Hell Is Other People

"They generally withhold strong emotion and do not like to waste time with what they consider irrational social rituals.  This may cause non-INTJs to perceive them as distant and reserved.  In social situations INTJs may be unresponsive and may neglect small rituals designed to put others at ease.  For example INTJs may communicate that idle small talk is a waste of time.  This may create the impression that the INTJ is rude or in a hurry - an impression that is not always intended, and may not be true at all."

So I am in the process of soliciting information as I try to pivot into a somewhat new place in my life.  Obviously it's getting kind of late in the game to reinvent the wheel but tweaking the machine is an ongoing and necessary process, and all of us need to tear the thing down, make repairs, and put the thing back together from time to time.  The problem with the total rebuild is that sometimes you don't remember what part goes where.  Sometimes there are pieces so messed up that you can't put them back in.  Sometimes there is shit left over.  You tighten down the final bolt, screw in the last grommet, hammer down the last hatch before you notice a big piece of complicated circuitry with wires coming out of it lying off to the side.  

"What the fuck is that?" you think. 

"What the hell," you say, before jamming it into a cavity and then turning the ignition.  Sometimes the machine starts right up; sometimes the silence is deafening; and sometimes you throw a rod or blow a gasket.

One of the issues I have is that I spend a little too much time alone.  The facts are these: I am an introvert and people do irritate the shit out of me most of the time and I am so much more fascinating than everyone else, so why would I want to clutter up all of my precious free time with lesser mortals?

SuperK thinks that I need to pick up a hobby or engage in an activity with other people.  My therapist doesn't disagree but is of the opinion that I have a personality that is going to preclude my joining in with other people in a lighthearted, earnest fashion.  It seems to me that this isn't my style.  SuperK thinks I use the "facts" of my personality profile to justify behaving however I want.  This I find irritating, usually a good indicator that someone is getting uncomfortably close to an uncomfortable truth.  My therapist thinks that the way I behave is often an indicator of the kind of person I am at heart.

If you think a fart joke is funny then you think it's funny.  If you don't then you don't.  It isn't like you need to study up on fart jokes and then you'll get the joke.  You don't think it's funny and there's no need to try to make it funny.

Use Sarcasm Like A Weapon

"INTJs have a black belt in sarcasm and they use it to swat away stupid remarks as though they were obnoxious fruit flies.  INTJs use a very dry and subtle form of sarcasm that often swims under the radar of other people.  They have been known to do this to amuse themselves; seeing how much they can insult someone without their noticing.  When the INTJ is really irritated however they may employ a more a scathing version of this meant to inflict damage and make their disdain blatantly obvious."

I don't know - that definition seems to be a little self-congratulatory, in weird kind of way.  And I'm really starting to sound like an insufferable ass here.  But sarcastic I am.

Do Not Gossip

"Keeping up with the Jones’ is not what INTJs do and superficial subject matter, in general, holds little interest for them.  They do not want to hear about the banal arbitrary details of other people’s lives.  INTJs can hardly understand why people consume vapid tabloid fodder that has no significance in the grand scheme of existence.  There are too many substantial, productive, and meaningful things in the world to focus on and nobody knows that better than an INTJ."

My wife belongs to a couple of book clubs.  A worthy activity although one that holds as much interest to me as having a red-hot poker inserted into my vitreous humor.  I like to read but I don't care what you think of the book and I'm not interested in explaining what I think of the book to you in an unofficial venue.

My wife belongs to a couple of golf leagues - she enjoys the golfing and she enjoys the camaraderie with the other golfers, although the truth of the matter is that she does as much bitching about them as anything else.  I like to go on long hikes by myself.  I swim alone but then I sit in the hot tub and talk to the many friends I've made there, but only for 15 minutes, and then I'm ready to go.  If SuperK gets stuck in a foursome with someone she doesn't like she is burned for four hours.  If some idiot gets into the hot tub I get out.

You can see that I'm working through some contradictory impulses here.  I'm sure there is truth in all of them.

It's Actually The Yin OR The Yang

Yin and Yang:  A fundamental concept in Chinese philosophy and culture in general dating from the third century BC or even earlier.  This principle is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example female-male, dark-light and old-young. The two opposites attract and complement each other and, as their symbol illustrates, each side has at its core an element of the other (represented by the small dots).  Neither pole is superior to the other and, as an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony.

So I sat for another hour with My Therapist this week.  By the way, I hate people who talk about having a therapist.  It makes them sound like they want to sound like they're really messed up which, admittedly, many of them are. How many times have I heard someone talking and thought: "Man, you need to go see a professional."  Little did I know that they were saying the same thing about me.

