Often, I post things on Facebook that get me into trouble. Not any sort of tangible trouble, but they generate misinterpreted concern and worry. Not that I lack gratitude that people out there care about my well-being, but nobody wants people to think you’re not alright when you’re perfectly well (or doing great).

In fact, I’ve tried to make a habit out of making it clear when I am not well, and asking for help when I need it. I am awful at asking for help. Beyond that, I feel like I have, in the past, documented my dark days so extensively that I’ve earned some credibility. Basically, I wouldn’t try to cover up the fact that I am not well because when I’m not, I am not ashamed to admit it.

That said, I continue to be misunderstood, which is ok, because Facebook, Twitter, et al, are not good places to be properly understood, they’re drive thru windows that let us peek into a small selection of moments from hundreds to thousands of other people’s lives. So, for sake of clarity, I am going to elaborate on a thought that I posted when I should have been asleep the other night.

 

 

 

 

There’s no doubt that this can be interpreted as a negative or discouraged statement, but to take it that way precludes two points. First, it minimizes the implication that I am nearly beaten down by trying to overcome longstanding problems on my own on a regular basis, yet, and here is the key, I am not, and because it regularly threatens to, that I opt to get up and fight another day — everyday. I would also argue that the other subtle implication is that I am trying to fix my social, psychological, and mental issues on my own, but barely able to. Something, someone, or some others are surely attributed to my ability to keep going, because I surely am not on my own volition.

I know that I didn’t really imply it textually, but I am letting you know that it is implied by the absence of some statements, and the subtle implication of others.

To the more important piece of this, and secondly, psychological knots (sometimes also referred to as sociopsychological knots). These knots or holes that make it hard for me to function like I want are the driving force of what led me to post that status. We’ve all got them. I believe many of us go our entire lives without trying to untangle them. In my case, I’ve found that they’ve just gotten there incidentally rather than by overt environmental settings, and compounded into dangerous webs.

I’ve been thinking a lot about coaches lately. What are coaches for? What do they do? What do the best coaches do? What makes them so great?

In most cases, great players are going to become great players regardless of coaching. A coach can set them on the path to improve mechanics, understand game situations, and learn the X’s and O’s, but great players become great players because they not only have the talent, but they have an unlimited amount of fuel; fuel that propels them to obsess over the sport to the point that they would have developed most of these components on their own; maybe not to the level that they can with a coach to observe, poke, prod, and critique, but definitely to a level that sets them above the rest of the pack.

A coach can do all of these things for us, and does, but good coaches are a voice. To be more specific, they are a voice outside of our own. The one that tells us to take 500 more practice shots before we can go home. The one that gets in our face and pushes us to get it together when we’re falling apart. The one that makes us run when we don’t want to.

So a coach can teach us how to become our improved selves, a good coach is a voice outside of our head that pushes us to become that improvement much more effectively than our internal voice can, but a great coach is much more. A great coach is understanding. A good coach is another voice. A great coach is your voice; your voice freed from the bottomless pit of your own mind.

In sports, you might hit a slump. You can’t hit the ball anymore or you can’t seem to even make an easy shot, or there is just some sort of hesitation that sneaks in you’re just not performing anymore. Any coach will drill those mechanics, the X’s, the O’s, and the opponents scouting report in an effort to help pull you out, but the great coach understands what it is that is causing your performance to suffer.

Understanding. Because of understanding they are able to get to the core of your slump quicker and help you work your way out of it. Sometimes you might be making a small mechanical mistake and they know that they just have to work you extra hard to get it drilled into your muscle memory and let you see that you have no reason to lack confidence. Other times, they know it is something deeper, something in your psyche, or maybe something away from the game, and like a great musician, they find ways to tap into you, play the right notes and affect you.

Coaching. It doesn’t only apply to sports, of course. Why else do you think motivational speakers, business coaches, speech coaches, personal trainers, mentors, and so on are so prominent?

