The unexamined life is not worth living!
-Socrates
What a statement, what an observation especially in that time, A few thousand years ago. One would think that by now, examining yourself would be normal and celebrated. It’s not though, As a twelve stepper I sometimes think “Examining life is so draining!” which it can be. So is exercise, working, thinking, building, and living. The harder you do any of those things, the bigger the reward you may see. Sometimes quickly. The problem with the examined life is that you have no escape. What you fear the most is right before you, inside you, it is you. When you are uncomfortable on your grandma’s couch, that thick synthetic rope tubing digging into your hamstring, the faux leather collecting puddles of sweat, the doylies, and smell of dust; you can change your situation. The discomfort is external.
What if I am the discomfort? When you are the thing that is causing your discomfort, if you’re anything like me, you numb. Numbing can take on several forms. I run to numb, I run physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I ran like A Flock of Seagulls (1982). I ran physically through extreme sports, which required extreme exercise routines in support of said sports, and dangerous physical stunts for attention. Emotionally I ran using comedy deflecting anything that caused any emotional discomfort, whether it be a person, place, or thing. Spiritually I would run using alcohol or drugs. Weed being the main drug. Many people think weed is harmless, but it can slowly take over your private life. Uncomfortable with things beneath the surface? The person you see, who you are, what are you, or what you do for a living.
Through ups and downs I did things to avoid looking at myself. Living in the fast lane doesn’t necessarily have to do with substance abuse, you can be the substance of that abuse. Self-abuse can at times look healthy. I for example, got a huge rush out of contact sports. I had so much anxiety from growing up in unstable and temporary environments I never had a sense of emotional comfort. I thrived in the chaos of contact sports; no space for emotional comfort there, and it gave all my anxiety a channel for my rage. The harder I worked out the more anxiety I worked out, so I seemed calm. I was just getting stronger to dish out more pain in the game. I looked very healthy, but inside I was alone, lost, and scared. I was a young child in a monster’s body, and I often used my form and function to intimidate people when I was feeling threatened inside, insecure. People around me celebrated this bravado giving way to false pride, false honor, false courage.
This carried me for a while, until I got to college. I wanted to study art, but I bowed to cultural pressures and majored in something else for a lucrative career. I was unhappy and lost. I wasn’t in sports anymore, so I found a way to spiritually run, and that was weed. I used weed to chase away all that indecent worrying about what I should be doing with myself, my time, my talents, and I just sat there instead high, and numb, wondering about it. I would wonder about what I should be doing until it was too late to get it done, then just smoke and chill more. I thought I was being Socratic, but I was just a tick on the ass of my aspirations and going nowhere. A friend told me to get help. I loved her so much, I listened. Getting help wasn’t easy, growing was anything but easy. I’m still in the process almost 10yrs later. It’s not easy, but damn it’s rewarding, and I can agree with Socrates.
