Alien-Nation, Part 2: Breaking The Habit Of YOU

Ever stopped to wonder if you’re doing what you’re doing because it’s what you did yesterday (and the day before that, and the day before THAT)?  What percentage of the way you interact with the world is your conscious choice, rather than your programming?  

Some would say we are the sum of our habits, and Keith Clarke is one of those people.  His blog Breaking The Habit of Me challenges us to take back the reigns.  When Keith sat down to read my recent post Living in Alien-Nation, he decided his Representative was no longer going to run his life.  He didn’t just click a link in Google Reader, peruse an article, and go back to doing exactly what he has always done.  Keith instead chose to switch off the auto-pilot and wrangle with some serious questions in today’s guest post.  What have YOU lost by not showing up in your own life?  I hope you’ll join the conversation:

Scared To Reveal The True You? 

12 Reasons To Take Charge Of Your Representative

I read two articles that have had a massive impact on me. And I wondered - could they have a similar impact on you?

I believe that these two articles outline a serious flaw in the thinking habits of many of us. This thinking comes from a fear of being our true selves because of the possibility of rejection by others.

I know you are busy and I am asking you more than maybe I should, but these are profoundly powerful insights that you should hear.

You need to read the two articles first or what follows will have no context

The articles are Living In Alien Nation and My Representative.

My response:

(I have written this as a response to the author, and it should be read in that context.)

I resonate so much with what you are saying but it freaks me out - in a good and a bad way. Firstly, whatever I say following this sentence is NOT meant to be patronizing (THAT is my representative speaking for me).

I have spent my whole life in this place. 

That is why your two articles hit me so hard. Firstly, you are in no way alone [Note from my Representative: Remember earlier caveat]. Regrettably, I see this in many people, including myself.

1.     Ulterior Motives

Every one of us has them, and they are not always nefarious. For example: Am I going to feel better about myself? Gain something from this? Look good in someone’s eyes?  Etc. You included. We are human. We need validation. What is f#%ked up is we don't look for our own validation first (or, we don't trust it).

2.     Personal Dysfunction or Societal Dysfunction?

It doesn't matter! You are self-aware enough to know the 'dysfunction' is there. That is evident. Whether you like it or not, it is up to you now. The door is already open. And yes, you are happy about it now, because it is the comfort of the known. It is the unknown that scares you.

3.     Rejection

Every rejection you received externally was firstly an internal rejection that you just sought validation of externally. You expressed yourself perfectly with: "We all have this dichotomy; it’s the human condition (though of course we are convinced otherwise).  What’s even worse than being unacceptable to others…is being ashamed of your own feelings, and the mask you hide behind." So I know you know this, but bear with me :)

4.     Our Representative

What we hate most is that they are good at their jobs. And that disgusts us. We have this twisted admiration for them and hate them at the same time. Why? Because the better our representative is, the less we are ourselves. The name of my representative is Keith. He currently has more entitlement to my name than I do because he has been stronger and more in control than I ever have up to now!

5.     Being Fake

Every time we feel we are being fake (and we know when this is) our representative gets stronger. Every time they get stronger we feel safer behind them. It is a downward spiral that the "I" needs to break before we become lost and end up inserting ourselves back fully into the Matrix. Sorry if the reference is too 'geeky,' but it is the most fitting I can find.

6.     Trust

I have never truly been able to trust anyone, because I can't trust myself. I know this. As you said, I know my own M.O. now. This is merely awareness, however. It truly has to translate into action before it becomes useful. And most action  - I am coming to learn - takes risk.

7.     A Representative is NOT a Bad Thing

We do have to remember, though, that the Representative works for us. And we call the shots. What has happened with me is I have let the Representative become the leading entity. The creator of my identity. From now on, he’s allowed to advise, but I need to make the final decision on how he portrays me. And not how he portrays him.

8.     Perceived Threats

The threats we feel every day are part of our spiritual journey, and our growth. Or else they are just another way of giving unilateral power to our Representative. But it is up to us.

9.     Is Our Representative Truly Representing Us?

For some time the Gandhi quote, “One man cannot do right in one department of life whilst he is occupied in doing wrong in any other departments. Life is one indivisible whole” has kept coming into my head. This is where the 'representative' f#%ks us up! We get caught up in being good at what we are doing, rather than being good at who we are. Yes, our Representative can do stuff that we can't. But do we like what they are doing? Have we sanctioned it from the core of who we are?

10.  Dissociation

I think we all use dissociation as a defense mechanism. I don't believe that this is a bad thing in and of itself. There are times when it is critical to our survival through periods of serious trauma. It enables us to get through, function and survive. But if it becomes a habit, and distances us too far from who we truly are, then I think we are more dangerous with our representatives than we are without them. Every heinous act in the world by a human being - I believe - is founded on the strength of that dissociation. It is a way of finding validation in something other than ourselves that gives us some kind of respite from our own fears. From our own self-doubts and self-recriminations.