Anyway, the session felt a little vague  - I didn't really have anything too pressing on my mind that I wanted to talk about.  To me that feels like I'm done so I didn't see the point of going to the meeting.  My wife disagrees, believing that sometimes you need to explore to uncover things - she approaches a computer glitch as a puzzle to be solved; I use it as a rationale for smashing the computer with a ball-peen hammer.  I'm so machine-like in my approach to life: you start, there's an efficient, logical, rational process, you have a result.  You don't set up half of a plastic injection-molding machine and then see what happens.  One is expected to follow detailed instructions to produce a bottle or a plastic grommet or a dashboard for a Corvette. 

Maybe I'm still in the planning meeting.  This is the kind of shit that should happen in the planning meeting, not forty or fifty years into the life of the plant.

Here are the facts:
My anxiety has attenuated.  I'm not looking to eliminate it - that's a fool's errand - but rather to reduce it to the annoying, unwanted, but manageable background hum which is its historical precedent.

My physical obsession comes and goes.  I'm trying to ignore the compelling desire I have to monitor how I'm feeling.  I'm asking to be released from this.  It's another manifestation of my overwhelming interest in myself.  I would characterize any progress as incremental.  I'm asking my higher power for some help and the fact that it isn't forthcoming to my satisfaction must mean I'm not learning the lesson that is there for me to learn

Goddam am I self-absorbed.

I'm ambivalent about my feelings about losing loved ones.  I'm willing to be open to how I feel, to weeping, to hearing messages from these spirits emanating from Beyond The Grave, while recognizing that I'm going to keep feeling better if I can keep moving on down the road.

I suspect that the loss that is really bothering me is the loss of my youth, the attenuation of my physical plant, the suspicion that all options are no longer on the table.  Unfortunately this is kind of vague and this is the kind of loss that all of us who aren't killed in an avalanche or bitten by a Black Mamba end up experiencing.  Death - not vague.  Free floating anxiety - vague.

So you see how I can concentrate far too much on the loss while simultaneously wandering around, oblivious, as in: "How did this happen, anyway?"  I'm hyper-aware and totally in the dark.  I don't believe in the yin and the yang.  It's the YIN, or it's the fucking YANG.  Pick one, don't waffle around in the middle; don't acknowledge that there's a little bit of the one in the other, and vice versa; don't re-balance if one becomes too strident . . . There's a winner and there's a loser and you're going to be better off if you're on the winning side.

Goddam do I hate to be on the losing side.

Being Therapied

So I'm seeing this therapist.  This means I'm "in therapy."  There is a verb here, too, although it's rarely used.  Nonetheless, I'm being therapied.

As I expected, as a sane person, I'm not all that insane.  I'm not saying I'm sane, rather than I'm only mildly insane.  I have some insane tendencies.  I offer Savings So Low They're Insane!!

Anyway, because I'm obsessed with myself I'm not floored with a lot of the conclusions that my very nice and quite excellent therapist has come up with - unless she totally sucks at what she does.  What do I know about therapy?  I pretend like I'm a illustrator or an event planner or a scrivener, and people believe it.  Maybe this woman doesn't even have a degree.  Maybe she's squatting in this office and not paying any rent.  How would I know?

Be that as it may two terms that have repeatedly come up are INTJ and Type A.  I have written at length about my INTJ tendencies and must say that I agree with a lot of the characterization. This Type A stuff is somewhat perplexing.  So I do some research and here are some conclusions from a variety of sources . . . 

Behavior pattern characterized by aggressiveness, ambitiousness, restlessness, and a strong sense of time urgency. New research suggests that it's hostile behavior and associated with increased risk for coronary heart disease.

Type A personalities are described as people who exhibit a tendency towards being ambitious, organized, impatient, status-conscious, anxious, proactive; type A personalities also put an emphasis on using time efficiently.

There are many advantages to having a type A personality.  Type A people tend to be motivated, are more likely to become leaders, and generally get a lot done.  They are usually more reliable, likely to act on their promises, arrive on time, and able to meet your needs quickly and efficiently.  People with a type A personality are also great at planning and therefore decision-making.

However there are disadvantages too.  Type A personalities tend to be associated with hostility, even in response to minor events; impatient with people who aren't as fast, competent, or efficient as them; and have big, fat egos.

Type A individuals tend to be easily aroused to anger or hostility, which they may or may not express overtly.  Such individuals tend to see the worst in others, displaying anger, envy, and a lack of compassion.

Type A individuals tend to be very competitive and self-critical.  They strive toward goals without feeling a sense of joy in their efforts or accomplishments.  

Type A individuals are easily ‘wound up’ and tend to overreact.  They also tend to have high blood pressure (hypertension).

Type A personalities experience a constant sense of urgency: Type A people seem to be in a constant struggle against the clock.  Often, they quickly become impatient with delays and unproductive time, schedule commitments too tightly, and try to do more than one thing at a time, such as reading while eating or watching television.

