A simple hobby I've kept over the years has been causing an internal stir lately.
Walking.
I'll try not to over-explain how I've grown a strong attachment to the most basic-ass form of exercise in human history. A lot of my favorite hobbies throughout my adulthood have just been different forms of moving my legs outside. Soccer, biking, hiking, running, walking. Sure, stuff like this is good for your health across the board. Although there have been times where my long walks have been fueled by a dose of paranoid anxiety. Usually I just do it because it's nice to be out and about in these dinky provincial neighborhoods. I used to do it a lot because I didn't have a car. These days, there's something else driving me. Sensory memory.
I'm convinced that the amount of mental time I spend in my past is both something that holds me back from living in the moment, but also something that's kept me alive. I don't think people understand that. Depression keeps hope out of your imagination. And perhaps getting at least a hint of reminiscent joy in a moment of your current life is a reason to keep living. It's a cool and healthy thought that golden eras in our lives can reshape into something else with each life change as we get older. It's a sad and realistic thought that much of the love we felt in times past escaped from us through the same means, yet that void remains unfilled. Because of this, I see no shame in walking down memory lane.
Walking has hit me differently over the last 3 months. I came across this brief bout of crisis when I was told my team at work was getting dissolved and we all needed to find new positions. While I've had this issue solved for a few weeks now, it was a moment that had me thinking about things I haven't thought about in years. The future. My future. Not like I've ever been some guy who just relishes in momentary impulses too much to ever think about future life choices. Quite the opposite. When it comes to life choices, I usually just freeze. I freeze out of confusion, in attempts to make sense of my past. And if I ever do make a choice, it's an uninspired step made out of confusion about what I'd actually like to do.
Now... You can bet your boots that the new job I took a few weeks back was exactly that type of life choice. It's too safe to regret. Where the true regret lies for me is just how often I find myself doing shit like this. It's not like I'm doing nothing with my life. But it sure as heck feels like it.
Anyways... When I got hit with the news 3 months back, I remember the first thing I did after work that day. I went for a walk on Canyon Rd. There's no other street in town where I've spent more time running. But for now, I wanted to walk. And think. I thought about death. I questioned why I've spent so much of my adult life in this dumb town. I felt nostalgic for my favorite college days. Perhaps even a couple of my teen years. The sensory rush of memories from these distant little eras of my life where I wasn't depressed out of my mind; it was hitting me stronger than ever. I would go on to walk down Canyon Rd multiple times per week for a couple months. I've since been walking in other areas, yet each walk still gives me a kick of nostalgia. Whether it's deep and introspective or lighthearted and refreshing, it's usually the best part of my day.
As for thinking about the future, I've had some lingering issues I've always been aware of that have suddenly risen to the top of my conscience. For a lot of us adults with mental health struggles, we're actually very aware of what our problems are. But never knowing what to prioritize keeps us in stasis. A personal issue that's been brought to light to me is just how much the way I view my future is related to how I view myself. And on my recent walks where I've reflected back on times where I seemingly better knew myself, things are starting to click. And as exciting as that may sound to you guys... I've found it pretty darn discomforting.
A quote from Jason Molina crosses my mind a lot lately.
It didn't use to be so hard. It used to be impossible.
I always assumed this lyric referred to Molina's fight with alcoholism. Despite the fact that this man's excessive alcohol intake was ultimately the catalyst to his death, I prefer hearing insights from people like this than whatever asshole advice I come across from former friends on social media. This idea that it's easier to give up than it is to try... There's some truth to that. Yet far from the whole story.
It's crazy to me that people disregard how much hard work goes into developing a fully-engrained belief in self-hopelessness. It's not just some sinful habit of sloth. Over time, people like me and Molina conclude that this belief is both logically and morally true. Even without a drop of alcohol in my system, and despite whatever relatively proactive stuff I've done as an adult, this belief has always been at the heart of it all. It's what keeps me feeling distant from myself and seeing no point in shaping my own future. Giving up on yourself is not easy. Staying in that mindset is easy, in that your decision-making is based around avoiding things seen as impossibilities. These might even be things you see other people do every day. Attempting to get out of this hole is difficult, as trying to change your strongest beliefs always is. But to top it off, most of the dirty work can only be done on your own.
It's now been more than a few years where things have felt impossible for me. But I guess I'm glad to be entering a stage where things are hard.
So, yeah. Walking.
I find it embarrassing to admit that going for walks has been the highlight of my recent life. But I mean, it sends me to a better place, and people probably don't have to understand that. I can't deny which eras of my past were my favorites. And while I've always known these golden days were never perfect, there's kind of a stronger ache and clearer realization of what self-negative tendencies flowed into my voided days to come. But you know, somehow--if this makes sense--seeing things this way actually makes the all the good stuff from back then feel more within reach. Ya know? All these emotionally healthy and harmful things have always existed within me, in differing proportions. I'm starting to entertain the idea that while my life can never be the same again, my life can maybe feel okay again.
It's summer now. I've been wanting to write super long blogposts about my favorite summers from years past. Friends, stories, music, etc. But perhaps I'll leave it to you guys to guess what my summers were like. I have no time to discuss every detail of all the time I spent on cruise ships, every romantic endeavor I had with my loaded history of girlfriends, or every job I had that opened my eyes to potential future career opportunities. Because none of those things ever happened.
Thank you for reading.
You should go for a walk or something.
