You know nothing Joel Vogt- Part 3

Several weeks ago I started a blog series detailing my journey to God as it stands so far.  I feel that today, on the eve of the birth of our savior, it is appropriate to continue this series.

Part 2 is here. Part 2  Please read one and two if you have not already done so.  There will be no test, but I do feel that it is important to grasp where I was coming from in this section.


     Something I haven't shared with you yet is the bouts of unexplained weirdness that surrounded and supplemented my faith in God while I was growing up.  I, on 4 separate occasions saw what I believed to be ghosts.  I sometimes knew things before they happened, but I could not control when or how that ability would appear (it was always insignificant stuff like randomly vocalizing the next card that a friend played in UNO right before she played it).  I felt that I had my own "proof" of God because I was "connected" to the supernatural.  I remember prayers that were answered VERY specifically.  I knew God existed because without God these supernatural things could not happen or exist.  I always said that God knew I was skeptical by nature, so he must have given me a little more proof than other normal people.

   
Right after I spoke with my Priest about becoming a priest I was asked to write a letter to the church announcing my interest in the priesthood.  I was unable to read it at church due to some crazy scheduling thing so my dad read it.  He read it in front of the church.  He told everyone how proud he was of me.
A few weeks later I realized that I didn't want to be a Catholic priest.  I did not want to be stuck in a commitment for the rest of my life without the ability to father children.  I did not want to give up on having amazing love and relationships.  I wanted to get married.  This was a huge mentality shift for me.  I believed that all I wanted was to be a priest and overnight it changed.  I was left with a hole to fill... my plan... my ambition. It didn't matter to me what God wanted me to do with my life.  IT WAS MY LIFE!!!  I was going to do what I Wanted.

I became embarrassed that I had given up.  I was embarrassed for my dad.  I didn't want to tell people that I changed my mind.  I didn't want to embarrass myself or my dad at the church by telling people that his son who just felt called so strongly had decided to turn from his decision so quickly and for such selfish reasons.  I contemplated lying to everyone about it as well, but I thought that would be significantly worse when the truth came out.  I finally decided.  I stopped attending church, but I didn't stop believing.

Still convinced that psychics and ghosts and spirits and things exist on our plane I read a book that my mother gave me.  It was written by Sylvia Brown the famous psychic.  It went into strong detail about what death would be like and what we could expect on the other side. She taught me techniques on reaching my spirit guide.  Surely I, someone of great spiritual power (in my mind)  could accomplish reaching my spirit guide as simply as she did.  After all I did hear millions of voices all talking at night.  She said that was an indicator of strong psychic powers that were just waiting to be tapped into.  I continued to speak at length with my friends about Christianity...meanwhile at night I was meditating trying to contact a spirit from the other side.  I started delving into Astrology along with this.

Around that time I went to a class for work.  It was a very in depth class about many things, but mostly about being in control of ones self and how one person can affect their self greatly. We stayed in a hotel overnight and one of the women in the class said that she did Tarot readings with regular playing cards.  She said that she practiced it as an almost lost art.

Several people went before me, and were all blown away by her accuracy.  I remember thinking to myself that I would show her something she had never seen.  I was going to use my "ability" that I still believed was mine to manipulate what she read.
I shuffled the cards per her instructions.
She pulled 3 jacks in a row... stared at me... asked if I did that on purpose... mumbled something about powerful... and the rest I don't remember.  Then she told me that I could learn.  she wanted to teach me.  I chose not to learn, but I took this as evidence that Christianity, as I was taught, was not the only truth out there.

Slowly I started finding ways to incorporate my Christianity into other belief structures.  I was shopping in a walmart for religions and I would take some of this, and some of that...

After all of this...When I still couldn't reach my spirit guide I went into depression, but I didn't realize that it was the trigger until very recently in my life.  I was looking for answers, but I was looking in the wrong places.   My religion that I had built in my mind was wrong.

I tried coming back to the Catholic church and I had many false starts... I would go 2 weeks in a row then stop going.  I could not get a healthy foundation for my beliefs.

