I've been really struggling lately with quite a few things, and to if I can be completely fucking honest it's driving me to the brink of insanity!  I mean, to be certain, I definitely have "hoisted my own petard(you can look this up)."  I have an addictive personality, to say the very least.  What puzzles me is why can I not be addicted to things like: mountain biking, fly fishing, weight training, ultra-marathons, triathlons or Spartan races?  They all probably achieve the desired result of wanting to change the way I feel, right?  Instead, I'm the guys that for some reason or another chooses the destructive vices: booze(although I've been sober for 11 years), cigarettes, weed, binge eating ice cream or donuts...the list goes on and I'm sure you can imagine other things that help change the way you feel.  I constantly ask myself "Why, why, why!?!"  Or the question that many of us may ask at one point or another "Am I really that fucked?"  Sometimes it's not even a question, it's more of a realization. So why?  Character defects?  Got 'em.  Flaws or flawed thinking.  Have that too.  I'm not a psychologist or therapist, so I can't offer any diagnosis.  However, I can offer theory on my own personal story.  Mind you this is more an attempt for me to understand myself than anything.

I think from an early age there were a couple of things that could be pointed to as a starting point.  So in my family I am the baby: brother is 10 1/2 years older and sister is 8.  So, not only was I the baby but I was the baby by quite a few years.  In my extended family, I was also the youngest(I don't know if that really matters as much) born from the oldest daughter in the family.  Why I feel it's important I can't really say, but it always seems like there's something about the oldest and the youngest in families.  In any case, I remember a lot of the time being the center of attention.  Like when I would perform YMCA for my sister and her cheer leading friends, I loved the attention!  That's one example that sticks out.  So the formation of the performer or people-pleaser started at a very early age.  As I look back and reflect I can see that my life is littered with almost exactly the same behavior over and over and over again.  Who the fuck cares and what does this have to do with flaws of character or self-destructive choices?  I'm not sure, but I'll keep writing my stream of thought and see if we can get to a conclusion at some point.

I liked the feeling produced by being the performer!  I loved the feeling I got from being the little cute kid that everyone adored and doted on!  I loved and longed for your approval!  Not to be overly cliché, but I was like the little dog that did tricks to get treats and affection from its owners.  Did I develop my addictive personality traits at that point?  I'm not sure.  What I do know is that I made lots of choices after that based on wanting to feel good.  Selfish and self-centered with little regard for others.  I never thought about that or even examined that until I was in my 30's and getting sober.  The other thing I wanted was to fit in and I needed to be liked.  Period.  That was difficult for someone like me.

The want and desire to fit in, be liked and approval seeking could be, for me, what has led to the most difficult times in life.  I became a chameleon able to play almost any role that I needed to.  That came at a cost.  Let me back up a second.  I have a core group of friends that have known each other, some of us, since elementary school and remained friends now into our 40's.  If you asked them they would tell you that we were all on the same level, but although I was "one of the boys," I would say that I always felt like an outsider...yes, even with my best and closest friends.  I feel like I need to preface this.  I grew up in Belmont Shore which is a very nice part of Long Beach and my family wasn't poor by any stretch.  Among my friends I would have been the "poor kid."  At least that's what if felt like, if that makes sense.  I never felt cool enough or smart enough or good enough.  I can't point to a time in particular that made me feel like that, but I knew at some point it was important for me to make myself appear better than I was.  Can you imagine walking around with all of that in your head?  Again, I didn't examine this until I was stripping away the numbing elixirs and medicinal herbs I so loved.  It created patterns and habits that I still, sometimes, cling onto as my last fucking breath depends on them.  Lying or omitting to make myself look better in the eyes of others because I needed to fit in or be accepted.  Or pretending to be something that I wasn't  or like something that you liked because I wanted you to think I was cool.  I guess lots of kids do that, but you are supposed to grow out it, I think.  Fuck man, why is life easy for some and not for others?

In my case, the struggle is real.  As an adult I still battle with my flaws and vices.  I still want to change the way I feel.  I still want to be accepted by people who I consider peers.  I still want to avoid the pain of failure.  With that, sometimes I give up or quit.  Other times I don't even try, and yet others I will cover up or not tell the real truth because I don't want people to see the real me.  Why?  Because I fear that if you know the real me you won't like me.  At 44, almost 45, years old I shouldn't care what people think of me and just be myself, right?  The problem there is that having spent some many years covering up, hiding and shape shifting I'm still working on figuring that out.  I'll keep working at it until I do.  It's never too late...

**I bet you're still thinking about the quote from the beginning of the post "hoisted my own petard," aren't you?  I may have paraphrased, however the original quote is from a speech in Shakespeare's Hamlet.  A petard is a small bomb and the phrase means to be blown up by your own bomb.  We all may have been guilty of that at one time or another.