My Story (Part 3)
Recently, we have covered a progressive set of moods that created my former line of reasoning. One vice seemed to give way to another as the crowds around me followed suit. We were children, and though we seemed to be having fun building tree houses, skateboarding, and mingling with members of the opposite sex, we were all part of a toxic ebb and flow that would eventually steal our souls.
In middle school, I reasoned that there was no ultimate meaning to my life. Personal value was only propagated by short videos in health class talking about "self-esteem." I'm not sure any of us bought it. After all, who gave them the authority to speak such meaning into our meaninglessness? They had none.
My experience in high school was a rough one. It was here that the logical out-working of my reasoning was made manifest. By this time I had already identified with the non-conformist entity. Punk music from the 70's and early 80's shaped my worldview. As stated previously, I was angry, very angry.
I played guitar in a band, only to get kicked out for stealing money from the bassist's home. I couldn't even tell you why I did it. I just saw some cash and pocketed it, but to my surprise, I did it all right in front of the guy's parents. Needless to say, they were swift in kicking me out. These were shameful times, which introduces my next point.
Shame. I had shame, but I am not sure that my mind was processing shame as it ought to have. Yeah sure, I regretted getting kicked out of the band, but I only wanted to apologize to the kid because I didn't want my name to be tarnished. That's what you would call false repentance or apologizing just because you got caught. You didn't mean it, you just felt obligated.
My mind could not process morality. To most of us ethics were like a foreign language. We had never been versed in it and just like the self-esteem jokers, no one had the authority to tell us what was right or wrong. We just did what we felt like doing. Unfortunately, that wasn't a good thing.
My reasoning was the only compass I had, but it was broken and it always led me astray. My first relationship, if you could even call it that was a toxic one. We were both disparaged, angry, lonely, and neither of us believed in love (or at least it didn't seem that way). We were a funny couple. Our manic emotions surged against one another like waves battering a feeble ship. Our poor disillusioned minds! There was no substance to our relationship. Yes, there were feelings, but it was our identities that attracted us to each other. She was the good looking girl with black lipstick and I was the witty fool with a mohawk. It was as if my identity absorbed her as only another definable aspect of who I was! What a joke! We only ended up pummeling one another into further despair.
My mind was misfiring on all cylinders, but it was normal. I was angry, depressed, and in denial, but so was everyone else! Every emotion I felt was negative. Nothing good lived in me. Isn't that what you see on all the drug commercials? Unhappy people eating pills to maintain some semblance of normalcy?
Doing drugs, therefore, was a two-fold solution to my dilemma. By subscribing to that crowd I could induce a type of happiness and by gaining acceptance from them I could acquire friends. Furthermore, I could stick it to the man! Of course, I didn't think this way as I drifted into this crowd, they were simply people like me. Unfortunately, I found a position of influence among my peers. Two in particular were introduced into the lifestyle through me. One of which, nearly ruined their life as a result. Although, they say they would have eventually gotten hooked regardless, I led them into a scene that they are still ravaged by today. Looking back, I regret my decision in leading so many people into abject misery.
I was plugging away at the emptiness again. My attempts were growing more futile by the day. The drugs eventually tripped me out and I ended up in rehab. I remember reaching out to a friend saying, "I want to stop, but I can't."
Eventually I would back out of the scene. It was all fake. It was just non-conformists saying they don't conform by looking and talking like all the rest of the non-conformists. Sorry, that's conformity... When I cut my hair and took the gauges out of my ears, I lost most of my friends. Some remain, but the majority shunned me. There I was again, rejected, alone and lacking.
If you grew up in my generation, you are aware of this struggle. We all had identity crises. We sought authenticity, but none could be found. We made dogma out of what our teachers fed us. Desperately wanting to be our own persons, we rejected our crumbling families and took up membership in social entities that were poised for our destruction. We surrendered to the machine we thought we were raging against. We weren't children anymore. We were products and statistics; the alternative status quo. Life took on a new shape in our teenage years and set us on the path of a precarious adult-life. The void was growing ever larger, and soon, we would topple convention trying to import meaning into our meaninglessness.
