered by them. Enjoying the life you’ve made. Being calm and peaceful within yourself. Finding the joy in being alone for the simplicity of it.
AKA. Try to mix them.
Take the relationship anxiety, add some wise avoidance. Seek some balance between the two. Blend some gray tones.
And let that feeling guide the way that you continue trying to find love. A healthy level of attachment, in which you’re excited and interested in what happens in material reality – but you don’t lose your mind control or personhood.
With the ultimate benefit being? That when a dating attempt doesn’t work out, you’ve already prepared yourself for positive feelings on the other side. You’ve maintained a mindset of separateness and an awareness of who you are and what life feels like without them, via imagining it routinely. Via living through it, routinely. You won’t be as blindsided. emotionally or behaviorally unprepared. Because you didn’t give your whole life over to this other individual. Your whole capacity for happiness.
Your whole dope factory.
Makes sense?
Wrap
So pulling this together.
In a time when things are uncertain… when we’re reaching for a sense of certainty and stability… when it’s been a generational trend to cut ties with each other for emotional safety, and now we also have impersonal threats to worry about…
In a period when we would benefit from having family. From having community. But have been scattered to the wind by the internet and obstinance in response to the education it has given some of us…
Isn’t it more likely that we start seeking support more and more from family stand ins?
From individuals that the mind responds to similarly to family care memories?
But. We don’t need to do that in real life. And generally don’t want to. Our relationships heftily begin online.
And what happens when we meet online?
We talk online.
We look at each other online.
We make up elaborate fantasies that serve as our primary relationship experience because compared to spending time together, we can spend infinitely more of it… online.
Online we don’t have full modalities of attraction to assess our interest. Our mind sees some things it likes and assumes the rest of the characteristics will be matching. Redundantly attractive.
We still have the same “close enough, different enough” pattern of, at a certain threshold, having enough similarities to also mean we have enough different to be interested.
And also… reminded of people we know intimately. Our family members. Our past types.
Thanks to this, we mentalize. We believe that we know them. That we understand them.
We’re motivated to know them. We’re socially swayed. We feel for them, saliently, because we’re actually feeling for other people who are close enough.
We believe that the feelings are attributed to this new human option because we’ve thought the thoughts before. When we sign up for a dating app or agree to go on a date, we’ve already played out the potential success in our mind. When life is otherwise void of successes and some signs of achievement appear, confirmation bias makes it appear especially true.
And they might appear to be different. Or the same. As always. Not your type or carrying the exact persona – the rep – that signifies safety and possibilities. Self-enhancement at the end of the world.
All of this takes place on the phone. Through third party mediums distinct from life. Creating a false, secondary, life. One that we love to return to, because it holds all our positive feeling potential. One that we have more interaction with than the real relationship, even if that partnership is very much underway. One that holds all our pots of gold. All the hopes and dreams and anticipations; the safety and the flourishing that we’re all trying to grab.
So that we won’t realize who we’re relating with or what the potential of our future is until it’s too late.
The phone-imaginary relationship obfuscates the real relationship.
And we might not notice we’re dissatisfied until we’re lying flat. Unsure why it’s worth trying anymore. Not even this relationship that was once a joy production line is doing the job.
And we blame the relationship. And every relationship. Every member of our “type” and our own penchant for having one.
Instead of seeing the bigger pattern.
A life without genuine reward opportunities. Without real satisfaction. Without real connection. Without real feelings built on slow, earned, successes…
Is the cage we’ve been placed in.
Relationships aren’t the problem, the people we choose aren’t the problem, and either are we…. when we’re dating and relating in dystopia.
The mind’s rightful reactions to the dystopic conditions are.
Which means the dystopic conditions are.
Don’t be hard on yourself for any doping behaviors you’ve been self-supporting with. And figure that the rest of the dating pool is probably doing the same. Which might help to explain some of the weird attraction and attachment causing you to feel like a wrecking ball, swinging from rapidly appearing and vanishing dope strings.
As you keep valiantly DATING IN DYSTOPIA.