11.  Reality as Illusion

There are many religions that talk of the illusion of reality. And it is possible to adopt that perspective through periods of our life where it works for us. But I think the universe, the natural laws or way of things has a way of bringing us constantly back to ourselves. We cannot avoid ourselves. We have to be faced. And we have to embrace our dark side as well as our good. We have to accept the whole. Only on that acceptance, of the good and bad in us, can we see what really is illusory in our lives.

12.  Accepting Ourselves

I thought long and hard about whether to start blogging under my real name, or to go anonymous, or use a pseudonym. In the end, I chose to come clean. This in no way is a judgment on you (and I understand your personal reasons for this). I decided to take the risk and crawl out of my cage (against the advice of my representative). In fact, this comment is probably more soul-baring than any of my posts so far (and I can hear my representative screaming in protest). But, if I am to let go, and to be me, then I need to push the boundaries. To shake things up (as Vishnu says).

Your final line is probably the most hard-hitting:

"What it tells me is that ‘I’ feel soooo unsafe in the world that ‘I’ can't bear to show up."

I don't know about you, but I am tired of this. Are you with me?

[Note from my Representative: Please do not take any of the comments above personally. These are the expressions of my client at this moment in time - and I am concerned at this time for his well being and understanding of how to play the game that every sane person 'should' be playing based on society's rules]

Thank you for a deeply personally inspiring couple of posts (that is ME speaking).

**

So, there you go. This article started out as a comment that has actually turned into a guest post.

(Thanks Bri for the opportunity to write for your inspiring blog)

  

Some questions for you now: Do you show up? Do you have a Representative running the show? Where are YOU in all of this? And how is that working for you?

My Representative

As I was writing a guest post for The Unlost 2 weeks ago, the irony of ME writing about Alien-Nation smacked me in the face.  Why’s that?

My number one pet peeve: Fake-a** people.
My number one flaw: Not being my real self the majority of the time. 

A tad contradictory.  There’s the me who writes this (anonymous) blog, the me I send to work, the me who interacts with friends or family, and the me I am when I’m alone. Soooo….which me is the real me?  Any?!  All????  Won’t the real me PLEASE stand up…

Instead of being who I actually AM, I instead feel everyone else out to see who I’m dealing with.  Then, if anyone can pass my CRAZILY-high-standards-of-sincerity-test, I consider the possibility that I might not have to hide so much in front of this person.  Not right away, mind you (no chance of that), but WAAAAYYY down the line, after they have convinced me over and over that they aren’t harboring ulterior motives.  I pretend my little “screening process” is some sort of guarantee that said person won’t end up screwing me over.  And it doesn’t escape me that I’m requiring far more authenticity from others than I am offering of myself. 

In some ways this is a commentary on my personal dysfunction, which I happily (happily?) own, but moreso it’s a commentary on our society’s dysfunction.  Because I didn’t get this way by accident.  Time and again, people showed me – in a hundred thousand ways, big and small – that my REAL self wasn’t welcome at the party.  That I was TOO serious-idealistic-intense-sarcastic-fill-in-the-blank.That I was insufficiently cool-mainstream-status-quo-upholding.  That something about me (namely…..ME) was unacceptable, and I was going to be punished if I didn’t cover it up.  You step one foot outside that box, and they will chop that f**ker right off.

And so, in order to even think about how I could not feel estranged from others, I have to get my head around how I became alienated from mySELF.  From the parts of myself that I disown, not just in the company of others, but in the privacy of my own being…the not-me that I, myself, reject.  We all have this dichotomy; it’s the human condition (though of course we are convinced otherwise).  What’s even worse than being unacceptable to others…is being ashamed of your own feelings, and the mask you hide behind.  

But I think I finally figured out my M.O.

How I operate in life is "I" send my representative out to talk for me.  For demonstration's sake, let's call her Hobag, cuz I do hate the bitch, after all (plus, it’s just plain fun to say the word hobag).  Hobag is fake-me, whereas "I" am real-me.  

As words come out of my mouth, I occasionally find myself asking, WHO is this talking?  It doesn't sound like me.  Do I sound fake as fu*k?  Cuz I sure FEEL fake as fu*k.  

That's the best way I can describe what it’s like...as though I'm looking through a window into the world - out there - while "I" stay hidden deep inside.   I have thus solved the mystery of our Alien-Nation, for if I am disconnected from my SELF, how could I possibly feel connected to another human being?  How do I know that when I sit down with you, you're not sending your own hobag out to greet me?  It’s doubtful I’m ever talking to you at all!  Rather, MY representative is chatting it up with YOUR representative.  