In middle school, I reasoned that there was no ultimate meaning to my life. Personal value was only propagated by short videos in health class talking about "self-esteem." I'm not sure any of us bought it. After all, who gave them the authority to speak such meaning into our meaninglessness? They had none.
My experience in high school was a rough one. It was here that the logical out-working of my reasoning was made manifest. By this time I had already identified with the non-conformist entity. Punk music from the 70's and early 80's shaped my worldview. As stated previously, I was angry, very angry.
I played guitar in a band, only to get kicked out for stealing money from the bassist's home. I couldn't even tell you why I did it. I just saw some cash and pocketed it, but to my surprise, I did it all right in front of the guy's parents. Needless to say, they were swift in kicking me out. These were shameful times, which introduces my next point.
Shame. I had shame, but I am not sure that my mind was processing shame as it ought to have. Yeah sure, I regretted getting kicked out of the band, but I only wanted to apologize to the kid because I didn't want my name to be tarnished. That's what you would call false repentance or apologizing just because you got caught. You didn't mean it, you just felt obligated.
My mind could not process morality. To most of us ethics were like a foreign language. We had never been versed in it and just like the self-esteem jokers, no one had the authority to tell us what was right or wrong. We just did what we felt like doing. Unfortunately, that wasn't a good thing.
My reasoning was the only compass I had, but it was broken and it always led me astray. My first relationship, if you could even call it that was a toxic one. We were both disparaged, angry, lonely, and neither of us believed in love (or at least it didn't seem that way). We were a funny couple. Our manic emotions surged against one another like waves battering a feeble ship. Our poor disillusioned minds! There was no substance to our relationship. Yes, there were feelings, but it was our identities that attracted us to each other. She was the good looking girl with black lipstick and I was the witty fool with a mohawk. It was as if my identity absorbed her as only another definable aspect of who I was! What a joke! We only ended up pummeling one another into further despair.
My mind was misfiring on all cylinders, but it was normal. I was angry, depressed, and in denial, but so was everyone else! Every emotion I felt was negative. Nothing good lived in me. Isn't that what you see on all the drug commercials? Unhappy people eating pills to maintain some semblance of normalcy?
Doing drugs, therefore, was a two-fold solution to my dilemma. By subscribing to that crowd I could induce a type of happiness and by gaining acceptance from them I could acquire friends. Furthermore, I could stick it to the man! Of course, I didn't think this way as I drifted into this crowd, they were simply people like me. Unfortunately, I found a position of influence among my peers. Two in particular were introduced into the lifestyle through me. One of which, nearly ruined their life as a result. Although, they say they would have eventually gotten hooked regardless, I led them into a scene that they are still ravaged by today. Looking back, I regret my decision in leading so many people into abject misery.
I was plugging away at the emptiness again. My attempts were growing more futile by the day. The drugs eventually tripped me out and I ended up in rehab. I remember reaching out to a friend saying, "I want to stop, but I can't."
Eventually I would back out of the scene. It was all fake. It was just non-conformists saying they don't conform by looking and talking like all the rest of the non-conformists. Sorry, that's conformity... When I cut my hair and took the gauges out of my ears, I lost most of my friends. Some remain, but the majority shunned me. There I was again, rejected, alone and lacking.
If you grew up in my generation, you are aware of this struggle. We all had identity crises. We sought authenticity, but none could be found. We made dogma out of what our teachers fed us. Desperately wanting to be our own persons, we rejected our crumbling families and took up membership in social entities that were poised for our destruction. We surrendered to the machine we thought we were raging against. We weren't children anymore. We were products and statistics; the alternative status quo. Life took on a new shape in our teenage years and set us on the path of a precarious adult-life. The void was growing ever larger, and soon, we would topple convention trying to import meaning into our meaninglessness.
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