I see you glowing...are you toxic?

Dear yous,

It's been a little while and that's alright, cuz I've been living life.  Playing music.  Recording music.  Eating.  Working.  Sleeping.  Hanging out with friends, all that life stuff.  Some of it's been pretty fun and amazing.

I have to tell you, though, and this is my reason for writing you today, yous - I'm a little heartbroken, feeling some of these feelings around all this stuff going on with "me too" and sexual abuse / assault in the news and on Facebook.  This may be a CW but I talk mostly high-level about it below.

OK, let's start with the positive.  On the upside, I think it's amazing that this is being discussed publicly at the level that it seems to be.  People are coming forward with their stories and there is light being shed on the issue.

In some ways, I feel like I should feel good about this, because now this issue that I've had no words for suddenly has a lot of words around me, but of course, we're dealing with the topic of sexual abuse, and so no aspect of that is really easy or fun to deal with, in my experience.  Well, that's not true.  There is another, more positive side to it, the healing side, and that's the side I'm aiming for here.

There have been reactionary posts I've read where there is a "we men" kind of mentality.  That stirs a reaction in me.  It feels dangerous.

And to be clear, I'm not talking #notallmen here, I'm taking about comments like "we men need to shape up" and "what are we going to do with this toxic masculinity that we have?"

Again, here, I feel like I should feel good because there are words pointing to real things and real problems, but for me this doesn't go deep enough and, at the end of the day, it's the fact that these two example sentences encapsulate the very thing they are trying to expunge, that gets me.

It's the idea that there is something to be done and that this necessity of doing is inherent to being a man.  Furthermore, the doing in this case is to rid the self of the toxic nature of....itself.  In other words, if I identify as a man, which I have personally for a while, then I feel this overwhelming sense of having to "do something" about myself and my feelings, mostly the sexual ones.  My self as a man is eternally struggling in manhood to either be a real man or to rid myself of the toxic things that go into being a man.  That's a real shaky place to be and so that place we call fragile.  Weak.  And so the cycle continues.

Now, the thing is, I don't really identify as a man.  I reject that, consciously.  To me, that is not fundamental.  I am consciousness.  I am whole.  I am complete.  I am right now.  I just fucking am.

And so are you.

And so we all are.

And there are different "we's."  Some of the we's are not compatible with each other.  But this is not fundamental.

"We men" is really not compatible with "we women."  "We women" is a grouping, I feel, of survival, of necessity.  If out in the world you experience constant bombardment of eyes and slurs and hands then to group with others who have this experience makes sense.  It's protection.

If in the world you experience the ability to sit at a bar and talk to your buddies about the serious 10 at the corner, then "we men" in this case is a grouping that ensures you continue to have that ability.

The thing is "we men" are on the power side of the social dynamic even if we don't want to be or choose to be or even if we feel powerless most of the time, as I do.  The whole point of this side of the power dynamic is to keep this power dynamic going.  And power dynamics are built with language.  And, shout out to evolution and nature and all that stuff upon which this is built, don't want to deny our animal nature here, but we're not at that level, any longer, you know?

I present socially most of the time as a white male and so when I walk into a room, that's what most people will see and that's the assumption most people will act from.  The power is given me by others simply by how I look, how I was born.  I am not comfortable with that.  In others' experience of the world, their power is taken simply because of how they look, how they were born.  I am not comfortable with that either.

This is what it all boils down to yous, that burnt, calcified deposit on the bottom of the tea pot you left boiling too long, too many times: it's power.  Boogie woogie woogie.

Power, power!  What the fuck is this thing we call power!?  I don't know, yous, I'm feeling a little exhausted at the moment talking about all this stuff.

Really, what I want to share, if I can be vulnerable with you for a minute, is that I don't know where I fit into this whole thing.  I am not "we men" and I am not "we women."  I am "we non-binary" maybe, but I don't know what that means entirely, yet. I feel like I've tried to be "a man" and have failed, only succeeding in abusing myself for my failure, mostly with socially acceptable substances an in socially acceptable ways. 