And so, in every instance where I feel threatened for some reason or another (loosely translated: every social encounter I have), out she goes.  Public speaking?  Get out there, Hobag.  Scary group situation?  Hobag.  Work consultation?  Ho.  Chat with my friend?  Sadly, probably her, too.  The nice thing about her is that she can do stuff “I” can’t.

In complex psychological terms, the depersonalization of “feeling detached from, and as if one is an outside observer of, one's mental processes or body” falls under dissociation.  Whether we're daydreaming our workday away, numbing ourselves to deaden the emotions we don't dare allow to come out, or all-out fragmenting parts of ourselves, we all use this defense mechanism at some level.  

What it tells me is that "I" feel soooo unsafe in the world that "I" can't bear to show up.

I form words, and I hear them coming out of my lips, but I don't feel like I'm really -there- saying them.  

Sort of like I'm sitting off in the corner watching the encounter take place.  Despite the fact that I've become increasingly cognizant of the phenomenon, "I" don't seem able to shut Hobag up long enough for my real self to come out.  

So here I am, a splintered human being, unable to assimilate all these different personas I’ve created just to get through life.  Our individual lack of integration is causing complete societal disintegration. 

Do you have a representative (and what’s his/her name)?
Leave a comment or e-mail me:  downfromtheledge at yahoo dot com

Check out the follow-up post:
Alien-Nation, Part 2: Breaking the Habit of YOU

Follow Bri on Facebook.

Living in Alien-Nation

Guest post at The Unlost today: Living in Alien Nation: The Disconnection of The Masses:

What are you hiding?

RIGHT NOW, in this moment, what are you shoving down inside that familiar little lockbox that no one else gets the key to?

Who are you keeping “out there,” a comfortable arm’s length away? Who’s got YOU at a safe distance, just beyond the tips of their fingers?

And I bet there’s someone you’re faking it for, too (well, not THAT kind of faking). But yeah, I’d wager there’s somebody you’re being sickeningly nice to, and it makes you want to gag. And someone you act tough around, because they sure as hell aren’t going to see you vulnerable. You probably spend half your waking hours covering up how you actually feel, speaking words that bear no resemblance to what you really think.

And so, if I don’t really know who YOU are, and you don’t get to know who I am, you might as well be a friggin’ alien to me. We’re a whole nation of aliens, covering it all up, putting on the act for each other even whilst despising it.

It’s not really that I feel compelled to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets to everyone, but moreso the relentless pressure to hide them in favor of discussing things like The Bachelorette’s choice of goobers. Never do I feel quite so alienated as after I’ve been out with friends.

“I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away— yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth’s orbit ——————————— and wanted to shoot myself.“

– The Journals of Søren Kierkegaard, 1836

If that quote hits you at ALL, you understand what I’m getting at. We go out and live it up with our friends, our smiles the very picture of connectedness, and yet we couldn’t be farther away from each other. We get back in our cars to drive home and, sh*t! There it is again, the utter alone-ness, the isolation that was supposed to have dissolved in the cocoon of camaraderie.

We feel unseen, and therefore unknown. We wanted so much more, and got so much less. We probably wouldn’t know how to construct a different experience if we tried, because the real, genuine us is buried too far beneath the appearances we must keep up.

We are the generation with 742 Facebook friends, 350 Twitter followers, 4 people who may or may not respond to an e-mail, 2 friends we grudgingly phone once in a while….and not even 1 damn person we’d dial at 3am when we’re on the bathroom floor asking the empty air why we feel so alone, so terrified, so lost.

Therese described this insane asylum we live in “where we all feel as if we’re the only ones struggling, as if we’re the only ones living a silent lie and plastering on a fake smile for the world to see,” and I can’t think of a more accurate description for it.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if we were just hiding the petty stuff. But the truth is, we’re hiding despair. And fear. “And it’s killing us all.”

Sounds like an exaggeration…but it’s not. People die of alienation. I almost did.

So, start by being more real than you were yesterday. Keep up with what’s really going on with your friends, instead of the Kardashians. Quit telling everyone you’re fine, and start telling them you can’t fake it anymore. Maybe they can’t, either.

“Tell your truth. You never know who you’ll set free.”

Check out these follow-up posts: "My Representative"
& "AlienNation, Part 2: Breaking the Habit of YOU."

Have your own story?  E-mail me: downfromtheledge at yahoo dot com

Suicide: What’s It About?

I mean, fundamentally, what does it come down to?

Sometimes I think suicide is about pain.  The too much, never-ending, all-encompassing pain of existence.  The kind that wrenches you from the inside out. 

Or it could be escape.  Maybe we just need a way out when we’re out of options.  Sometimes all the options suck, and it’s truly the lesser of the evils.  Sometimes we’re too paralyzed with indecision to even*pick* an option.  Or there are so many options we don’t want the responsibility of being forced to choose one, and then live with the consequences. 