So there's a ton of shit in there that really describes me.  Not perfectly but there are some things in there that really hit close to the bone.  Competitive and self-critical.  Time sensitive, wow.  Impatient with The Incompetent.  The one I wish I could say I didn't have is my hostility to other people and I say this in a kind way.

My conclusion is this: if I call my wife in one more time to talk about why I am like I am she is going to fucking murder me.  If you don't hear from me for a while please call the police and tell them to look for freshly mounds of dirt behind my home.

Knitters and Shovelers

Shovel: To move materials with a shovel; to move with a shoveling motion.

Ah, the blessing and the curse of the need to Be Productive.  To produce something as the result of an effort.

Productive: Yielding good or useful results.

When I lived in the cold part of the country from time to time there would be a heavy snowfall that would temporarily paralyze the city.  It was kind of nice watching the snowflakes swirl down, coating everything in a new, lovely blanket of snow, pure white, smooth and unmarked.  We'd hunker down in the house, no need to venture out for a few days.  SuperK would absolutely love it.  "Snow Day!" she'd shout.  She'd bring out puzzle books and movies and a big basket of knitting and while away a few hours, free from the obligations that normally filled so much of her time.

I, on the other hand, would read a little, watch half a movie, then start to get restless.  I'd eye the driveway that needed shoveling.  I'd ponder the chores and errands on my to do list, aggravated at the weather that was fucking up my plans.  I'd begin to dance around the house, glaring angrily at the White Death sealing me into my tomb of unproductive misery.  I never seemed to be able to go with the flow and enjoy a few hours of enforced inactivity.

So part of this is the way I'm put together.  I HATE doing things that don't feel worthwhile to me.  I wish sometimes I wasn't like this.  I wish I could go with the flow.  I wish I could let water run off of my back something ducks can do, apparently, with no effort whats over.  I wish I could do this even though water flowing on my back can be pleasant if I'm cold and dirty and the water is hot.  I am not an easy-going, light-hearted, devil-may-care chap.  I'm a heavy, ponderous, dark shape moving through the night.  That's what I am.

In fact, I loathe people who have cheery, sunny dispositions.  I mean where do they get off with that kind of bullshit attitude?  Who the fuck do they think they are, anyway?  This is serious shit we're involved with.

Alright, gotten off track here from what I wanted to say, distracted by all of these content people suggesting that I have a nice day.  To that I say: Have a nice day elsewhere.

So here I am, a Type A individual who is retired.

Type A behavior is expressed through three major symptoms: (1) free-floating hostility, which can be triggered by even minor incidents; (2) time urgency and impatience, which causes irritation and exasperation usually described as being "short-fused"; and (3) a competitive drive, which causes stress and an achievement-driven mentality. The first of these symptoms is believed to be covert and therefore less observable, while the other two are more overt.

The trick for me at this point in my life is going to be to find things that make me feel productive.

Dry and Wry

I loved being in Wales and England - I fit in so well from a temperament standpoint .  I'm 3/4s German, 1/4 Scottish by heritage.  When we visited Germany a several years back my wife (who is 100% German) and I looked at each other after just a few hours and said: "Ah."  We saw that some of the characteristic we both possess in spades - logical, technical, brisk, efficient, steady - were well-represented in the society.  We looked like we came from Germany.  My trip to Scotland where everyone is always telling a story - I didn't believe half the stuff I was hearing - filled out the rest of my psychological resume.

We went to a meeting in Exeter in the SW of England.  The leader saw a couple of new faces and immediately tapped me to kick things off with a short monologue on Step 12.  I was happy to do this - I'm comfortable talking in front of people and it's always great to be able to take my sad, tired routine on the road, try some shit out in front of new faces.  If these folks are anything like me they're all half sick of hearing the regulars share.  Anyway, I don't filter my thoughts anymore so I shared my usual absurdist, peripheral views on recovery, dry by nature, sarcastic by choice.

These folks got it right away.  Sometimes I have to tell people I'm joking - which means I'm not being very funny - but everyone absorbed the humor organically.  SuperK didn't have to make me go apologize to anyone when I was done sharing and I watched her face carefully to see how many times she cringed.  It was a pretty low cringing count so I was sure I wasn't being too abstract.

One of the hikes we took we climbed for a while up a muddy, rocky trail - a geological feature those of us who live in the normal world would call a "creek"- that led across a sheep pasture to a concrete cairn marking the highest spot in the county.  There were two other couples up there enjoying the view across the moors in between intermittent bursts of rain.  I chatted for a while with one of the Brits and picked up on the irony right away.  He offered to take a picture of two of us in front of the marker.  I demurred, suggesting that while I would be proud to be photographed with SuperK she preferred not to be seen with me.