I don’t want to sound like I am devaluing the craft at all, but in many ways, therapists are our mental, social, and psychological coaches. If we are naturally obsessed with one thing, it is ourselves. We are intimate with our flaws and insecurities. In many cases, we are going to know exactly what is wrong with us, why, and who we want to be, but we have no mechanism beyond ourselves to mold us into that. Friends and family have some influence, but they can also be what has us so screwed up to begin with. More importantly, they aren’t in our lives solely to be that understanding voice that makes us do exactly what we need to do.

I’ve got a lot of psychological knots, and much of who I’d like to be is constricted in the tangle of flaws and fears. I was always too shy, softspoken, and afraid of being visible socially as a kid. Growing up, I was always jealous of the other kids who got attention from girls. I often felt like an outcast. I have no memory of receiving any valentines or schoolyard crushes. I spent most of my life believing I was ugly, insignificant, and inferior. The smallest flaw with my physically, mentally, or in appearance erupted into a wildfire of paranoia and insecurity to the point that I’ve taken most of my life to let go of most of them and accept that it simply isn’t true, but a machination of my own perverted, twisted self-view. I’ve always had best friends who were widely heralded as extremely good-looking. Because I was so overshadowed as one of the quiet, soft-spoken kids, I grew up associating any attention with negative feelings, even when it is an impossible connection. Even to this day, if someone compliments me on something such as my abilities as a basketball player, I want to recess into my cave and refuse to believe that I can be good, and likely will struggle with shelling up —  even in the most insignificant pick-up game. Many times, I still can’t accept anything good about myself.

The list goes on and on and on. The point is, all of these things were invisible as problems growing up, and over my short lifetime have compounded to an extreme degree. And because these things have been compounding for so long, when they interconnect they only ever served to make any flaws I know I have monstrously worse. If, for instance, I thought I was unattractive and that no girl could like me, if I got something like a zit on my face, or thought I had any physical flaws, they magnified and intensified with every related effect. If I had to hear about how this girl or that girl or, worse, the girl I have a crush on thinks that my best friend is hot in high school, then not only would I feel more pitiful internally, but those same flaws I felt like I had would gain incredible power over me.

Over time, these knots manifest in greater and greater inability.

I’ve been unwinding as much of the coil my entire life. In the past few years, I’ve made more progress in fixing my screwy wiring than I did in the other twenty-some-odd years.

To that measure, I am beginning to understand that confidence has two faces, at the least. Internal and external. Internal confidence is how secure and assured you feel of yourself to yourself. External confidence is how secured and assured you feel of yourself to other people (in your mind’s eye). These bake and form the entire landscape of your confidence. Internally, I am finally at a point where I feel close to supreme internal confidence. My external confidence still topples over when met with the slightest of force.

I think one of the disconnects I am still suffering from is the idea that allowing an influx of external confidence within me is tantamount to disproving what is ultimately my personal life thesis: that I am no good, unattractive, untalented, not particularly likable, unimportant, forgettable, and uncomfortable for others to be around. I know… I know that these things aren’t true. Within myself, I think I’m awesome, studly, overly-talented, the funniest, most personally magnetic person I know who is good at everything he touches, but to believe that within myself still keeps it a secret. Nobody else has to know it, but me. It is something I inherently knew my entire life, but didn’t believe. I believe it now, but to be externally confident steps beyond belief and enters into the realm of proof.

Getting back to this idea of psychological knots and coaching, I’m at a point where I’ve worked, tirelessly, to ingrain the idea of internal confidence within, but now I am at a rift between two cliffs and the only way to advance is by demonstrating what I believe.

I can achieve flares of external confidence by receiving validation from others. Someone might tell me they think I’m cute or look good, and I’ll feel like I do to the rest of the world (something I believe to myself already). They might tell me that they really like my writing or my creativity, and I’ll feel a little bashful, but also inspired that I can and should continue to not just create, but try to share it with the world around me. But being told I am awesome is just a band-aid that slips off easily. Too much of it, and I’ll find myself suffering from Impostor Syndrome, or counteracting it by dumping off some of my internal confidence out of fear of getting a big head, but the truth is, I still just grapple with these old ideas that formed with me since I was little. I can’t let them be true, because it would invalidate so much of what was my reality.

