A Mound of Fiery Red Ants

The other day my friends, Jim and Sam, had a fight, and I took Sam's side. The details aren't as important as the fact that for the first time in my life I took a side. I've always waffled, never wanting to be disliked, compromising too much at my own costs, and hating myself for lack of convictions. Yet it doesn't seem possible anymore that I compromise to my own detriment.  I think it's because for over a year now I have spent my life in Portland, Maine, living the life of a monk: no dates, hardly any friends, and just a bunch of books and movies to keep me company. My life is pretty routine: I eat, work on my online classes, write, walk, read, take long baths, watch movies, and sleep - every day.  On Saturdays, I go sight-seeing to parks, forests, lighthouses, museums, and on Sundays I rest. All this aloneness and quiet has made me come to terms with myself -by myself. Stranger, still, I've learned that in order to avoid entangling myself in any lies or misunderstandings, I've had to face my essential truths and the consequences of everything. 

"Everything" includes an understanding of all my actions, from what I eat, to how I spend, to the importance of exercising, and all these things I must experience in their physical, emotional and psychological ramifications.  The funny thing is I know now I only had a superficial understanding of most things. I didn't know how one thing affected another and spilled over into everything else until it became a mish-mash of difficult and uncomfortable feelings to deal with. For example, I thought I knew something about budgeting, even keeping an accounting of my bills. I didn't realize, though, that my splurging now and again, which I justified completely to myself at the moment of purchase, caused a depression the following month when it came time to pay the bills. Depression turned into anxiety about my financial future and anxiety spiraled into an overwhelming fear about not being able to travel the world and one day live overseas. Yet I kept making the same mistake over and over again: splurging, paying with money I didn't have, and eventually feeling the discomfort of it all; that is until I became sick and tired of my actions and their consequences.

When you are living alone, consequences feel like rowdy neighbors playing music full blast at two in the morning. Somewhere in my mind, I had to pin point the pattern, break it down, connect it to my feelings, and admit the uncomfortable brunt of their consequences - not easy. So I started to pay off my bills, cancelled credit cards,  questioned all my purchases, and decided I only needed what I could keep track of on a daily basis. I cleaned my out my closet and gave away a ton of clothes, keeping only the essentials. Then I gave away the desk and tv set I no longer used. It all felt right after that, like I was beginning to make room for more breathing space to think clearly and effectively. Now my life feels a bit more simple and my feelings about money a bit more under control - not that I'm not tempted to overspend every once in awhile, but now I have a deep-cell wiring of its long, hard road of consequences.  Of course, I've had to apply the practice of thinking, feeling, admitting, and tweaking to everything: eating, sex, friends, goals, exercise.  Sometimes, I feel like I'm standing on a mound of fiery red ants, biting, stinging, and daring me to go deeper into the heart of it all.  But I keep going anyway and it's brutal but eventually liberating.