He looked at me: "I don't know - you're wearing sunglasses in the rain.  I'd call that pretty cool."  I laughed.  The intervals between rain, sun, and clouds came so quickly that we had quit adjusting our wardrobe to meet the conditions.  When I mocked my pubic-hair beard he called it "patrician." 

I almost had to look the word up.

If Its Italicized, Pay Attention

Some affirmations . . . 
I need to pick up some activities besides The Fellowship and exercise.
I am not going to be able to rampage physically through the world like I used to do.
"Once one reaches a certain age the body isn't going to respond the way it used to," - my doctor.  "Well, that's really not fair," - me.   "Good luck with that," - my doctor.
There's going to be a balance point where I quit talking so much, so casually about being older while accepting the fact that I'm not a youth, either.

Trip Gratitudes . . . 
My back has improved.
I am more tolerant and accepting of the damn thing.
I have added a bunch of activities and exercises that should help in the long run.
The trip showed me I can make do, I can persevere.
I can snuff a panic attack in the bud now - I can tell it to "sod off," reminding myself that I'm healthy and my back stood up just fine under a heavy load for 3 1/2 weeks.

Solution Stuff. . . 
Carry on - pay attention to the feedback but don't obsess over it.
Maybe the message is that I need to be more grateful.
Maybe the message is that it's OK to get old.

Observations . . .  More fucking observations . . . 
I think I'm afraid of getting old.  And over the last 18 months I did have the veins reconstructed in both of my legs to help mitigate two genetic blood clotting disorders that I have.  I also had a lot of work done on my teeth including an extraction which led to a sinus to oral cavity perforation (godDAM do I love writing that phrase) which required surgery serious enough that I had to be sedated (and left me with a mouth full of 20 stitches) which led to a massive infection that required 3 weeks of antibiotics to wrestle under control.  It seems to me that the low back aches were the straw that broke the camel's back.  Ed Note: the infection wasn't massive - it was more stubborn in its desire to hunker down and get comfortable in my warm, wet, dark, mucuoid cavities.

I am not good with loss.
Loss of function, loss of youth, loss of possibilities.

Facts of Seaweed . . . 
I am not happy with the same-old, same-old.  I am energized by new experiences.
Upon much deep reflection I have concluded that I don't feel bad about how I've reacted to the death of my loved ones.  I don't feel like I'm way off base.  I'm not an overly emotional man and I'm never going to skip and jump through life, weeping at the drop of a hat, a big smile on my face.  I'm a serious dude, thoughtful, vaguely anxious, so things are going to affect me more deeply than others.  But I DO need to heed the suggestions and observations of wiser people than me who have remarked on the facts - or lack of - in my grieving process.

Thinking . . . Thinking . . . Thinking

Sort of a compilation of what I've been noodling the last month or so, for better or worse. . . . 

I release my anxiety into the universe.
This is my anxiety - it is not the anxiety.  It is part of me.  It has a message that it wants me to hear - it isn't trying to punish me or torment me.  It simply wants to be heard.
I'm not angry at it or afraid of it and I'm not trying to make it go away.  
I can sit quietly with it.

Kenner, mom, dad. . . 
I love them and I miss them and I thank them for all that they did to make me the person that I am today.
I'm not going to forget them but I do want to release them a little bit.
I'm open to grieving or weeping in whatever form that takes.

I ask that the overwhelming focus that I have on my health be removed from me.
I ask that my back continue to heal if it is your will - but what I really ask for is a release from the anxiety.
I've had so little pain in my life.
I would like to concentrate on the 95% of me that feels great, not the 5% that is problematic.

Up the pain threshold.
I've made the decision to lead an active life.

I think the coffee and sugar need to go.  I'd like to recommit to having a nice, healthy focus on my life.

Ah, yes, the Gratitude List . . . 
I'm healthy.
My spouse is healthy.
I have a good marriage.
I have good if distant relationships with my family.
I have so many friends.
I live in a nice house in a great city in the most beautiful state in the US of A.
I have two very, very nice cars - one of them a dream car.
I have money in the bank.

THAT is a lot of good shit right there - why can't I concentrate on that?

Kill The Routine

Routine: A regular set of procedures, often performed mechanically.

Back from Wales where it rains a lot. 

The best thing about travel is that it opens your eyes to new things, makes you - no, forces you - into new experiences.  It's awfully easy for me to get caught up in routines which are so routine I can do them without paying very much attention to what's going on.  This allows my mind - my worst enemy - to cast about restlessly looking for whatever awfulness it can find, and my mind can find a lot of awful.

It was a good trip.  I was glad to get away.  I was forced to make the best of everything - something you'd think I'd want to do most of the time anyway.  There was so much to see and so many places to go that I just simply couldn't waste time worrying about bullshit.

It's good to be home.