The Ramblings Of A Mad Man
A World of His Own
More often than not, my mind’s clock is out of sync with my body’s clock. My body says it’s ready for some much-needed sleep. However, my mind says it has some stuff that needs further contemplation. Not surprisingly, my mind is seldom concerned about the time of day or night. He’s just as content mulling stuff over in the middle of the afternoon as he is mulling stuff over in the middle of the night. Below are just a few of the many ramblings my mind has been mulling over. Not just once, not just twice. Without a doubt, more often than I can count.
Ramblings Defined
According to the online version of the Merriam-Webster dictionary, rambling is “proceeding without a specific goal, purpose, or direction.” No argument, I do indeed have a tendency to ramble on a regular basis. That said, I like to think that I tend to elevate rambling to an art form.
Truth be known, the below ramblings can all be linked together into one cohesive entity. For those minds wired similarly to mine, I suspect that the following convoluted meanderings make perfect sense. To those minds that find themselves feeling a bit numb, consider what follows as a work in progress. After all, since I first began this journey, I have made no less than a dozen edits. I suspect that there very well may be a dozen or two more to be made.
Incidentally, per Google, “Mad is a versatile word with multiple meanings, primarily relating to state of mind and strong emotions. It can describe someone mentally disturbed, enraged, or even intensely enthusiastic. It can also be used to describe something unwise or extremely foolish.” Undoubtedly, over the years, my madness has probably checked all those boxes. And probably a couple more Google failed to mention.
False Assumptions – Part 1
The Dark Side of the Moon album was released in 1973 by the English rock group, Pink Floyd. Whereupon Abbey Road doorman, Gerry O’Driscoll spoke the profound lines, “I have always been mad, I know I’ve been mad…” The entire concept album dealt with the mental illness that plagued former band member Syd Barrett. It’s an album that has resonated with me for a really long time. Especially whenever I find myself on the dark side.
There is a reason why people, especially us boomers, plagued with a mental illness or suicidal thoughts don’t tell anyone. To openly admit to anyone, perhaps even to themselves, that they have such an ailment is a sign of weakness. Certainly an admission to failure. Likewise, recognition that they are broken.
Additionally, textbook encouragements are of little help. Google has already provided those answers, judgement free. And of course, there will always be those that will simply say, “Suck it up, be a man.” As if you haven’t already told yourself similar admonitions more times than you can count.
Now, I am not suggesting for a moment that I have a mental illness or suicidal tendencies. I will, however, concede that I am in a dark place. A dark place eerily similar to where I find myself on an all too frequent basis. That said, I have always believed, however I feel, I am not the only one. I am as sure as I can be. There are far too many souls moving about, from day to day, in a similar dark place. We have simply learned to mask our weaknesses and our failures to the casual scrutiny.
False Assumptions – Part 2
As we look for a light, even the faintest of lights, one will surely, eventually appear. Often times, in the simplest of forms. A passing glance, a friendly smile, a gentle touch. In desperation each takes on a meaning far beyond their original intent. Without question, far beyond what their provider every anticipated.
Such solutions are hollow, one-sided at best, and serve as little more than a temporary reprieve. Further darkness lies in wait as one gropes about for an easy fix to a seemingly unfixable problem. Consequently, the person offering the passing glance, the friendly smile, the gentle touch, is now the recipient of unintended consequences. After all a passing glance is a passing glance and nothing more. A friendly smile is a friendly smile and nothing more. Likewise, a gentle touch is a gentle touch and nothing more.
And let’s not forget the all-consuming shame one feels for foolishly, stupidly misinterpreting those innocent gestures. The overwhelming need to be needed and the false euphoria that fogs our head and our heart. Thereupon, causing us to leap to assumptions that only exist in our minds.
A Promise Never Broken
In some respects, I consider myself a late bloomer. I was five when I entered the first grade and I graduated high school at the age of seventeen. Relevant or not, I didn’t go on a date, let alone kiss a girl until my junior prom. If you have been reading along, you’ll know that that is when I met Judy – my now wife.
I suspect that most of the guys in my class would have invented a tall tale moreover admitting as much. Nonetheless, I have never been embarrassed or ashamed by my slow start to manhood. Accordingly, I have never done anything with any other girl or any other woman since my junior prom. Never. Not once, not ever.
Without question, such commitment is out of respect and honor to Judy. However, it is also, possibly to a greater degree, out of respect for me. After all, my formative years were in the fifties and the sixties. I am a member of the “my word is my bond” generation. At an early age I was taught that trust, respect, honesty, and a handshake were paramount. I was taught that once lost, these virtues could never be fully regained.
Needless to say, once I committed myself to Judy, even before taking the obligatory marriage vows, I drew a line. A line I vowed to never cross. Consequently, all these many, many years later, that line has still never been crossed.
Self-Reflection
Recently we watched The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Later that night I revisited the scene where Gollum (a.k.a. Smeagol) confronted his alter ego in a pool of water. As he argued with his inner demons, he contemplated murdering Frodo and Samwise.