I remember one prayer.  It was the first prayer that I prayed in over 2 years.
I had been living with two people who were constantly stealing things to pay rent.  They had stolen from other people, Walmart, and me.  We all basically lived in a drunken stupor.  All I was doing was working and drinking.  I wanted out, but I didn't know how.  I thought that if I had a girlfriend worth my time I would be able to straighten my life out.  I thought that if I could move out that I would be better off.  I had tried meeting women but I was not very good at talking to women.  At that point in my life I was very insecure.  I prayed....
I asked God to send me a woman.  I put in a very specific request.  I asked that she be funny, shorter than me, dark hair and light eyes.  I requested that she be sarcastic, and nice but mean enough to keep me in line.  I asked for her to fit in with my family.  Finally I asked that she one day make me a father.  I also asked for God's guidance in getting out of my living situation.

The very next day I met the woman who would later become my wife, and my roommates and I received an eviction notice because the landlord needed to move back home.


I will write more asap.  I promise.

You Know Nothing Joel Vogt - Part 2

This is part 2 of a series that I started about a week ago.

Part 1 Is right here. Please read this before you read part 2.

If you are Christian that is not 100% grounded in your faith I must strongly recommend that you do not look up several things that I will write about during this series unfolding. I will Highlight specifics that I think are dangerous in red. Many things in this series may surprise you, or change your opinion of me. You may learn things that you do not know about me yet. You may be surprised, or upset, or angry at me if you love me. You may not feel any of these things at all and I may just be assuming things. I am trusting that God is with me while I write this, and I am praying that the message comes though very safely and clearly. Let's get right into it shall we?

When I entered High School I was finding myself through music. I came into marching band before school started and it became the center of my social circle. I made a few friends in the beginning of the year. they all played a card game every day. I became enthralled in this card game. it became the reason for me going to school every day. I focussed on getting better cards and becoming better at the game more than my work. Between this, and my fascination with the opposite sex I became 100% distracted from the foundation that my faith was built upon. I continued to play video games when I was home, and I spent a lot of time playing Final Fantasy at home in the first two years of high school.

I still attended church on the holidays, and I had a tendency to pray when I wanted something. Sometimes I even made bargains with God. Do this and I will do that... that kind of thing.

I attended CCD classes and I learned about what God was supposed to be.

I began to see strange things more and more at this age. I would catch a glimpse of someone in my peripheral vision. I would sometimes have long episodes of de ja vu. It would seem as though I had lived whole 10 minute periods before. I slowly became interested in Ghosts and other spiritual beings in my freshman year of High school.

I told my mother about these things and she encouraged me to listen more. I did more and more research on the paranormal. It began to overtake my Christian faith. I began to stop asking God for things and I simply used my "gifts" as I called them to justify what I believed. I did not need God or his word to tell me who I am or why I am here.

In my Junior year of High School I met a girl who would become my first super serious girlfriend. She was Pentecostal. It was important to her that I attend church with her for certain things so I did. I went to church with her on and off that year. I learned a lot about the Pentacostal religion and wondered why it seemed so different from what I was taught. I then attended an evangelical Christian church, and a baptist church, and an Episcopal church. I had realized that there was a hole in my spirit. I was trying to fill it.

Just before I received the Sacrament of Confirmation I had started to study Astrology. I was almost obsessed with spirits and ghosts, and I had continued to play video games almost obsessively. I was not able to stay stable in a social situation for very long.

Though it was not the case, I felt unloved by my family. I felt shutout from everything around me. I felt that everyone who once loved me was constantly attacking me. I only found comfort in playing music, video games, or hanging out with that girlfriend.... the one that I broke up with soon after confirmation.

In my senior year of High school is when it would all change. It was a false start that year, and it would not be the last.

It was when someone very close to me told me about the gifts of the Holy Spirit that something in me changed. I started reading the bible. I started asking questions of my friends. I tried to get closer to God. I prayed. I asked him to help me know him. I asked him to fill me with his spirit so that I could know him.

I was asking God to give me exactly what I wanted.

He had reached for my hand and I had said... no.. you have to do this for me.

I wanted this blessing so I could prove his existence to non believers.

I wanted to be the reason that people believed in God. I wanted to give them undeniable proof. I wanted this so badly that I attempted to write a research paper for my English class that would prove the existence of God. I wanted to do this mainly because I had been told that my English teacher was an Atheist and I wanted to prove him wrong.

I wanted to be a hero.

I wanted to be God's hero.