The problem is that I don’t want it to stop here. I want the confidence to manifest externally, and I want to be able to do the things I should be able to as a result. I think a guy like myself should be able to date around plenty, if that’s what I happen to want to do at the time, or write/record music and share it with other people if that’s the area I’m feeling the greatest creative hunger in. Whatever it is specifically matters not. The crux is that I know what is wrong with all my internal pieces, and I know what I need to do to fix them. I need practice. I need actuality.

Singing is an example. I’ve never been much of a singer. I was too intimidated by my dad and sister as a kid. That was their thing, so I never even tried. Over the years, I realized how much I enjoy it, and the voice is everyone’s unique instrument to the world. I’ve practiced a lot, learned some technique, and continue to develop my voice. Would I ever end up on American Idol? Definitely not, but I like to look at guys like Donald Fagen who don’t have the commonly accepted ‘great voice’, but really develop their singing ability and make it work for them. I am probably somewhere along those lines, but still developing technically (tend to be flat more than I’d like and my range isn’t what I’d like it to be). The point is, I think I am a competent to good singer now, but when people are around me — no matter how well I know them and am comfortable around them — I can’t truly sing. I’ll kind of sing, but I’ll hold back because I don’t want to show what I really have. In singing, you can’t hold back like that and expect to sing well. Yet, I’ll go up to the kitchen when no one is around, but clearly everyone in my house can hear me and really sing, and one of my housemates will tell me they heard me ‘gettin it’ or that I sounded good, and then I will feel sheepish.

In those moments, I am not only being TOLD something that validates my external confidence, but I am being told after demonstrating it. I have proven it, and thus had my deeply ingrained internal self belief invalidated. That’s the weirdest, yet most real struggle I’ve ever had.

It only takes one of these passing moments to send me stuffing my head back in the sand for days or weeks, even though it was an insignificant moment for anyone else involved. This is where untangling my own psychological knots gets really hard. If I had someone coaching me, per se, then I’d have someone pulling my head out and telling me to run 50 more laps until I start to feel that way no more because I start to get properly conditioned.

Like I said, friends and family help, but they are not here just to be our training wheels. Yet, when you’re an adult and suffering from awful, foolish, yet frighteningly real internal problems that should have been ironed out growing up, forcing yourself to learn to ride that bike alone is daunting. Worse yet, progress feels non-existent. Sometimes it’s just slow, sometimes it goes backwards, and sometimes you stall, but you can’t ever be sure which it is.

There are a lot of times I wish I had someone coaching me, or even a proverbial devil on my shoulder; being what, to me, is a bad influence, or really, just getting me to do things that I don’t want to do, but need to do. In such an example, someone would stop and tell me, “hey, what are you singing? Sing it!,” and not accept no for an answer. I liken these moments to jumping into a really cold swimming pool as opposed to just dipping your foot and dreading the microscopically small period of discomfort.

Only sometimes am I able to force myself to jump when I need to (though my ability to is sloooowly improving).

So there it is. These psychological knots of mine threaten to get the better of me everyday because they are so tightly wound. Because I can’t observe myself from the outside in. Because I have no voice outside my own mind. Because a head in the sand sometimes feels safer. Because sometimes I don’t get see the progress I expect. Because sometimes I see the progress I truly want. Because I can’t force myself to work on simple mechanics or X’s and O’s. And because even though I fully know what I should do to improve on them, I can’t understand what I need to do in order to make myself do it.

If I’ve learned anything as a friend or family member from my own internal battles with my past, it is that the most invaluable thing I can offer to another is to understand when they might need an understanding voice outside their own, not to tell them what they want or need to hear, but to tell them to do what they need to do in order to directly earn those things they should hear.

