Life Counselor #6

(Reed’s song of the day: Show Your Face, by Balance and Composure)

Hello, o fearless leader of the Nudie Boys.

Hoo boy, this is going to be a hard one to write. I feel like every facet of what it means to be a brother, both the good and the bad, is prevalent in our relationship. We’ve been down a long, twisting road together. Somehow, we’re still doing pretty okay.

You have probably had more tangible impact on my life than anyone else, at least in sheer numbers (although Lindsay’s starting to get a leg up on you). You were the one to instruct me about philosophy and writing, the one who got me into punk rock and straight edge. You helped design the first tattoo I ever got and paid for it as a gift.

You’ve shown me what it means to be a thinking person. You’ve shown me how we can’t be content to ever just be content – that we have to keep moving forward, learning more, carving our path throughout the world. You’ve pushed me, and in some cases you’ve been the incentive for me to push myself. You were a standard I could never reach, but I kept trying anyway.

But honestly, I think some of the things you’ve taught me were things neither of us were really thinking about at the time. Some lessons I’ve had to take away myself with time, but you were the first person to plant that seed of thought (in some cases unconsciously).

Like the time you were going to see your ex, but I was having some sort of stupid girl troubles and you sat with me in the car for like a half hour, keeping her waiting, to make sure I was okay. I just remember being there and thinking, this is what I should be like to Trevor. This is who I want to be to the people I love.

And all of the times we’ve talked, all of the times I’ve had some sort of strange inferiority complex when speaking to you about a decision I’ve made, it’s forced me to realize – I need to have more confidence in my own capabilities. I need to not filter everything I think and do through the lens of your (or anyone’s) approval. And most importantly, I can accept offers of help, opinions, and even criticisms of myself without letting it impact me so damn much.

I’m still not great at treating you like a peer instead of a superior. There’s a decent amount I still have to let go. But I need you to know something.  I need you to know I’m learning and moving forward. I’m learning how to separate my personal validation from the comments people make on my work or my choices. I’m moving forward towards being centered and trusting myself.

I need you to know I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you the past few years. I had so much anger and such a lack of understanding. Every time you tried to help me or offer advice, I lashed out at you. I remember feeling so bitter all the time; I’m so glad that part is over. But there are still reparations to be made.

I need you to know that I know you care about me. Everything you do for me (even if it’s not something that’s best for me at the time) is because you want to see me succeed. I’ve been so lucky in my life to have a whole community of people standing behind me, rallying me and inspiring me to do more, and you’re straight in the middle of that. It may be only in hindsight, but I appreciate all that you’ve done for me.

I know it’s easy to find ourselves back home and regressing to our high school selves. I know it’s a lot harder to remind ourselves that we’ve all undergone an enormous amount of personal growth – and that the person we are now is not the person we remember the last time we saw each other. I think all of us are blind to the improvements the others have made.

But we’re improving. And I’m proud of you even as I’m proud of myself, because we’re starting to put the worst parts of ourselves to rest and become our most perfect selves.

I love you. I need to visit more. Even if all you want to do is play Fortnight.

Yours,

Little brother

Rally in 2018

(Reed’s Song of the Day: All My Friends Are In Bar Bands, by the Wonder Years)

We join here today for a special holiday edition of Journey Into Writing. Thanks for taking time away from your New Year’s Eve Eve to read this post.

I did a pretty cool thing the past two days. While I had some time to myself in between holidays, I wrote. A lot. Yesterday it was 8200 words (about six hours in total of writing). Today it was another 2800. And between those two, I finished my most recent writing project, Sanctuary.

Sanctuary was like the shitty wine pairing to the shitty meal that was 2017. The book was originally intended to be a teen sci-fi novel about an island where people with mental and physical illnesses are quarantined away from mainstream society. It was meant to be a way to explore the various opinions people have about mental illness (opinions of both those who don’t have a mental illness, and those who do). And technically, it did that.

But there was something really, truly hard about trying to “dive” into the inner thoughts and feelings of characters with mental illness. For one thing, I don’t define myself as having any mental illnesses, so trying to write about them is a little bit like trying to write about what it’s like to be black in the U.S. as a white person. I tried to base my characters off of real people I know with mental illnesses, but even so, it feels like I’m making reappropriations and mischaracterizations of very nuanced and complex states of mind.

And it was emotionally taxing to do this day in, day out, for months. I made it a goal for this novel not to hold back on the harshness of things in the world. So if a character was sexually assaulted, you can bet I didn’t gloss over the details of how it felt to that character. If there was abuse, neglect, hatred… all of that had to come out. And it’s pretty painful to keep doing that day after day after day.

Not that it would have really mattered in this year. I’ve made quite enough posts about my emotional state on this blog, so I’ll just say it succinctly: I’ve been emotionally fragile and disillusioned by a lot of the things I’ve seen happening this year, in the world but also in my own life. It’s not the worst year I’ve had in my life, but it’s pretty damn close. So really, writing Sanctuary was just like the icing on the shit-cake.