That research paper got a 41 out of 100 by the way.

That was the last time I tried to prove his existence. I stopped reading my Bible.

I didn't stop believing but I did not ever give my Life to God.

I always did what I wanted to do no matter what it meant to God.

I would apologize later and I would feel shame and guilt, but it did not stop me.

I stopped believing in Hell and Satan because I started to believe that, in my enlightened 18 year old mind, these things had to be simply created to scare people. (I thought that I knew everything)

I began slowly surrounding myself with people that believed in either nothing or another religion in an attempt to convert them with nothing but the summary of my beliefs. I must confess that I surely did more harm than good. I certainly had the "Holier than thou" part that I had been exposed to my whole life down... but a Biblical Scholar I was, and still am, not.

I slowly stopped caring...

Then my dad had a conversion moment back to Christ. He has a blog about it. I will link to it next post if I get his permission.

During this time we began attending church again. I got on a first name basis with the priest.

When I went off to College I still attended church with them for a little while.

One night when I was sitting in my bed in my dorm room I had a wild idea pop into my head.

I started to think that I should talk to my dad. I needed to tell him what I wanted to change my major to. I spoke with him. I talked to my friends. I explained it to my adviser. Then it was time to talk to my priest. I had to tell them all....

I felt that I was being called into the Catholic Priesthood.

That's it for part 2 Ladies and Gentlemen. This one was a little tougher to write. I hope that it wasn't too hard to read. A lot of time was cut out here, but I didn't want to include unneccessary filler material (normal life for someone that age).

It was hard to delve that deeply to pull as many of the ups and downs of my beliefs as I could.

I am mostly writing this as a record for myself, so that I do not have to keep digging up memories that sometimes are not completely there, but if this entertains, informs, or educates even one person on even one topic then I am glad to share it.

You Know Nothing Joel Vogt - Part 1

It has been over a year since I have posted on this Blog.  I have many excuses, but it all comes down to my lack of direction in my writing.  My initial reason to start this blog was lost.  I forgot my purpose... my direction.


I am starting a series today.  This will be primarily about my journey to finding God.  If things of this nature typically offend you because you feel that they are preachy or talk down to people I Strongly encourage you to read this anyway.  I was just like you a few months ago.

 I am not sure how many parts there will be.  I will be sharing many things with you that I have mostly kept to myself.

If you are Christian that is not 100% grounded in your faith I must strongly recommend that you do not look up several things that I will write about during this series unfolding.  I will Highlight specifics that I think are dangerous in red. Many things in this series may surprise you, or change your opinion of me.  You may  learn things that you do not know about me yet.  You may be surprised, or upset, or angry at me if you love me.   You may not feel any of these things at all and I may just be assuming things.  I am trusting that God is with me while I write this, and I am praying that the message comes though very safely and clearly.  Let's get right into it shall we?

This next paragraph is how this story was relayed to me throughout my life.  Sorry Mom and Dad for any inaccuracies or continuity issues.

My mother and father met in high school.  My father was very active in the Catholic church and my mother became so after they got together.  When they were both 18 they found out that they were going to have a child together.  They got married before the birth and they began teaching CCD classes. (For my protestant friends it is best related to Sunday school, or religion classes).
March 7th, 1986 was a Friday.  At 5 pm on this Friday My mother gave birth to me after many many hours in labor.  Upon my exit I broke her tail bone.  This does not seem like an important event in my life, but it is.  I harmed my mother coming into this world.  I did not do it on purpose, but I did it nonetheless.  I did not want to come out, and I had to be pulled out with forceps. I had to be dragged into this world kicking and screaming, and in doing so the person I had been closest to in my life got hurt.

Being raised by two CCD teachers is an interesting life.  I knew the priests at our church.  I knew many people from the people who worked at the church or the CCD office.  I attended the Catholic School. Everyone that I met there knew me even if I didn't know them.  My life revolved around church, and everything I was taught involved God.  I was allowed to play Street Fighter and Donkey Kong and Mario, and I was allowed to watch Power Rangers, but I was not allowed to watch Ninja Turtles because they were too violent.
.  I remember something  that happened when I was 4 or 5.   I had a dream about Jesus.  I don't remember the actual dream, but I do remember telling my Granny that I had the dream.  I also remember lying to her about it later and telling her details that I knew weren't true.  This is the first lie that I remember telling.  I told her that it was baby Jesus that came to me, and I told her things that he said...

