Who Am I? Gimme A Minute; I'm Still Working On That.

One weird trick to help me get my shit together...or maybe not

Who brought the marshmallows??

Before I met Erin, I dated a woman for about 2 1/2 years. To call it “tumultuous” would’ve been an understatement. During that time, we broke up and got back together four different times. The recurring theme for my ex was that, as she frequently told me, “you need to figure out who you are.” What, like being a 50-year-old man-child with no goals and aspirations other than enjoying the moment was somehow insufficient?

It turned out that I wasn’t the guy she was looking for, nor was she the one I wanted to spend the rest of my days with. The messy denouement of our relationship was a blessing in disguise. Shortly after I put that train wreck in my rear-view mirror, I met Erin. Don’t get me wrong, I hold no grudge toward my ex. Whatever she’s doing, I hope she’s managed to find what she was looking for. I’m just grateful it wasn’t with me. I wish her nothing but happiness…because life’s too short to carry grudges.

Over the past 11 years, though it wasn’t what I expressly set out to do, I’ve learned a lot about who I am. Even better, I’ve learned to like myself more because I have a better idea of who I am. There were times when my life resembled a raging dumpster fire, but now it’s at least down to a slow burn.

So, once I figured out that I wouldn’t be an NBA point guard, a goalkeeper in a European soccer league, or a Pulitzer-prize-winning author, what nuggets of brilliance have I learned about myself?

Well, no surprise, but writing has turned out to be my raison d’ etre. There was a time when I thought, or at least hoped, that I’d be bigger than Steven King. Then reality set in, and I realized that while I’m a decent enough writer, no letters from the Pulitzer or Nobel Committees were likely to darken my mailbox.

So, I write because I love to write, and I stick with it because I can’t NOT write. All these years later, I’m still at it, for better or worse. Charles Bukowski once said, “Find what you love and let it kill you.” Since I don’t love to drink or do drugs, writing seemed the logical (nay, only) choice. I don’t know if it will kill me, but someone may have to pry a laptop from my hands when I die.

Hopefully, I’ve been a smartass more than a dumbass. When you put your thoughts out into the world, sometimes you’re unsure if they’re half-formed or half-assed. I’ve occasionally been guilty of not thinking things all the way through, and the results have ranged from embarrassing to amusing to…well, you don’t want to know. Shit happens, and sometimes the cleanup isn’t pretty.

John Pavlovitz @johnpavlovitz

Mental illness isn't a fair fight, because no matter what you do it's impossible to escape you. That means sabotage is never far away, betrayal is always close by, peace is always precarious.

johnpavlovitz.comThe Privilege of Mental Health. Take a second and think about your day… How did you feel? Were you relatively comfortable within your skin? As you made your way out of bed did you do so without a struggle? Did the simple tasks in front of you fail to overwhelm you? Did you keep your fears at bay? Were you… Continue Reading The P…

I’m learning how to deal with my particular mental illnesses instead of trying to wish them away. Depression, which I’ve wrestled with my entire life, remains a constant, if unwelcome companion, but I’m getting better at developing strategies to live with it. Most days I get the better of it, some days it gets the better of me. It’s a constant battle, but it’s one I feel better prepared for than I ever have.

Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), which has also plagued me my entire life, but wasn’t diagnosed until I was 55, has been a much tougher nut to crack. Learning how to live with ADD in a world not equipped to accept it has been challenging. Accepting that part of myself has been an ongoing battle, especially the feelings of being stupid and lazy, neither of which are true but can be difficult to shake.

As I become more open about my ADD, I’m learning that I’m not the only one trying to live with it- and, yes, there’s comfort (if not safety) in numbers. The fact that I can also claim protection under the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) is comforting, though I’ve not yet had cause or reason to do so. I’m still getting used to the idea that I have an actual disability, at least in a legal sense.

Part of the reason I’ve never attempted to write a novel is that I don’t think I have the attention span to pull it off. Perhaps I’ll tackle the idea at some point, but I’ve never seen myself as a storyteller. The ADD makes it difficult to stay with a storyline for more than a short time.

I try not to take myself too seriously, but I take what I know seriously. I have a pronounced aversion to not knowing what’s going on in the world, so I watch a lot of news programs, spend a lot of time on the Internet, and read a lot. Some people think I’m smart. I don’t know; maybe I am. I prefer to believe that it’s just that I’m passionate about doing a lot of research. I HATE not knowing.

I try to be a good person, and I live by one simple rule: “Don’t be a dick.” (It’s more positive than my previous rule- “Try not to suck today.”) I want to think I’ve succeeded more than I’ve failed, and I try to be patient with others in the way I hope others will be with me. It’s been a work in progress over the years, but I think I’m improving.

So, perhaps my ex was right. And even if she wasn’t, the past decade-plus has proven to be a journey of self-discovery for me. Having a partner who hasn’t expected anything of me except to be who I am has helped. In addition, three or four counselors during that time (I’ve lost track) assisted me in doing the work I needed to do to get past the issues holding me back.

Dealing with my father’s death, getting to know my mother again, and becoming closer to the rest of my family have helped ground me. I have no intention of moving back to Minnesota, but I understand now just how much Minnesota’s a part of me. I rejected that part of me for a long time, and while Minnesota may no longer be where I live, it will always be where life started. It will always be responsible for much of who I am.

Ultimately, I hope that what comes through in my writing is that I’m like anyone else. I’m trying to figure things out and get my shit together. I’ll let you know as soon as that happens, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. I’ve been a work in progress for some time; I don’t anticipate that changing in the foreseeable future.

In the meantime, if you’re trying to nail down a central theme or what North Star and Cowboy Bars is about, let me know if you figure it out. I haven’t been able to.

Cheers…and try not to suck today. :-)