Incidentally, according to Google AI, “a face to face confrontation with oneself refers to the process of self-reflection and introspection. Whereas one examines their thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and shortcomings in order to understand themselves better and identify areas for improvement.”
Without question, I have spent a lot of time examining my thoughts, my feelings, my behaviors, and my shortcomings. The obvious conclusion, I am human, and I am incredibly flawed. With regards to identifying key areas for improvement, they have been identified a long, long time ago. Unfortunately, most of the necessary retrofits and upgrades are still on backorder. Sadly, the fix is never that easy. I am who I am, and I have been who I am for a really long time. It’s a little late in the game to become somebody else, someone I could never convincingly become.
What a Worry Wart
Among the baggage lining my closet floor is a battered and musty oversized satchel with an ID tag labeled, Worry. Of all my baggage, it’s the one that, needless to say, is the most worrisome.
Sometimes I worry that I might be thinking too much. Frequently I worry that I might be overthinking, though I cannot image that’s possible. From time to time I worry that I care too much. Whereupon I worry that I don’t care enough. Sometimes I just plain worry. Other times I worry that I am not worrying enough.
It’s Complicated
In 1862 Emily Dickinson wrote the timeless quote “The heart wants what it wants.” Again, according to Google AI, “The quote is often used to acknowledge that our emotions can be strong and unexpected. That we may find ourselves drawn to people or situations that defy logic or societal expectations.”
Granted, it might be true that the heart wants what it wants. Once in a while the heart gets what he wants. Sad to say, sometimes he doesn’t. After all, such happy endings only happen on the Hallmark Channel, fairy tales, and your wildest dreams.
Likewise, just because the heart wants what it wants, that doesn’t mean that one pursues this person, place, or thing. It simply means that one’s heart and one’s mind are conflicted. Often times in a very complex and very traumatic way.
Grown men behave like schoolboys and grown women dress like their teenage daughters. Cats and dogs become surrogates for the most unlikely of pairings. On a brighter note, Albert has become smitten for a young Mexican maiden. Sometimes dream do come true.
I Said I Wouldn’t, But I Did
As if it’s not enough that the heart is a selfish bastard, he is also very gullible and terribly naive. It would seem that my heart is very much like some of the dogs that have appeared on television. Specifically, on “The Incredible Dr. Pol” veterinary show that airs (now in reruns only) on the Nat Geo Wild channel.
The dogs to which I refer are the ones that got too close to a porcupine. There they lie on the examining room table. A face full of quills and a look that says, “I didn’t learn my lesson, did I?” One by one the veterinarian mercifully, yet painfully, removes these porcupine “souvenirs.” You cannot help but feel sorry for the poor thing.
Without the slightest doubt, you know what will happen the next time this dog happens upon a porcupine. Without hesitation, he’ll move in for a closer inspection. Whereupon he’ll once again find himself lying on an examining room table. Whereupon a vet once again will mercifully, yet painfully, one by one removes yet another face full of porcupine quills.
Yep, been there, done that. I have said more than once that I would never do that again. But I did. I have told myself more than once that I would never care that much again. But I did. And here I lie, metaphorically speaking, on an examining room table. A face full of quills and a look that says, “I didn’t learn my lesson, did I?” No, you poor thing, you surely didn’t.
Station Break
Right about now, some of you are probably wondering, what the flip is he talking about? Just remember, it was never my intent to talk in a cohesive manner, I am rambling after all. And I am rambling helter skelter as thoughts pop into my head in no particular order. Just as thoughts tend to do.
And, above all else, unlike Taylor Swift, I am not talking about someone who did me wrong. I am simply talking (well maybe not simply) about feelings that I have. Feelings that come and go. Some that keeps me up at night. Feelings that I own. All of which make me who I am. Yep, warts and all.
The Need to be Needed
I have been known to exhibit oxymoronic behavior. As an example, I am a loner that needs to be needed. Yeah, I know. Makes about as much sense as jumbo shrimp.
I do indeed insist that I am a loner. But to what extent. By what definition? Could I live in a treehouse in a mystical forest for the rest of my life? Sometimes I think I could. From time to time I think I would like to find out. Then again, perhaps I am simply the occasional loner that likes a bit of solitude. Of varying frequencies and varying lengths on an occasional basis? Yeah, that’s it.
Likewise, I do indeed need to be needed. But how so and in what ways? For certain, in ways more meaningful than putting bread on the table or washing the dishes afterwards. Fact is, I like to be needed by someone other than a spouse, a sibling, or an off spring. While their needs are real, the net effect of providing the support isn’t the same. No offense intended. It’s just the way I am wired.
Furthermore, I suspect that most people would agree. Giving help to or receiving help from an acquaintance or a stranger has a more impactful feeling. I’d be willing to bet that every time you relive that moment, you get an endorphin rush. Just saying.