I had been raised to believe that the Devil was the worst thing that you should be afraid of.  I was terrified that the Devil was going to come take me away if I did something bad... even though that is likely not what I was taught.  I remember laying in bed and dreaming of him.  I DO remember this one.  I couldn't have been in bed for more than 20 minutes.  I Saw 3 wrinkled up balloons on the ground.  As I moved closer to inspect them they started to inflate.  Each balloon was morphing into a strange shape... it was a face.. and ANGRY face.  It was the face of a wrinkled up old angry man with ears that resembled Yoda's Ears.  I sprang out of bed crying.  I ran into the Living room where my mommy and daddy were and my daddy grabbed me up, and he asked me what was wrong.  When I told him he prayed with me for a good long time and he held me as I cried.    I felt safe because he told me that I was safe.  I knew that my guardian angel was there to protect me.  I knew that God was there to save me.  Mommy and Daddy were like superheroes, and I always trusted them.

Life continued in that way until my parents divorced when I was 7.

Divorce in itself can be difficult on a child, but this was something tougher for me to deal with than just a divorce.  We stopped attending church.  It wasn't right away, but it did happen.  I still attended CCD classes, but I did not attend church very often if at all.  My mommy stopped enforcing her rules about me only listening to Christian radio.  My daddy slowly became More and more angry about little things.  They both remarried and neither couple went to church weekly.  I stopped praying every night.  I was still a strong believer but I had no direction. I just believed what people told me and I did not have an age appropriate Children's Bible.  I slowly lost my core.  I lost what was the basis of my life.  This left a hole that needed filling, and Video games were the right shape and size to make me whole again.  They were challenging, and kept my mind off of the chaos that had become my life.  Video games slowly became my life.

When I needed to escape I could always find my escape in Zelda and Final Fantasy.  It was just challenging enough to keep my attention, but not so hard that it made me want to give up.  Just thinking about it now makes me want to go play.... but I won't.  Don't worry.  This is much more important to finish.  

I knew the ending, but I had to be the hero and save everyone.  I had to be the guy who defeated the evil.  I had to be the superhero.  I didn't realize it at the time, but what I was really feeling was that I had to be like Jesus... and Zelda and Final Fantasy helped me feel like I was accomplishing that.

That's all for part one.  I hope it was a relatively easy read.  I will start right where I left off for Part two.

Letting go

Several years ago my mom and stepdad were helping my grandmother clean out her shed.  I remember being was around 14 or so years old.  They pulled out several toys from my childhood and set them by the garbage to be taken out.  I distinctly remember one toy in particular.  It was a riding toy, mostly white, with a bear's face on the front and a blue seat that could be lifted to gain access to the space inside of it for storage. 

When I saw this toy I was flooded with memories.  Though I had not played with, nor had I seen it in years, I immediately gravitated towards it.  I sat on it.  I opened the compartment.  I remembered being a child and worrying about childhood things... like the time i pooped my pants riding it. 

When my mom told me to leave it alone because it was garbage I protested.  I demanded that because it was mine I should get to decide what happens to it.  I felt sorrow at the thought of losing this toy again.  I did not want our time together to end again, but it was taken from me and thrown into the trash pile. 
Nobody knew it at the time, but I cried later that day.  I could not let go.  I could not accept that I would never be able to put my tiny hands on that toy again.  It was not a symbol of fun, but a symbol for being young.

This has been a constant in my life.  I have something.  It could be as simple as a toy, as complex as a relationship, or even just a feeling of that period in my life. I lose it whatever it is I no longer have it.  Sometimes I don't notice at first, but often I notice immediately.  As soon as I become aware of it  I grieve for what is probably a longer period of time than the average person.    I move on after much grieving.  Then,  after I mostly forget about it I am reminded again about how much fun I used to have. 
This starts the grieving process over again.

Grief for me is the period of time it takes to realize that something is out of my control.  As a human being I desire control.  I want to feel powerful.  It may only be power over my own life, but controlling your own destiny is a very desirable thing for many people.  When I hold onto these things I am really just holding on to my emotions about these things or people or time periods.  I want to feel the way that I felt when these thing were a part of my life. 