And I have to tell you, I was ready to go home for the holidays and end this horrible year with some really bad family infighting. All five of my immediate family members have been in weird places recently, and tensions have arisen between all of us that are a little more complicated than who took the remote or what we want to have for dinner. Given my last interactions with my family members, I was concerned that having the five of us in one place for Christmas meant an inevitable blow-up. It wasn’t about if, it was about when and how bad.

And then the most incredible thing happened.

Things have gone perfect. Absolutely, honestly perfect since the moment I got back home. And not the “we’re tiptoeing around each other and barely interacting because we’re afraid of stirring something up” kind of perfect.

I had serious conversations – about politics, philosophy, the state of the environment and the world, about my issues and my perceptions of the issues of other family members – with everyone in my immediate family, and even with my girlfriend’s family. I have rarely been so honest and open with so many people as I have been in the last week or two, and that in and of itself is usually a recipe for disaster.

But the responses to these conversations were overwhelmingly positive. I learned new insights about how the people close to me think; I felt a stronger and deeper connection with my girlfriend’s family than I ever have before; and all the while nobody was anything but positive about things. Seriously, I can’t even describe what that has meant to me.

And then the actually good icing on the cake. I got an idea yesterday that, if I had about 10,000 words left to write in Sanctuary, maybe I should try to finish it before the year was out. That way, in 2018, I could look forward to a project that wasn’t so heavy and emotionally taxing on me.

3300 words a day would be a lot, I reasoned, but if I didn’t have anything to do from the 29th to the 31st, I could force myself to write for two hours or so a day. And the reward would be not having the end of that project hanging over my head in the beginning of 2018.

So I started working on it – and I finished a day early.

Just like I can’t really describe what it means to come home and have a stress-free holiday, I can’t really describe how it feels to finish Sanctuary. It’s been partially about exorcising my demons, and now I feel that so many of the things that were burdening me in 2017 have gone into this book and been locked away. I feel ready for 2018, with a kind of hope that had been mostly lost for me during this year.

I’m ready for the world to change, as well as myself. I’m ready for more hardship, more tough realizations and self-growth and exhaustion. But (and maybe I’ll eat my words next year), I think if I could survive 2017 with the support of my loved ones, I’ll be able to survive whatever comes next.

Or, to put it another way, I’m rallying for 2018. And I want everyone who’s reading this blog who’s also felt beaten down by this year to rally with me. Cast off your previous self and move into 2018 with the knowledge that, through your determination and your hope, you’re going to make things better in your little corner of the world.

And if you ever need support or commiseration, you know what blog to come to.

Yours, honestly and sincerely hopeful,

-R.R. Buck

 

Ups and Downs

(Reed’s Album of the Day: The Upsides, by the Wonder Years)

Well, this has certainly been an interesting week. In fact, this week seems to reflect what kind of a year it’s been for me – a year of ups and downs.

Mostly, things have been going downhill, and I’m actually really glad that this blog is forcing me to admit that to myself. I’ve had a lot of struggles with realizing what kind of country I live in and who populates it (outside of Southern California, which definitely is a bubble). I’ve realized some things about myself that make me sick to think about. I’ve had a difficult writing project that has drained a lot of my energy and time.

But then there have been good things too, haven’t there? In contrast to Sanctuary, I have Symphony of Legend, which I finished earlier this year, and I had an awesome time writing that one. I’ve realized stuff I don’t like about myself, but I’ve also made enormous strides in trying to correct those things, and progress may be slow to come, but it’s coming. And, of course, the recent downturn things have taken in the United States has disheartened me, but it has also brought me closer to my community and opened doors to deeper communication about issues.

What happened this week? Well, we found out that Alamabans will rather vote for a Democrat than a child molester, which is good. But earlier today the FCC repealed net neutrality laws, which is bad. (Here’s to hoping I don’t have to start paying to keep writing on WordPress.)

And even though it wasn’t this week, there was last week’s fires and the weird realizations they brought. But on the good side of that coin, I had a moment at work the other day during a meeting where I realized how nice my coworkers are, and how much they do to support me in my work endeavors.

I’m still not sure what to do with my life after this position ends next spring, but I’m narrowing it down more. And I have several new prospects for potential positions to apply for, which is exciting and a little bit scary.

Rarely has my life been like this – on the downswing, but with some moments of really stark happiness and fulfillment. Usually it’s more the other way around. But I’m trying to be more okay with not being okay, and I think talking about it to you all helps. So, in a way, I should be thankful for the online community that’s allowed me to indulge myself in moments of selfish reflection twice a week.

It’s weird, now that I’m thinking about it – my favorite band released an album while I was in high school with the same lyrical motif throughout, which became a little bit like my anthem when I was feeling overwhelmed. It works perfectly here, and I’ll leave you with it.

