Hammer and Nail

Maybe it is safe to say that I’m analytical because of the past?

There was always a deep desire to do as daddy instructed: use my own two hands to figure it out. My father was barely engaged in my passions to create things. I believe my friends and I wanted a skateboard ramp when he said, “You have two hands, figure it out.” That has stuck with me for all of these years. It translated into using my creativity and ability to use the tools and wood in his garage to make a thing happen. He did help us as a bit, but John, I think Robert and myself did create a half pipe that year.

It was never conventional, if that is a proper way of putting it, when I was growing up. Things were dysfunctional and incomplete, as the challenge of being dragged along with my mother and her decisions weighed upon my maturing mind. Mom and dad was never really a thing that I could honestly believe I had at home. There was no stability, or man a boy could turn to when he was vulnerable. I got tired of seeing mom as the mother and father, especially after they split for the umteenth time. There was only me and my own two hands to create the world after that year of skateboarding and idolizing Tony Hawk. All of the pros, really.

When the late teens hit, I was engaged in some pretty bizarre creativity. I created a life built around numbness and being too cool for school, which really bored me anyway. I became an adult, although not, trying to survive within my own head. It was screwed up from all of the instability and learned behaviors I was exposed to at home and on the streets. Looking back, my daily use of cannabis also induced the anxiety. As time went on and as I became somewhat jaded by the whole life I had experienced, I became very narcissistic. I was not tolerant of anyone’s BS, and it didn’t take much for me to fit everyone into the category. Not many, outside me and maybe my girlfriend, were good enough. I always found the faults in others. Fear of being hurt again, most likely. The past made me into the monster.

I am gradually getting past that ingrained conditioning, by choice, because it has completely ruined me, so much so that I became sick of myself. It took the love of my wife and her family to really open me up to a different view of the world. I can honestly say that. There was always the love that I was fortunate to see glimpses of when I was growing up, but age and marriage I think really helped me to see how screwed up everyone is, and how I just need to chill out on others. It is very hard to do so in many cases. My conditioning is a uniquely peculiar condition. It takes a lot of introspection to undo what has been done.

The constant analyzing is probably explained in the pages on textbooks sitting on the tables of universities and health professionals, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is coming to terms with who and what I am and doing the best thing with it all. Keeping my mouth shut is hard. Staying out of other people’s strong opinions is hard. Not telling people they are wrong or correcting their error is also difficult. I know it all stems from what is inside of me. The woven conditioning of my toxicity. Analyzation has to be looked at more closely as I go on. It is a great tool to have, but a tool is nearly useless when not properly cared for.

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