I have often longed for things to be simple like they used to seem.  There was a time that I thought my ideal life was within grasp and I barely missed it.  For a long time i believed that I had missed out on the perfect life.  It took my wonderful wife and children to show me that my ideal life at that time was not my ideal life forever.  As I have become more Daddy and less Joel I have discovered that I am really not in control of much.  Adding to that is that the more I try to control, the more stress I have and the less things go the way i want them to go. 

Every time I let something hard to control go I feel a sense of relief.  Every time I give up on something impossible I get closer to my true potential.  Every time I remove the chains holding me back I move forward just a bit more.  Letting go of the past makes room for more future.

A look in the mirror of time.

Often, too often in fact, I find myself looking back on a particular period of my life and wondering where "it" all went wrong.  I sit back and chastise myself repeatedly making poor decisions, and I relentlessly pummel my  inadequate planning.  It generally starts off as a simple look into my past.  I begin a walk down memory lane and suddenly it all comes back.  I'm in a situation, and I get to watch myself from a third person viewpoint.  I sit back and watch my past as a normal person watches a horror movie. 

    "No dummy!  Don't do it!" I say to myself,  sometimes loudly.

    This type of reflection is very helpful for future decision making, but occasionally I find myself stuck in one specific memory.  It may take days or weeks to properly move past, or it may take as much as years.  Ive developed some psychological tools to help myself recently, and this blog is dedicated to passing them on to other people who may find them helpful.  I am certain that I am crazy, but I am also certain that I am not the only person who reflects internally and occasionally becomes stuck. 

     Tool 1.  You can call it reliving the situation.  Most often I find myself upset because of a way that I reacted to something, generally when I became upset or had a feeling of low self worth. 
I take the situation and recreate it in my mind, and I turn it into a positive ending. 
Step one is to clear your mind completely through  breathing excercises or meditation, and step two is to simply imagine the entire situation up to your reaction.  Change your reaction  Right before you remember yourself react.  You may have to do this over and over again but it will work.  Just always imagine it the same way you imagine a memory. 

Tool 2. 
This one is a simple tool.  It is tried and true and has never failed me.  Call a friend. 
Don't expect advice.  Don't expect answers.  Don't call somebody involved in the situation.  Just ask to talk and follow through with it.  Don't hold back.  Don't be afraid.  Be yourself and say what you want to say.  Often these things in our hearts are the things most necessary to be said out loud.  Friends always know what to say to put your heart at ease.

Tool 3. 
Imagine your life the way you want.  How does that look?  Are you happy?  Why are you happy?  Who is in your happy life?  What do you bring to their life in this world?  How close are you to this happy life now?  Would reacting differently in the past have helped create that life? 
If the answer is no, then you have your reason to move past it.  If the answer is yes then I have a statement for you...
Too Bad!  You can't go back to the past and change anything, but you can let the past change you!   Make sure that you don't make the same mistake twice.  Don't screw it up and Don't give up on yourself.  Aside from our parents and children we are our own biggest fans.  Be who you want to be, and start being him or her Today Not Tomorrow.  You have to start by trusting yourself, and everything else falls into place. 
.
I hope this reaches and helps at least one other crazy person like myself. 

How Being Bullied Affected My Life

Here's something many people dont know about me: i struggle to be happy.  Every single day that i wake up i get pumped.  I intentionally pump myself up in an effort to become the most positive person around me.  I live by the words "itll all work out"  and "give it time, itll make sense" but every day i have to remind myself that i am happy.  I have a beautiful wife and 2 beautiful kids.  I  am blessed with a great job, and some great opportunities.  So why do I feel this way?

To answer this I find myself in a time machine in my mind.  Im going back to my earliest memories... way back to what i had early in life. 
For those of you who didnt know me, i was always very small for my age.  I was almost always picked last on sports teams and i constantly found myself digging in and taking verbal abuse from the other kids.

I was very sensitive.  I would cry if the right person taunted me enough because i couldnt figure out what i was feeling. 
You see, most of my life i was told that I could do anything.  I was told that all i had to do was focus on school and it would all work out... i was never truly taught how to handle conflict.  "Go get the teacher"  "if you have to defend yourself, make sure you do it with honor"  well thats great and all, but i didnt even know what honor was and telling the teacher either got me picked on by the other kids or worse: i sometimes got in trouble for tattling.  I struggled to make friends, and often found myself being pushed around on the playground for being a loser. 