 

I’m not sad anymore/I’m just tired of this place

If this year would just end/I think we’d all be okay

 

Yours, with love and empathy,

-R.R. Buck

 

Life Counselor #5

(Reed’s Song of the Day: Should I Stay or Should I Go, by the Clash)

Not-So-NaNoWriMo word count: 23,651 words

 

I knew him… not well. I knew who he was. Tom. (SHOOT ME)

Okay, I know that’s not quite a fair quote to start you off with. Could be anyone on staff. But you know I’m talking about you, my constant encouragement to keep writing this stupid book about mental illness. The only person from O-staff I keep in good contact with (Sorry, Zack, Brianna, Aya).

I’ve been avoiding writing about you for a while. Well, I’ve been avoiding writing about most people for a while. It’s too damn hard to try to do this stuff, even when I’m not tired and hungry. But hey, life’s full of hard shit, right? And that’s actually a perfect segue into what I want to talk about.

You taught me more than I think you’ll allow me to give you credit for. You showed me a story so full of horrible shit that it still makes me shudder to think (and write) about. You taught me how evil the world can be to certain people who don’t deserve it, but just as importantly, you taught me that somehow, those people can bounce back. And you might not feel like you’re bouncing back, but compared to how I would be if I’d had your experiences… I admire you every day.

You taught me things that now have a permanent place inked onto my body. You taught me that sometimes, the best response is to just stop mothering and listen instead. You taught me that I don’t have to know the right answer all the time. That sometimes an arm around the shoulder is better than a billion blubbering words.

You taught me that life can be so much more serious than I pretend it is. You reminded me how goddamn lucky I am to have the familial relationships I do.

And honestly, you’re one of the main reasons I no longer think of feminism as a curse word. You’ve shown me what it means to care about social justice issues, and why every single person in this world should care about them just as much. Many of my friends would thank you for that, if they knew who you were.

You showed me how quickly a person can take up such a large portion of my heart.

And I’m not going to lie, you have taught me so much about mental health and how to best support people who are having difficulties. Every day when I interact with the people around me, I should be thanking you mentally for your patience in letting me understand these things on my own time and my own terms. For that especially, I want to thank you.

I’m determined to capture your character in a book someday – not this trash I’m writing right now, but in a book where you can really, truly blossom on the page as you have in my life.

I need you to know something. I’m not ever going to get tired of you. There will never be a moment in my life where I won’t want to be there for you. I love you, I enjoy talking to you, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone. If you’re having a bad day, please – just reach out to me. I want to be there to support you.

I’ve talked to you before about how I view the two types of people with mental illness. I want you to know that I always see you as the kind of person who keeps on struggling, even when it’s almost too much to bear. I have such respect for you for continuing to pick up that burden and carry it every day. I’ll continue to try to help you with it as much as I possibly can.

Thank you for sharing the disgusting, overworked, overemotional, wonderful journey of an O-staff summer with me. I’m so glad to have you as a friend.

Yours,

REEEEEDY

Thanksgiving

(Reed’s song for the day: Stand By Me, by Ben E. King)

Not-So-NaNoWriMo word count: 20,184 words

Paraphrased from something I wrote a long time ago and actually thought was pretty decent.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. I’ll see you next week.

************

Thank you.

Thank you for the tears. Thank you for the anger. Thank you for the nights spent wondering, or just sleepless. Thank you for the moments of timeless pain I thought wouldn’t end.

Thank you for the times I had my head bent over a toilet, for the times I was too sick to go to school or work. Thank you for the unique misery of teenage years, and the growing pains that came with becoming a man.

Thank you for every fight I’ve ever had with a family member, every time we accidentally wounded each other with our words. Thank you for every time I’ve taken something too far.

Thank you for that time when I beat up my neighbor for calling my best friend fat.

Thank you for every moment I was ever confused about my path forward. Thank you for every question I got wrong on an exam, every time I opened my mouth and promptly sounded like an idiot for speaking.

Thank you for my immaturity and all the lessons it’s brought raining down on me. Thank you for my naive black-and-white attitude, my bullshit arrogance, and my hyperemotionality.

Thank you for every rejection I’ve ever faced, every literary agent who’s ever turned down one of my manuscripts, every girl who’s ever laughed at my intentions.

Thank you for every time I’ve ever judged, assumed, or allowed the nature of my privilege to darken somebody else’s path.

Thank you for terrible moments I can be too ashamed of to speak about with most people. Thank you for every impromptu therapy session a friend has conducted when I think about those moments.

Thank you for the bad, because without it I wouldn’t know the good.

All the rejections led to my soul mate. All the immaturity led to my discovery of a new philosophy that guides me through these dark times. All the darkness led to optimism.

Thank you for allowing me to learn from my mistakes, moreso now than ever before.

Thank you for the presidency that has kept me grounded and reminded me of where we must move in the coming years.

Thank you for the dying world that inspires me to act on its behalf.

Thank you for the people in my life who are struggling with mental and physical illnesses, because in their steadfast resolve I find my own hope.

Thank you for the bad, because without it I wouldn’t know the good.

Yours, gratefully,

-R.R. Buck