The examples cited in this blog are far from the only ones within me, and like I said, this is not about fishing for compliments because their effect is temporal anyway. Rather, I used them as examples because, yes, they are real, but more so because they are easy to understand and relate to.

As long as I’m looking from proof while also running from it, I’ll continue to crawl my way to becoming who I hope to be. Despite that, I am blessed at how great of a place I am in my life and the progress I’ve made thus far.

I think that in the past year I became, what I’d define to be, a man. Not to say that before I was a boy, but I was in some sort of flux.

I struggled a lot over the past several years with individuality and identity.

I still vividly remember the gray feelings, the dreariness, and the isolation that were the guts of my 2011. Notably, the couple years before that low point were all build up to that low point.

In less than 2 weeks, I’ll be 27, and I’m stoked. This will be the best year of my life, thus far, but I’ve also put an insane amount of work– deliberate work– into getting to this point. The past month has just been tune up to iron out any major wrinkles in all the slow changes I’ve made in my life.

There are probably several principles I’ve instituted in my life that took me from the cavernous fortress of solitude that used to be my bedroom, to having the opposite problem of having to make a concerted effort to spend a night with my lonesome. I think that most of these driving forces aren’t just great philosophies to institute if you’re struggling with loneliness, depression, anxiety, lack of confidence, or any other kind of social deficit, but also speak a lot to how to be effective at caring for people. While I’ve made all these internal adjustments, most have been small things that have layered, but I can break down most of it to 2 major changes I’ve instituted.

I usually write in a way that resonates more emotionally, more abstractly, but this time, I am going to try to be more practical. I’ve made a lot of internal changes over the past few years, and these are changes that not only helped break me out of depression and social anxiety, but also have made me better off than before I fell into personal winter.

My struggles with anxiety, depression, and emotional damage are well documented, but there are a myriad of people in my life who have no clue about my most recent metamorphosis. One of the things about sinking 20,000 leagues under the sea, interpersonally, is that a lot of the tactics you need to take to combat the anxiety and other emotional anchors that develop are not as viable, because it can be just that hard to function.

It may have taken longer, but, for me, they were just as effective as if I had, for instance, told myself with the social anxiety disorder that I had developed — “ok, I’m going to go out in public and force myself to talk to two or three people, even if it is just Hi and Bye.”

A lot of it boils down to tackling it head on, but sometimes we just lack the stability to go do it, or don’t have anyone who can push us and be our training wheels for a while. I had to develop methods that would put me in positions where I was forced to tackle it head on until I was always in positions to tackle it head on.

Now, I am in a place where I still have to make a point to be deliberate with some things in order to eradicate any remnants of my former anxiety problems, but I’ve developed so many habits and personal philosophies, that act almost as a fail-safe for when I think I am better off than I am and stop being deliberate with my improvement.

These habits and personal institutions are bigger than the end game I am writing about here, though, so we’ll just call them traits of compassionate friends.

1. Never Say No

When I was at my lowest point, I was so restless and cut off from people that I made a pact with myself. I wouldn’t say no to anything. Granted, there were some exceptions that are outliers (e.g. – if someone asked me to do bath salts with them, obvious no. etc.), but my lifestyle and decision making made those a non-factor. The point was, from a practical standpoint, it was a stupid personal rule to institute. You have to say no to some things. You should say no to some things. But for me, I needed that extreme.

Today, I’ve tapered that rule off into something more reasonable, but the point of the exaggeration is this: if I automatically was going to say yes to anything, be it an invite to a birthday party or a petty dare, then none of my other detrimental social manifestations would have an opportunity to get in the way, thus blunting the crippling effects of those socially destructive weapons.

Secondly, because opportunities are scarce when you’re in a rut, it ensures that you won’t be kicking yourself for days afterward for bailing on the first friend to try to reconnect with you in weeks. And once you start getting socially active again, eventually the next opportunity will present itself, and sooner the next and so forth, until you don’t remember when things changed or exactly how you seemingly won all your friends back and are surrounded by more than you remember ever having.