Sometimes these "bullies" were my "friends". 
I just had to stop typing for a few minutes to deal with some memories i had surpressed i guess... the more i type the harder this gets.

I was constantly rejected by groups of boys from kindedgarten til 2nd grade.  There i began to realize that i got along better with girls than boys.  I clung to my friends, the girls, who would sometimes even tell a teacher for me if i was getting picked on too hard.  At least they did something when all i did was sit there and cry "joel the mole who cries in his hole."  "Wheres your "nunu" crybaby?(thats a reference to what i called my grandmother)  "Look everyone, I made him cry again"(his name was james... i remember him well.  I wont post his last name in case he is a decent person now.) 
I grew up eventually.  I remember being in 7th grade sitting in front of a kid who was held behind a year.  He always messed with me.  One day  When the teached stepped out for a minute he started hitting me in the back.  The first 4 i ignored, but on the fifth i stood up and turned around and yelled  "you know what "m"(for anonymity again),  im really tired of your shit."  The teacher came back in and looked at me shaking mad, and looked out at a stunned class.  He told me not to curse and reprimanded "m" for messing with me.  This is the first time i remember sadness turning to anger, and the first time i remember using anger as a weapon. 

Over the years i started using anger as a defense mechanism even before i was attacked.  I got so used to being attacked that i stayed angry... almost all of the time.  I never got into a fight at school, but i was taunted so many times.  I would just fire back a snarky remark and walk away.  Hoping that i could hurt them by keeping them from seeing me cry.  Over the years i stopped crying all together.  I stopped listening.  I became disengaged. 

I was so very distant from what was around me until my sophmore year.  Johnny Lala told me about these "HALO" parties that him and his friends had.  Then he invited me.  Because i had become so fantastic at video games, i was quickly accepted.  This introduced me to the joy of friendship, and what i sometimes call "pack mentality." 
Over those three years of high school i found myself being more and more accepted.  I finally found a clique.  I finally found a group that accepted me.  I clung to Halo as my lifeline to society.  I also began trash talking for the first time... and that led to bullying.  I took all of my hate and anger and used it as fuel to make other people feel bad.  I threw out words like daggers to people below my social rank.  I would take abuse daily and dish it out at every opportunity.

I later used my ability in halo to make friends after high school.  I clung to the series throughout college and beyond as it was my coping mechanism.  It allowed me to belong to something that i was good at.  Many other things were involved in making me who i am but none so much can explain my emotional state as my relationship with those games.

This is the result of everything ive explained: i couldnt feel certain emotions without working at them, Barring a selct few variances.  Instead of what i think is happiness, i felt the same way i do when a dissonant chord resolves.  Its a sense of complete.  I didnt felt sadness like i used to either.  I felt anger and hurt.  I didnt get dissappointed.  I got angry.  I didnt often feel helpless.  I got angry.  Really this all went on until i realized that i had another option. 

I stopped.  I stopped blaming others for my problems.  It isnt their fault that i didnt stand up to my attackers earlier in life.  It isnt anyone elses fault that i was too weak to help myself.  I was so weak that i took my weakness out on others.  That wasnt anyones fault but my own. 

I do still find it hard to be happy.  Im find im constantly thinking that i must be missing something.  I find it hard to cry because ive been so strong for so long.   Crying in front of someone is vulnerability.   I cant bring myself to let the tears fall.  I cant let go of some things in the past, no matter how small, because of the potential.  I find myself obsessed with the potential more than the actual.  That goes for people i meet in every aspect of ny life too not just opportubities in my own life.  I have a tendency to see the best in people that they cant see themselves. 

  I cant sleep now...
I might not finish this post.

Who am I?  What do I feel?  Why am i where i am?