And I'm not "me too" either, in the most recent Facebook sense, tho that feels closer to the truth.  I'm not "me too" because this particular social campaign is focused on women having the chance to speak up about their experience, and I have not experienced life in this way.

But I am a me too in the sense that I was abused as a kid, I have sexual trauma in my past.  The diagnosis is Complex PTSD.  I like that because I feel complex af.  And also anxious most of the time.  So there's a grouping I'll take.

So here's the fundamental question I'll leave with: how does one effectively use language to heal the traumas the language itself, and thought patterns built upon it, are perpetuating?

With love,
Casey

Do I Trust You?

Dear yous,

Fuck off.

I'm sorry, that came off a little harsh.  What I meant to say is that I probably don't trust you all that much, by default, if we haven't met before and interacted...for at least a few months.  Maybe a few years.

Intimacy is slow for me.  And "Fuck off" is kind of my default mode.  By default, you are not to be trusted until I know you're not gonna hurt me.  That you will respect my feelings and boundaries.  This world does not respect boundaries by default, and so I have to try extra hard to make sure mine stay intact.

If you violate my boundaries, I probably will stay away from you.  I probably won't say anything.  In my mind, I'd really like to scream "Fuck off" in your face, but that never really happens.  The best I can seem to do is to scream anything at the top of my lungs, mostly when I'm alone...or maybe walking down the street, because it's OK to scream on the street here.  I like that a lot.

All this fuck offery, obviously, of course, is not becoming in terms of establishing relationships.  That's my problem, yous, is that I'd really like to get to know some of you on a deeper level, but my fuck offery won't allow it.  I put up a huge barrier up front and if you stick around long enough you'll see past it.  Or another way to put it is if I can trust you to deal with my fuck offery long enough, we can become deeper friends.  Whatever.

What I'm really trying to say, yous, is that I feel just as defeated and depressed as I have been - I can't seem to shake the thing despite little moments here or there.  I am alone most of the time and when that happens it just takes too much energy to reach out.  To make an effort to connect.  So here I will be until something external comes along to change it or until I change it myself.  Who knows.

Part of me isn't worried.  I've been here before.  I will find a new gig for money, and that will hopefully be good for a while.  I'm getting married.  That's good.  Lots of good stuff in my life.  But, of course, the external stuff doesn't so much matter when the internal stuff is shitty.

If you've read this far, yous, then we might just be friends.  You put up with my front long enough to see that I'm really feeling vulnerable, unsure of how to deal with these feelings.  If nothing else, I reached out this way for the day.

Time to give myself a fucking star.

Peace,
Casey

Because Jesus Said Some of You Suck

Dear yous,

I went to Outfest yesterday and it was cool.  Probably the most surprising thing I saw were the Jesus people rattling off calm, God-backed words of damnation.

I mean, I guess I'm not surprised that they were there.  It would be almost weird if they weren't.  But I honestly don't get their whole jawn.

That's not true.  I get it.  I understand the reasoning.  I understand the belief structure.  I grew up with that.  The thing that really gets me is that it's just so *invasive.*

If you asked the Jesus people why they were there, they'd probably say they're looking out for our own good by preaching the good word.  When your belief structure makes it OK to go into other people's spaces and let them know that they are not OK as they are, that's motherfucking invasive.

Of course, Jesus people have the legal right to be there like everyone else in a public space like that.  They'd probably argue that queer people are an invasion of their space.

But man, we're all humans, yous.  We all gotta deal with the fact of being human and all the day-to-day things that must occur in order for life to continue.

And you know what, yous, in the spirit of the whole thing, I'll just come out and say it: I'm bisexual.  I'm genderfluid.  Non-binary.

