This Isn't Fulfilling Anymore

     This isn't fulfilling anymore.

     How counter-productive idolatry is: We idolize control because we feel out of control, then we end up destroying everything with our human hands. Most of the time I do the exact thing I do not want to do. When I consider going on a diet--I binge eat. When I consider severing toxic relationships, I try to fix them in unhealthy ways. When I want to do better in school I become a perfectionist and begin procrastinating because nothing is "good enough."
     All-or-nothing thinking prevails.

     "I broke my diet..."
     "I looked at porn today..."
     "I broke my social media fast..."
     "I had a cigarette..."
     "I dinged out on my significant other..."

                                                                     

"...so I might as well keep going."

     I recently began studying habit formation. In short: Habits cannot be changed through the "re-gaining"of self-control. This is a misunderstanding in our culture. This is why Americans are generally hyper-focussed on medication as opposed to addressing the internal roots of any issue: We have been made helpless by lies telling us it is our fault. In reality, habits are formed by reoccurring reinforcers. Our brains naturally jump to identifying X with pleasure even if X did not provide pleasure at all. *Note Pavlov's dog experiment. The bell rings--we salivate. The "habit-center" of our brain is so engrained in us most of the time we don't realize we've heard the bell or that we are salivating. If we can learn what triggers our unhealthy ache for: Food, sex, alcohol, nicotine...we can begin peeling layers back on the onion. We start to see our triggers in broad daylight and call them out:

 "Oh, that's why I have an insatiable desire for a Bobbie's Dairy Dip XL everything with every topping including sardines covered in chocolate syrup."

I don't really want or need that.

You don't really want or need that. 

We don't really want or need that. 

 What do we need?

"Well, it's sure as hell not Facebook..."

 I told one of my friends last week. 

 I love to use the whole artist's excuse: "This is how I get my work out there." The reality is, there were artists that got their work out there before social media. Granted, newspaper publications are going under left and right, and let's face it: Everyone in our generation is out to steal everything, and access it somewhere free on the internet. But there once was a way. Upon this realization I was startled for a moment at how unsettled that reality made me feel. I questioned my love for my craft because I have no work-ethic to bolster it. Then I began to realize: I think most people my age are that way. How can I say I really love my art if I can't sit alone in silence with it?

 I used to write poetry in journals that no one would ever read just because it was raining, or Sunday, or because it sounded good to the sound of John Mayer's "Heavier Things". Now, everyone has to know my every thought or I am not relevant. If no one knows I am doing the laundry, washing my dog, drinking a Big Gulp, getting a pedicure, or building up for a 5K...then I'm not doing any of those things. There is no proof. 

 I once sought no validation in my craft. I would paint because I liked the way the acrylic felt in my nail beds. I did not need you to tell me you liked my blog--nor would I feel successful or defeated if it didn't get a certain amount of "hits." As Levi the Poet says:

"I used to do this for nothing

And no one."

 But you know, maybe my reality is better than that: I used to do this...for Jade. I used to not do X, Y, Z for my safety, sanity, and self-preservation. 

 Most children naturally know not to damage themselves. I do not know why adult brains cannot comprehend this logic. 

 Last night, I walked out into the rain. I felt it on my skin for the first time in years. It smelled like cedar and pine. I was human in it. 

 I want to feel the pain of stubbing my toe, and not record a picture of my swollen wound on Instagram. I want to feel the threads against my bare legs of the embroidered chairs around my kitchen table--entirely present. I want to have a conversation that doesn't reference social media political drama: "Well she said ****...then I said ****!" I want to listen to the sound of my little washer and drier rattling, the hum of the air conditioner, the tick of a clock, the sound of the neighbor bustling next door. I want to close my eyes and taste fresh, crisp, red-bell pepper slices as if there is nothing in the world more important. I want to feel the debilitating pain of not going back and using him up like an affirmation junkie. I want to sit alone and cry about it because...I have not cried in so long. 

  I wonder what the world would be like if we did not have all these distractions. Would we cry more? Would we be forced to change?
 Americans are interesting.
 Department stores are now open on national holidays because small distractions can no longer keep our stirring hearts at bay for over 12 hours. TV is not enough. iPads, iPods, MacBooks, tablets, Xboxes, PlayStations, DVR...nothing is enough to feed our void.
 I know what you're thinking:

 "But to sit with my crazy aunt Martha is painful!"
Well yeah, it's painful.
It is a relationship!
Welcome to humanity! 

 Our dysfunctional families are symptomatic endless toxic buildup that we have successfully ignored for years. 

   Congratulations!
You've been on autopilot for 20 years.
Maybe now that you're confined to your family:
The faces of heart-disease, cancer, depression, anxiety, ADHD, addiction, abuse spiritual oppression...

you will choose to talk about it instead of blurring it out with a game of golf.

   The discomfort of being startled awake by a holiday in with family is revelatory of what I believe our nation would look like if every store closed it's doors, all technology ceased to function for a moment, and we had to sit and just take a rest. We'd probably start working through our baggage--cleaning out our old, dusty, suitcases and finally filing it away. We'd probably never need therapy again because we would be challenged to make it work. We'd be forced to fight it out...to sit, to wonder...and perhaps: Begin to dream again. 

  Fast food. Facebook. False Validation. Caffeine Fixes. Hair Treatments. Crash Diets. 1-800 Numbers. Acne Medications. Lip Injections. Mind-Numbing Netflix Binges. 

  This is not 

  Fulfilling 

  Anymore.