What about love?  Maybe it’s a lack of love.  Love from others.  From family.  Love for our own self.  Like Matchbox Twenty, “I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved ... by a hand that’s touched me.”  And I feel like something should have given by now.  And I’m more than a little bit angry.  I spent seven years in a relationship that was more dysfunction than love.  It wasted my time, my life, my .... goodness?  The part of me that believed in the grander meaning of love, the goodness of people; not the fairytale ending, mind you: I’ve never bought into that.  But there’s a certain kind of lasting spiritual connection to another human being I used to believe in, which got trampled along the way.

So then maybe it’s anger.  I’m so angry at the people in my past, my present, and probably my damn future that I can’t stand myself sometimes.  I’m angry at life for all the things it could be, but is not.  I’m angry either AT God or that I don’t believe in God, one of the two.

Religion, then?  A lack of faith in anything or anyone?  The fact that everything I’ve ever trusted in has left me despairing? Religion, after all, is “ultimate” in our lives, so perhaps it’s the *ultimate* disappointment, the overarching emptiness, the aching whole in life that I have no way to fill.

Other times, I think it’s about needs that will never be met.  And I’m not talking about food, shelter or water – although sometimes the mere act of trying to survive is enough to take us out – but also human needs.  Affection.  Companionship.  Trust.  Security.  Sometimes I ask myself what I will do if I never experience these things again.  If no one ever hugs me or holds me or stands by me.  More importantly, what if I never have sex again?  I’m not effing kidding here, I miss it.  What if neither the grand nor base pleasures of life come my way again; is a world without joy a place worth staying?

It might just be the struggle.  On days like today, my being wants there to be a foreseeable end to this sensation that I’m trying to run through water.  I’m tired.  I’m just sooo, soo tired of trying.  And failing.  And flailing.  And having to try again.  It feels as though, at any given moment, one more try will be too much to bear. 

Maybe it’s all these things.  Maybe it’s about being human.  Maybe it’s far more universal a concept than we’re led to believe in our shame-ridden society.  Maybe it’s the knowing that I’m not alone in all these feelings, yet being unable to connect to anyone in any profound, meaningful way.  So many things well up inside with no outlet; despair ensues. 

Alienation, then?  The outsider to life, always looking in, wondering how the others are making it?  

Tidings of (no) comfort and (lack of) joy...

It’s been a hard day. A hard week. And it’s not over yet.


2 more days of Christmas. One more week of holidays. One more year to kiss goodbye in which I didn’t “pull myself up by the bootstraps” and “get back on the horse” and “take the bull by the horns” and all those other bullsh*t anti-motivators that mysteriously haven’t rescued me from my chosen (right?) anguish.


Yeah, it’s one of those days. There’s no place to go, no book to read, no show to watch, no project to undertake ... that could sufficiently distract me from the pain that I’m feeling.


If I were a drug addict, I’d be high as a kite right now, but I’m too chickensh*t to go that hardcore.


So I sit with it.


Despair creeps in through the cracks, the same ones hope is seeping out of.


It might have something to do with the seventy-ninth (if I want to exaggerate I’ll f***ing exaggerate) job I couldn’t make it at, and the ensuing disgust with myself for adding to my quit-list this week.


It might have something to do with my refusal to participate in family events this holiday season, and my rejection of *things* in place of love.


You aren’t supposed to be weary at 30, are you? I mean, really. I’m not talking about exhaustion; that was 5 years ago when I was 25 going on 40, dead weight dragging through the days.


I’m weary of 1-being me and 2-hating me.


I’m weary of life, and the suffocating alienation of being unseen. And yet, in premise, invisibility sounds so liberating...


I’m weary of reaching out to people who don’t reach back, though I know it is my very nature to give the most to people who are incapable of giving another human being what they need.


I’m tired of people who don’t try, who don’t change, who don’t care. They drain my soul.


I’M tired of trying, of changing mySELF, of caring. It drains my soul even more.


I’m tired of the questions-
The demands-
The requirements of life-
Where will I go and what will I do and who will I be and what is the point?


Yeah. Weary.


“Tonight at the end of light
Tonight I feel lonely
I thought I heard my heart stop beating
I long for you to hold me.”





An Alli Rogers song creeps in (and I’m not even a Christian for cripes sake). 
I could go cry in the back pew of a raggedy church. 
I could thrown myself down in the aisle and scream, “Why?” to a god I don’t believe in.


I guess we all have the same questions, and the lucky ones are able to find solace in someone else’s answers.


But when there’s no comfort in faith, in friends, in family, in love ... is there any true comfort to be found at all?


Or just emptiness...