And you know what? WHO THE FUCK CARES?  Why do some people care so much what I do with my body, huh?  If you care enough to let me know unsolicited, then you're invading my space.

The more troubling thing to me is the culture of abuse we live in, that normalizes invasion of other people's spaces, that silences abuse victims and silences the oppressed, a culture that's heavily divided, that doesn't see itself as same.

THAT's gonna fuck me up way more than what I do sexually with this machinery that god gave me.  According to your rules, Jesus people, what your god gave me is shameful, and must be hidden, and must be attacked.  Where's the logic in that??

If you really want me to be healthy, Jesus people, healthy and happy, then you'd be better served with signs that said "Eat Healthy" and "Exercise Regularly" and "Love your neighbor as yourself." ...you know, as Jesus said.

Love,
Casey

The Structure of Freedom

Dear yous,

This is my writing from yesterday.  I'm only doing it to get a sticker, see.

I have a daily habit going, a writing habit, and I give myself a sticker, a smiley face or a star, each day I write.  Imagine the days of the week, all 7 of em, laid out as a circle.  Each day is a circle and each day I write I get a sticker in the circle for the day.  At the end of the week, if I got 7 stickers, then I get a big sticker in the middle and maybe a reward (still figuring that part out).

I - or I should say we - my partner and I have a few of these going now.  One for playing a song every morning.  One for meditation.  One for yoga.  One for gratitude.

So far it seems to be working.  Have 5 consistent weeks of playing a song every morning and 4 weeks for the others.  Now I look forward to these things when I wake up.  It's some sort of structure.

I guess that's one thing I've learned: lack of structure <> (does not equal) freedom.  Living with no structure is hard and freedom is a mental thing.  And too much structure <> safety.

The problem I had was that I had all this structure but no idea why it was there or why I was living in it.  So I gave up the structure....and now starting to build my own.  Structure, in terms of day-to-day life, really boils down to habits and thoughts.  Mine have developed into some pretty unhealthy jawns and so now the work is to reprogram myself.

So even though, technically, I didn't write during the day of yesterday, I'm writing now.  And so that counts.  And I'll give myself a star for today, because that counts as well.  And, yous, give yourself a star today just for being fucking alive and making it this far.  Cuz sometimes that's hard, you know.

Love,
Casey

The Continuity of Things

Dear yous,

What's up?  I just quit my job again.  And I'm starting to feel that joy.

For me, this is a deep issue.  I mean, you know, jobs = survival in this capitalist reality.   So....people have stuff tied to it.   Or, I do, anyway.

The reality for me is that I'm only in this job because it was a direct result of me calling a random temp agency in the paper one day after leaving college.  Got hired.  Promoted to corporate.  Became consultant.  Quit for a few years (kinda).  Back again.  Quitting again.  Leaving.  Changing my path.

I mean, the job itself, the career advancement, some of the travel, the flexibility, all that, that's good.  And I've enjoyed the perks of that well enough.  However, the perks in and of themselves are not raison d'être.  And it's terribly isolating working at home, especially if you struggle to reach out to people sometimes.

The job itself - the industry, as a heavily regulated one - entails lots of detail orientation.  I'm on the regulatory / IT side of things.  Or will have been, I should say, come December 6.  The devil is in the details, they say.

Now a funny thing just occurred to me, thinking of the date December 6: though this year Dec 6 falls on a Wednesday, next year it won't.  The funny thought is that time is continuous.  The breaks, the jumbles, the fact that Dec 6 is not a Wednesday next year is not fundamental.

What is fundamental is continuity.  Life is continuous.  Details are not continuous.

The first time I quit my consulting gig, I did quit officially, on paper and in an email.  But in my mind, I always knew I could go back.  So I never really left it.  And so here I am again.  That's kinda how it works, I'm finding.  So now I have a date.

And what happens next, I have no fucking idea but don't really care either, in the sense that I'm letting it go and enjoying the feeling of freedom.  I am not worried.  I have confronted much more fundamental fears and this doesn't measure up.