The Real Crux of the Never Say No Policy

Let me touch on something greater here, though. Look! THIS IS ME STRESSING IT!

My policy today is this: always show up to something you’re invited to.

Now, I don’t always show up to something I’m invited to, because sometimes it just isn’t possible, and heck, sometimes I’m just a lame friend, but because of this policy, I always, without hesitation– with excitement and gratitude– try my hardest to at least make an appearance.

We’ve all got those friends who we like, and don’t ever give up on with finality, but they just kind of, well, suck. You invite them to things, you text or call them after not talking for weeks or months, and when you do, they are always excited and you each promise to reconnect, then when you try again, it doesn’t happen. Usually, it doesn’t happen because they flake out, get busy (flake out), or just can’t iron our scheduling with you (flake out).

These things are fine. We all have to do this sometimes, but these types of friends are notorious for this. In fact, if you and your other friends ask how about them, all you end up talking about is how they are impossible to get together with, and you, in the moment, almost always seem to conclude the same thing: that person sucks.

The real truth is that these people just aren’t good friends. They might be great ‘in the moment’ friends, whenever those moments are. They aren’t good at being friends, though. For whatever reason, they may genuinely like all their friends and care about them, but for 99% of them, they can’t put anybody but themselves first. The fact is, I can’t find anyone who isn’t guilty of this from time to time. I know I am, but while far from perfect, that doesn’t stop me from taking a personal inventory on if I am giving someone a fair shake or not.

You could ask a myriad of questions for numerous people. Who usually initiates a conversation? Is it equal? Who usually is the one to let interaction die off? Does only one of us try to ever make plans?

And on and on and on.

This is good, but also exhausting, and you’ll still find a way to overlook people who really like you a lot, and who you enjoy as well.

And this is a large part why I am how I am with invitations.

Consider this: if someone invites you to something, it means they value you enough to ask you to spend time with them; to experience life with them! To share the world! In a lot of ways, they are putting themselves out there. Nobody expects everybody to come to something they are invited to, but you would never invite someone who you would be upset if they showed up (well, if you do, you’re doing something wrong). Likewise, you never invite someone who you wouldn’t be disappointed that they couldn’t come. This isn’t to say you pout or get really bummed out when they can’t, thanks to the invitation expectation quotient, but this is a case where absence of one thing equates to the presence of another. Excitement or disappointment.

Knowing full well how much an invitation actually means, how much value it indicates you have to another person’s life, then why, under any circumstances would you not desperately want to go to anything another invited you to?

Don’t answer that question just yet.

I’ve gone to plenty of gatherings and events I was invited to despite not knowing the person well at all, not strongly liking them, or even disliking the person.

That might be torture or impractical for some, but, once again, when I consider the implications, it shows I am missing something. This person sees something in me, so I at least give them a chance to see something else, but usually I give myself a chance to see something in them that I overlooked. I might have to go out on a limb, but I find that getting to know them is easier than normal because I already know that they tangibly like me as a person. If I don’t feel strongly positive things for them, I find that the pendulum swings quickly when I have the context of an invite illuminating what was previously a dark social cavern.

Finally, always accepting invites has really helped me not only show others that I care, it shows myself that I care.

Those two notions are mutual. The more I care for my friends, the more that they will understand that I care for them, thus I will have deeper, stronger bonds with everyone in my life. I believe that the greater number of close, strong bonds you have with people is a rough, but pretty good external indicator of one’s character. Not only are you augmenting your social life, making better friends, and really thriving off of your own ability to be a compassionate human, but you earn a lot of respect.

Any one of those reasons on their own is enough to justify the concept of always accepting an invitation. Heck, invitations being flattering is enough. The fact that it is so multi-faceted makes it one of the most important parts of my own life, though.

