Mind Numbing Nonsense

Or something of the like.

Just a few minutes ago my mind was buzzing with what I’d like to write about. I was driving home from work when it hit me; I should write about—and that’s all I can remember right now.

I am at my computer, full of inspiration to write, and I can’t remember what I even wanted to write about. Lately, I’ve been feeling particularly stressed out. I can’t really get into the weeds about why. Just know in your heart, that it has given me nothing but more fuel to continue doing what I am doing.

After all, my message is about love and healing.

I had a really good conversation today with a dude I look up to. It is funny how an initial disagreement can turn into a productive conversation where both sides make amends. I went to him for some support because I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. While I fully acknowledge it is a good problem to have, everything can get so surreal so quickly, and it leaves me feeling strange. It feels so strange because I’ve never really encountered these feelings or situations before, and it is hard to sort out all the emotions associated with what I’ve been up to.

We texted about it. Which, in hindsight, was not the move.

So, long story short, we talked on the phone today and hashed it all out. Everything is cool. Now that it has been almost three hours since we hung up, I have arrived at the following conclusion.

I was part of the problem, and he is an awesome leader. Even though we acknowledged our differing opinions and how they don’t have to prevent us from being friends, he was patient, he didn’t insult me, he explained his perspective, apologized for his part, and still gave me some advice.

I was in a bad place emotionally when I reached out to him and I took his words too literally and personally. He was gracious enough to put up with my bullshit. It was also sort of funny, because we both took ownership. I like to think I try to live by the principles of extreme ownership, but I’d be lying if I tried to tell you I’m getting up early every day and getting after it as hard as I should.

It gave me some perspective on my situation and how I’ve allowed myself to become too connected to it. I’m re-living those traumas a lot more than I used to. Not just the CSA, but some of the service-related stuff too. I notice that it is easier to get lost in thought. A lot of it is therapeutic and I’m able to process it. Some of it just sucks.

This pursuit has given me confidence and I’m trying to not let it all get to my head. Strange.

But, overall, it made me realize how much more there is to gain by building bridges instead of tearing them down. Finding common ground when everything is confusing and painful is so much more powerful than the alternative.

Overall, despite these highs and lows, there is no low bad enough to take away my drive to continue this mission. Everything, the positive and the negative, has given me more fuel than ever to continue doing what I’m doing. This pursuit is my purpose. I know who I am, why I am doing this, and I know what I have been through. I am also starting to know what some of the more recent literature regarding the issue is saying, which means you can expect a literature review from me in the near-ish future.

Not going to lie, I’ll probably fail this class. It was just bad timing. That being said, I have to prioritize. I’m going to do it as unbiased as I can, and as always, I will continue to acknowledge my limitations as I am part of the cohort. However, I must say I did a rather good job of that with my first research proposal.

The worst part is, I noticed a spelling error like three pages deep and probably hundreds of people have read it at this point. Maybe more.

Oh God, I hope not.

Anyways, I hesitate to say it, but I think this may be an era of emerging research regarding male CSA. I can’t help but get excited by the thought of more people gaining awareness to this issue.

Which was another part of that conversation earlier and the accompanying lessons learned. My situation could have been a lot worse. In the grand scheme of things, yes, my trauma is horrific to the average person. It is disgusting, one of the worst aspects of humanity, and I could write for eons about it.

It also could have been so much worse. In some ways, I’m fortunate it wasn’t. When I’m using the term “abuser” to describe the other boy, it isn’t necessarily because I believe he had malicious intent or he’s some evil boogie man. I believe he was abused much more severely than I can even imagine. I firmly believe he is a victim. However, to me in those situations, he was my abuser. He perpetuated the abuse on to me.

That doesn’t mean I am somehow revoking his status as a victim. I cannot imagine what he went through. It doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with that. I’ve got loads of questions, not a whole lot of answers, and my overall message is all about healing and love. With all of that being said, just because we were children does not detract from how traumatic it was for me.

Same goes for him.