And the truth is I have skills out the wazoo.  I'm autodidactic.   I would even say I'm an autodidactic polymath.

What I really want to do, yous, is music.  That's why I quit in the first place.  I even blogged about it at the time.

Then, I didn't really know music in a way I could describe with language.  I could play by ear.  I could hear what comes next, but didn't know why.

Now I have a language.  It's the common language - the common western theory - I get that just fine now.  But it extends beyond that.  I've developed my own visual language to understand music.  Plus, to talk myself up a bit, I have enough skills in that area, enough level of mastery - writing, playing, performing, recording, theory - that I now feel I can rely on these skills.  Music has taken care of me, now I can take care of music in my own way.  Keep it going.  Keep it healthy.  Contribute to its continuity.  Be part of a community.

That's the thing I really struggled with, yous, the past few years, the past all the years: it's yous.  Other people.  I didn't understand myself, my motivations, fears, desires, and so I didn't understand others'.  You can operate at the level of society without really connecting to anyone, without really understanding the underlying meaning behind language and human relationships.  I feel like I understand the fundamental reason now and am grateful for that.

(It's survival)

(Ultimately)

(But what isn't?)

Peace!
Casey

P.S.  And of course, in moments of true connection with others, sexual and otherwise, the experience, I've found, is far beyond anything language can describe.  It's fundamental.

Collective Crazy

Dear Yous,

Yesterday was weird.  Another massacre, this time in Las Vegas, and I'm at a loss for words.  Like, how do you talk about this stuff without starting up all sorts of debates on gun control and whatever?  It all seems crazy to me.  We all seem crazy, collectively.

Now, I have cred, official crazy cred.  I know my crazy and I know my sane and the world around me, by and large, feels way more like my crazy than my sane.  In fact, I will flat out proclaim that I inherited this craziness from the rest of the world, like everyone else.  It is what it is, but I at least can seek to change my own crazy mind, which spins and spins negative thoughts like that its job.

I saw a TED talk the other day.  The speaker personified their inner critic and made friends with it.  They said their critic will never go away.  It will always be there.  I agree.

The crazy I own will always be there.  The potential for my mind to spin in that direction is always there.  Trying to get rid of it, fighting it only makes it worse.

Now, I see the same crazy on the national level, the global level, as I do inside myself.  My thoughts are specific to me, but the underlying mechanism I see as the same.  In fact, I don't see a multitude of separate mental conditions as the DSM would define it.  I only see one condition, the human condition, and it is the same for all of us, manifesting in different ways.

How do we exist to begin with?  What's all this about?  Yous, I wish you could tell me, but I bet you don't fucking know either.   Why do we exist?  How do we exist?  And how do we exist together, sharing the same space and resources?

There are, of course, 1001 methods for existing, getting on with day-to-day life, connecting with others, etc.  But take away your system, take away some of the lower level things maybe you don't think about most days - food, shelter, water, intimacy - and I bet you'd start feeling crazy, too.

Live in fight or flight long enough and that becomes your world.  There are plenty of our own citizens living in poverty, struggling day-to-day as their existence.  There are plenty of people who, day-to-day, get shit just for not being white.  Or male.  Or straight.  Or able-bodied.  Or any group other than what our society favors.

The thing that always gets me, though, is that the people living in this country are mostly our own fucking citizens, but we treat them like they are other.  Privilege, to me, means not having to worry about that.  To live in a bubble where the bad side of town exists, but it's safe enough being far away or safe enough riding thru in my certified pre-owned.

And even the people here illegally are still fucking people who must exist day-to-day.  Now that may not be anyone's individual responsibility and it's easy to slink off with that excuse, but I say it is our responsibility, collectively.  Why can't we fucking have healthcare for everyone, huh?  Please tell, me, Yous, because I fail to see why we wouldn't want to help humans as humans.  Why must it be unbalanced?  Why do we not see ourselves as ourselves?