And before I move on, I might have come off as a little harsh on my feelings towards flakers and claiming those types of people can’t put anyone but themselves first, but consider this– you rarely get to see someone. You try and try, and maybe they always have a valid excuse. An excuse is only valid for a temporary period of time. If I am busy one time, what is stopping me from going the extra mile, proactively finding a time when we are both free and insisting we meet up?

Right. If you can’t do that, you’re selfish.

2. Learn how to be a lone wolf, then learn how to excel as a lone wolf

My previous social tale spin put me in an awkward position.

In fact, I only felt awkward. I felt awkward when I saw my friends. I felt awkward ordering food at the drive thru. I felt awkward at work. I felt awkward around my family.

To make matters worse, I was always on my own. Gone were the days where I could get a group of buddies together and go into something with some solidarity; some momentum. If I went to a party, I showed up by myself. If I went to dinner with people, I showed up and left alone. If I wanted to do something, I eventually just started doing it alone. First, because it was easier. Second, because I had so little self-worth that I couldn’t bring myself to ask, lest people find out how pitiful, miserable, and lonely I was. (All these things were grave exaggerations in my head.)

Not only was I typically alone, if I ever did anything, it had to be alone.

I had to become a true lone wolf.

Most People Have No Sense of ‘Alone’

One of the things that really bugs me about people is the general inability to be alone.

I know there are a lot of sociocultural pressures. For instance, as you progress through your 20’s, reach your 30’s and possibly even further, if you’re not married, family, friends, acquaintances all begin to treat you like you’ve done something wrong, or that you’ve missed some boat that only sails once (…like the Titanic).

“When are you going to settle down?”

“Why haven’t you found yourself a wife/husband yet?”

“Are you seeing anyone yet?”

And on and on and on.

Contrary to what too many outside influences have you believe, there is nothing wrong with being alone, in fact, being alone is a great thing!

This isn’t to say that you should strive to be alone, or that it is a permanent way of life, but it is just key to that entire moderation thing.

We’ve all had those friends who seem to have been in a ‘serious’ relationship with 80 people. Right when they get out of one, less than a week later they are dating someone else. Honestly, I would feel like a sociopath or might get myself checked out for borderline personality disorder if that were me, but it indicates that there is at least an imbalance on dependency or inability to spend time with yourself at all.

Maybe it’s just me, but that’s terrifying. Those people terrify me. Some of my longest, closest friends are like that. Hey, you, friends I love. You terrify me! Try chilling out for a while, please?

More Than Just Romance

It’s not just about love, though. I think the romantic element of being alone is an exacerbated demonstration, but it is more prevalent on a simple friendship level. And I can see why. We are social creatures. Going into any social setting on your own is tough. I’m sure there are biological and deeply embedded sociological factors that go into play with this. I mean, to survive, we’ve typically needed to group up, so when we see someone gone maverick, it can set off some instinctual cues that might make us wonder — “what’s wrong with this guy that he’s just parading around this place by himself? He some sort of black sheep?”

I still show up to things solo at least half of the time, and whatever it might be, I still feel some small nerves when I do, but once I get around people or friends, I am comfortable.

In fact, it is very liberating.

As somewhat of an aside, I’ll mention that I’m an overcommitter (go figure, you accept every invitation, idiot). One great thing that being a lonewolf has provided me is that I can make a circuit and see multiple groups of friends pretty easily. This isn’t a selling point for lone wolfing, but I’ve found it to be an added benefit.

You Were Talking About “Lone Wolfing”

I mentioned at the beginning that I previously struggled with individuality and identity. When you have to present yourself — on behalf of yourself alone — to various groups of people, you learn more about who you are and who you are to other people exponentially faster than if you always had your warm cocoon of comfort in numbers; your pack.

I became a Lone Wolf out of necessity. I had no other options, and that forced hand has become one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever had.

Not only does it help me learn who I am and how to represent myself, it accelerated my entire resocialization.

