Remembering the Process.

One of the nice things about befriending someone new is that you get to rehash various stories from your life. Candi’s heard them all. And with my terrible memory, I typically forget that I’ve told her, so she ends up hearing them at least twice. With Elissa, I’ve been going through and finding various relevant things for her to read. In part because I think she’ll relate, in part to understand me. Actually, I made her read almost all of my BIGGAYDAN stories. I haven’t read them myself in years, and they’re fucking hilarious. Oh my god, despite how poorly written and juvenile they are, I’m sitting here laughing out loud at things I, myself, have written. Isn’t that awesome?

In truth, there are very few entries that really capture me other than my manifestos, which I wisely created to distill words of wisdom to my future self. The vast majority of my entries are part of the greater process, and it’s really hard to understand the context without knowing the rest. It’s great to know how far I’ve come. But I feel like part of me has inadvertently retconned my personal history in my head. In my head, it’s as if I was reborn after Paige and suddenly I was The One, and did nothing but progress. And I did progress. But to imply that I was never unhappy is far from the truth. Especially in the first year or two, there are many entries expressing frustration with not being happy.

It’s a process. I hate the term journey, but it is. It is an epic quest which never ends, ever.

There’s something else. I always wished that I had done this “all on my own”. Not without friends, but without… a girl. The fact is, I never reached this level of stability until I met Candi. And it’s not like she sat down and fixed me, not in the slightest. We never had any “This is what you need to do” conversations. No, all we’ve done for each other is love each other and show support. It’s such a simple thing, but having that kind of stability goes a long way towards genuine emotional stability.

And, also hate to say it, I don’t recall having a genuine bad day since we moved in. Oh sure, some evenings we’re kind of “I’m boooorrrreeeeddd” or feel a little stagnant. But bad mood like I used to have? Not in the slightest. I always knew getting out of my previous environment would be best. After all, nobody wants to be thirty and living with their dad. (Hey, I’m 29! I did it! I moved out before 30! Har har.)

It’s so simple, but part of the reason I haven’t felt the need to write is because of how happy I’ve been. It’s not a manic happiness, though I sure do have my moments. If anything, I feel focused. So utterly focused on my goals and ensuring I’m doing enough to reach them. This is Timmy Determined. Finally, FINALLY, all the white noise in my consciousness has faded enough for me to harness what I’m capable of. (Well, nevermind how I dealt with the white noise during the Fall 2011 semester.) Or perhaps I’ve found a way to block out or rise above the white noise.

Do you know how fucking determined I am to finish school? Oh my fucking god, this has taken so long. I knew once I picked a direction and went, I would follow through. Three semesters at county to get back up to speed in my math courses. (Well, not counting the summer course.) Almost a year at montclair down, and so quickly one year left. Next semester I’m going to have to take five classes while working two jobs. (Two jobs sounds so much fancier than “working reduced hours at my day job while picking up a few hours doing an easy job of tutoring on campus”.) I would have been so intimidated if I told myself I’d be doing something like this. It took a long time to get the trauma of Rutgers behind me. Who remembers Spring 2004, when I failed all my classes? I just couldn’t handle the stress and collapsed. In the battle of fight or flight, I ran, and shut down.

In a way, it’s like harnessing my inner anger. What, a large intimidating task? FUCK YOU, LET’S PARSE THIS INTO MANAGEABLE BITS AND ATTACK. So nice using my anger for productive purposes, as opposed to how I used to beat myself up. I wonder how much of my confidence has been a result of being a manager. I was promoted just before I met Candi. And as I said, I don’t doubt having someone love me has made a difference, I wonder if being in a position of authority and responsibility has built my self-esteem. You HAVE to believe you can deal with anything. Period. You have to believe in your ability to improvise. You have to show you’re capable of doing anything else does just as good or better.

What? I am good at everything! Pride is a good thing! Building yourself up doesn’t mean tearing anybody down.

I don’t recall seriously exploring this possibility, though there isn’t much else to say. You walk in every day knowing others are looking to you for strength. And while some of my minions over the years have been minimally exceptional, most people can tell when there isn’t that genuine confidence. Fake it until you make it? I don’t know how much you can fake it. I remember one assistant manager we had. We could all tell how frazzled she got, and that lack of confidence in herself translated into a crew that didn’t trust her. I always had to keep an eye on her and pick up the slack when she wavered.

One does not become Captain without being a Lieutenant first. Well, unless you’re JJ Abrams.

And I’ve lost my train of thought. UNTIL NEXT TIME, GADGET.