Over the last many years, I've filled my mind with noise. Podcasts, music, and video games have filled my home; while outside, I've constantly worn earbuds and listened to podcasts. I've felt that this constant noise has stifled my creativity, so for the last few months, as I've noted before, I've tried to leave the earbuds at home and tried to make life a little more quiet. Perhaps this has been effective: I've written a few drafts and read more chapters of books than I have as of late. My techniques have been a little bit effective in helping rebuild a little creativity, even if I'm not at the point where I can complete a project.
Nonetheless, the practice has also highlighted the reason I was filling my brain with noise in the first place: when a person lives alone, their mind has a lot of time to fold in on itself. I have spent the last nine years with constant kid-noise in my life; for the last 10 months, my kids haven't lived with me, and my home is often unbearably silent. I imagine I was filling my brain with podcasts and whatnot to compensate for the silence, to avoid reflecting on my loneliness and sense of failure.
I've read articles that highlight how difficult it is for adult men to build new friendships, so I've been trying to do deliberate things to develop new adult friendships. That's been one of the main reasons I've been involved with community theatre, for example: it's an easy way to work with fellow adults on a creative project. In less organized circles, I've met a few other musicians and tried to get connected a little better with co-workers. I've tried to be deliberate about building new relationships, and even tried to reconnect with a few older relationships. So far so good.
There's an odd surprise though: worthwhile people reach out to me and say, "Let's hang out," but they then don't invite me out to anything. This first seemed strange to me, but now that I think of it I imagine they're in the same boat, waiting for someone to invite them out. What a mess.
And this is where I have to battle my own sense of self-worth. It's very hard to invite people out to hang out when I barely feel like I'm worth anything, when the negative self-talk hits heavy the moment I pick up the phone. I don't want to hang out if I can't provide some positivity to someone's life, and since I see myself through such a negative lens, I can easily talk myself out of meeting up. It's ridiculous; it's a classic self-destructive cycle.
Because I know that I can be a positive person; I know people don't see me as negatively as I see myself; I know people have their own stuff going on, likely much more confusing and traumatizing than my own issues.
Last night, as I was packing up my setup at the restaurant in Harrison, I wound-up talking with someone and trying to explain something in my life, and I realized I was articulating myself poorly, that I was getting defensive. And the person I was talking to said it very simply: "Being an adult is complicated." And it was just enough of a reminder to me that I don't need to be quite so frustrated with my own lot.
So what's my next step, then? Well, I think I need to grab the bull by the horns and invite people out to hang out for a bit, even if it's only for an hour, even if I feel like I have nothing to say. Clearly none of the other lonely-ish men I know are going to take that initiative, so I need to do it a bit myself. For years, I had excuses of different sorts, but I don't think they wash anymore. I'm a separated man and my life is complicated and weird, but that doesn't mean I'm not worth hanging out with, it doesn't mean I need to be so ashamed of myself.
To go back to my original point, I still have lots I need to do: I'm still floundering at work, still having trouble memorizing my lines for the play, still have children who live a 12 hours' drive away, but perhaps I need to start, when I pick up the phone to turn on a podcast, calling someone to say "hello" instead. I need to prioritize real voices, with back-and-forth conversations, instead of the one-way conversation of talk radio.
And perhaps, if I get myself dealing with real people on a regular basis again, I might be able to feel good enough about myself to handle the silence again, to be alone with myself, to not want to fill my brain with the noise of forgetting.
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