Socially, there is a concept that I like to refer to as an away game. In sports, you play an away game on your opponents turf. Their town, their stadium/field/court, their people, their fans. At the end of the day, the game is still the same game with the same rules and players, but it is startling how much impact playing a home game can have on a team’s winning percentage. Just goes to show how far support goes (not traveling helps).

Socially, it is not that much different. When you’re a lone wolf, you play a lot of away games. You might know one or two people well, and the rest are probably acquaintances or strangers.

First off, this forces you to always be on your game, even if you’re far from it. Even if you can’t snap out of it and just feel like you were a dud, the likelihood of it happening again, frequency, and overall depths you’ll sink to will all reduce over time. Away games are both highly stressful and highly rewarding, because they rebuild confidence rapidly, especially when it goes especially well.

Beyond that, playing a Lone Wolf Away Game also provides great potential to earn another true friend.

In the Friendosphere we’ve got Strangers, Acquaintances, and Friends. There are a lot of other levels of each of these categories, but the overlooked one is the friend you have that you’d never hang out with on your own (and vice versa), rarely communicate with, but when you see each other at some mutual friend’s gathering, you have a good time. They are more than acquaintances, but less than friends.

Over time, these types of relationships tend to cook until they come out of the oven as real friendships. And of course, sometimes you just hit it off with strangers and add another significant person in your life.

Being a lone wolf takes a certain kind of bravery, social aptitude and agility. Many people just don’t have these things developed, even if they’re social mavens — maybe especially if they are social mavens. The positive traits being a lone wolf instills are immeasurable for your other intimate relationships (and on that note, I’d suggest never dating/marrying anyone who doesn’t have the ability to lone wolf from time to time.)

Finally, because you usually have an inside connection or two with lone wolf social opportunities, you don’t have to submit yourself to the full on apprehension of interacting with total strangers, which is huge with severe anxiety. At worst, you can be a little clingy if you need a bit of a shield, just be conscious of it. Even if the best you can do from suffocating your friend is pull yourself away for a while at a party or something. I mean, I’ve retrospectively gotten put on blast for this before, but hey, I just needed timeouts because while they weren’t for anyone else, they were high stress situations for me. It didn’t mean I wasn’t having fun. Ironically, the friends who have put me at blast for this type of behavior were not my friends before my journey back into social normalcy. Now they are!

I know I just said finally, but I’ll say two more things about learning to Lone Wolf. Remember that counter-intuitive element to showing up and socializing on your own accord? The crazy thing is that it doesn’t show that you are some sort of outcast, but actually shows that you really like to be around people so much that you’ll show up even if it has to be by yourself just to have the opportunity to. Maybe a very select few people will stereotype someone like that, but people catch on to these subconscious notions very quickly.

Beyond that, you’ll also find that many of your friends consider you as part of their inner circle, because you usually show up, and you don’t need this friend or that friend as a shield so things don’t ever get awkward. Because who the hell cares?

Just remember, being alone and being lonely are not the same thing.

There’s Always a Long Way to Go

Like with all things in life, nothing really comes easy. I’ll continue improving on anything I am aware of, and I always strive to be a better friend to those I know and better person to those who are strangers. I could cook out some other major factors that led to my ‘dark phoenix rises’ moment that I’ve worked so hard for, but these are my two favorite.

On top of that, they complement each other perfectly. Even if someone is only trying some variation of one, you pretty much have to develop the other.

I don’t know if anyone will ever read this and feel like it spoke to them directly, but this is something that was such a struggle for me. For a long time, it was my life. It was dark and gloomy and lonely. Because of that, this stuff matters a lot to me. Maybe it impacts no one. Maybe nobody reads it, but I think the best I could hope for is that if you at least know someone who has struggled with any sort of depression, anxiety, emotional or social problems, that maybe you can understand their struggle a little bit better, and be better equipped offer your hand to help them through that time.

There are few things as crushing as seeing someone who is a broken shell of themselves, but there are also few things as uplifting as seeing that person revived and in a livelier state than they ever were before. I’m living proof.