Everyday i answer these questions on the drive to work, or in the shower, or some other opportunity to be alone. 
"Im Joel Vogt.  Im happy because i should be and I am damn good at my job.  No person in this world is more confident than i am.  Noone.  Not a single one.  They reject me? Forget em, I dont need em.  Laugh at me?  Doesnt matter because it isnt my fault that they aspire to be like me.  Im a winner and im good at everything i put my energy into.  Not everyone can say that.  Put that confidence to work and please try to be more humble" 

The only thing i generally feel is confidence.
Ive replaced all of that negativity with it due to my chanting over and over in my head.  Im good at so many things. Im strong willed... and i owe it to being bullied. 
Sometimes Im vulnerable, paranoid, scared, hateful, doubtful, untrusting, lonely, angry, and many many other negative emotions.  These i owe to myself being human. 

Sometimes replacing all of those positive emotions with confidence is a strength.  Sometimes it is a weakness.  Lately  i cant seem to figure which is which...  its been weird lately.  Like the whole world is shifting.... ill pick that up in another blog soon.
 

Losing and physical pain are life's natural teachers

What do losing and physical pain have in common?  I posed this question a few hours ago and I was surprised not to see more responses.   Last night I had something hit me.  It hit me like it's been staring me in the face. I'm a loser.  I've been a loser my whole life.

Now now now calm down.  Hear me out.    I'm not talking about that guy that lives in his mother's basement at an unspeakable age with no ambition or skill to contribute to society.  I also don't mean that guy with no marketable personality or charm that just creeps around.  You know.  The stereotypical loser.

I mean that I have lost in so many things in my life over and over.  Sometimes my losses were of my own doing.  Sometimes other people contributed to my losses by being better than me, sabotaging me, or some other means.  I have lost at just about everything I have ever done.  I've lost over and over and over again at countless tasks and competitions.  I've lost in relationships both personal and professional. I've lost in competitions as a child.  I've lost in competitions at work as an adult.  I've chosen the wrong job move and lost.  I've made countless mistakes. I've lost, and from losing I have learned how to win.

When it comes to physical pain I love the hot iron scenario.  When a parent turns on an iron to iron clothes very little about the iron changes.  A small light may come on and it may steam if they are like me and always turn it on too hot to begin with.  To a child the iron may simply seem to exist, neither in a "hot" or "cold" state.  Surely a responsible parent would not leave a small child alone with an iron, most certainly not a hot iron.  Let's pretend in this scenario that the child is mischievous and climbs really well.  The parent can spend all the time in the world teaching this child that the iron is hot, but without actual life experience the child cannot fully comprehend or understand what that means.  Yes yes yes tell a child "don't touch that" but all parents know that when you tell most children not to do something they are immediately plotting to do just that.  When the parent isn't looking the child climbs up and badly burns themselves.  The child learns.  The hot iron is hot.

Most physical pain is like this.  Often our bodies let us know when we are doing something that hurts. Yes there are always exceptions like chronic pain or illnesses that cause pain but those are not what i'm talking about.  I'm talking about reactionary pain.  "When I do this, I feel this,"  pain.  This type of pain teaches us how to survive on this planet.  It keeps us from seriously injuring ourselves by making a punishment correlation.  We remember what hurts and we do it differently.  Even when we work out and exercise we sometimes find that the method we are using or our "technique" is wrong because of what muscles are sore the next day.

Losing is just the same.  I am who I am because I'm a loser.  I've lost so  many times, but with each loss has come a lesson.  Sometimes the lesson is simply that I can't succeed in that field.  Sometimes I'm able to look back at my mistakes and learn from them.  I'm always able to be a stronger person because of them.  Sometimes I take losing hard.  That's because it isn't easy.  Just like physical pain losing hurts.  It hurts that basic self worth and pride that is held deep within the human heart.  Most people learn more from losing than they ever do from winning.  Winning is nice and necessary.  If you never win in life the potential to grow to resent competition increases exponentially.  Losing isn't fun, but it is as essential as our physical pain.  It teaches us what not to do and how to do things better.

Neither of these experiences are complete without thought and contemplation.  If a child touches the iron and burns themselves they are doomed to repeat it if they don't realize that their own actions burned them.  The same parallel can be drawn with losing.  Without reflection and analysis of why I've lost so much in my life I could never achieve any level of success.  I'm a loser, sure, but I'm so much more than that.  I learn from my mistakes.  I learn when I get hurt.  I learn when I lose.  Most of all I apply everything I learn the next time I am confronted with a situation.

All there is left to ask is whether you could say the same about yourself.