Life is what it is.  We're born into what we're born into.  But man, at some point, will enough of us wake up and look around and go, "wait a second, what the fuck are we doing here?"

I don't know, Yous.  Hope you have a good one.

Love,
Casey

The Truth ver. 2.05

Dear Yous,

I'm writing because I often don't know who to talk to about this stuff - you know, about feelings and life, and just generally how to interact with people.  That's the irony, the catch-22 of it all - in order to get over stuff around interacting with people, you actually have to interact with people.  No amount of theory or reading wikipedia is going to give you the answer on that one.

The truth is, too, that I recently watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower again.  It's my second time seeing the movie and I'm working on reading the book again, too.  That's not such a huge truth.

What actually is the huge truth is how much I relate to that story, and how I wish I'd found it earlier in my life.  But I guess I wasn't ready.  I could have read the words but they wouldn't have meant a damn thing...or they probably would have, but I would have connected it to something else, something indirect - and cried just the same.

The other truth is that I'm inspired by the story, the writing style.  Writing letters to an anonymous friend.  That's who yous are, Yous.  All of my anonymous friends and probably real life friends, too.  But I am not who I am in real life here.  I am my real self here.  Not that I can't be in real life, it's just that I can only seem to be my real self in waves, in real life.  At certain times, if the conditions are right.

You know what thing I realized recently?  Is that I don't have to react to emotions.  I always thought I did.  Whether they were mine or other peoples', I was simply a ping pong ball being bounced back and forth between responses, unsure of their meaning and what, if any, place I had in the whole scheme of things.  What power do I have to react without being squashed?  Well, I guess anesthetizing myself gave me that power sometimes.

I have a lot of innate power, it turns out, but that power must be built from daily habits and positive thoughts.  Well, I guess power can be negative too - sometimes it feels moreso to me than not - but here I'm talking about the power to change myself, to make meaning out of this existence, to stop focusing on myself so damn much.  I have a black hole inside of me.  A lot of other people do, too.  I would even venture to say that all people do.  Hey, we're all gonna die, right?

Morbid!!!  But you can't escape it.  That's the truth.

On a positive note, I quit my job again.  I may have told you before, but I quit my consulting job four or so years ago to pursue music.  And then I just joined back on again for another project and am at "that point," six months in.  I can't take it.  The mundane monotony of caring about details I don't care about.  Mind you, my mind loves details, but it must be focused on details that matter to me otherwise I'll burn out and self destruct.

Iso.  Lation.

I'm sure you understand, Yous, cuz apparently we all gotta go thru a lot of the same things from different perspectives.  The connection is empathy.  That's what connects our different experiences.  If I can see past my own shit while we relate, then I can see the actual you, and see you in myself and vice versa.  And then it's not so bad, you know?  It's not so bad.

The mundane shit doesn't matter so much.  It is exactly what it needs to be.  Mundane shit that's best spiced up with some good music in the background.  Good thoughts spinning on other things.  Let the work fall out as it will.  It's gonna happen anyway, you know, and I tend to feel the struggle is necessary.  What's it just like to relax?  Into it all, into the struggle, into the glory of letting it go, into touching other people, into being touched.  And hey, that's not even such a big fucking deal, probably the most normal thing of all.  Human touch.

But when I am isolated, I may feel as safe and stable as an isosceles triangle, protecting a side of myself that I make smaller than the others - the side of myself that's happy to be alive, that appreciates human connection, that trusts in the relative tolerance of it all - but if I'm protecting that side from harm, then it never comes out and I never feel balanced, whole, connected.  Equal.

When I am connected to other people, I am OK.  When I am connected to humanity, I am OK.  And so that's why I'm writing Yous, in this way, in this form, because it feels safe.  I don't need to protect myself as much this way.

Sometimes the truth is best handed indirectly, you know.

Love,
Casey