My name is (redacted), and it's been almost a year since my last blog post.
I'm still here, which would no doubt shock a lot of people. It shocks me, to be honest.
I've been getting my life together, which is one of those things people say when they're on a journey, but have no idea how it all ends.
I do know I got to a point where I became aware of how much the things that were surrounding me were killing me. Social media, biased propagandistic fourth estate, utterly corrupt political class, uncaring corporate 'wealth for wealth's sake' money addicts, regular people I knew who never stopped to think how the way they conduct themselves might affect other people- pretty much the whole thing.
I withdrew (it's my super power). I stayed at home and didn't leave for weeks at a time. I got all my groceries delivered, I only left to go to the doctor or the hospital. More on that later. I stopped dating, to the extent that it's been 3 or 4 years since I've felt the touch of a woman. I'm not complaining- for the first time since I was a teenager I've been gifted the clarity of vision and experience without distortion through the lens of sex and the desire to attract women. And the more I moved away from caring what women think, or how to impress them, the better I've felt. Now if I do meet a woman, instead of putting them on a pedestal, I just see all the bullshit and delusion, all of the swallowed-wholesale indoctrination, the utter contempt for critical thinking or self knowledge.
Not all women, you understand. I'm sure there are some great and inspirational ones. But I'm not likely to meet them.
And so my independence has been fully realized, and I think it's safe to say I'm going through the rest of my life as a solo person, without sex or relationships. And as much as that used to terrify me, the reality is it's so freeing.
I had to go to hospital last year for an abdominal tear. I got the operation, then had to go back with complications. I ended up having a few metres of my digestive tract removed, which is worse than having my dick removed, as I actually use my digestive tract.
I don't have any vices, so eating lots of delicious food was my big joy in life. But part of my 'being honest with myself' deal, is being honest even when it's inconvenient to me. So I finally grew the courage to be honest with myself about my relationship to food, and decided to make my own mind up about what I ate, when, and how much. For the last 10 years or so I've been well into the obese category of the BMI for my height, which is 6'2". I guess it was easy to be in denial about it for so long, because up until about 3 years ago, I still had sexual attention from a lot of attractive women. But I noticed I was breathing heavy, and generally feeling awful, as well as the constant guilt after I'd eat a kilo of food or more. I had been drinking about 1.25 litres of cola every day for years, and I was disgusted with myself about it.
So I stuck to strict portion sizes, ate only healthy food, cut out sugar completely in all of its forms, and exercised my ass off (literally). I lost 35 kilograms in the second half of 2016, and now I weigh a very normal and healthy 78 kilograms, down from over 113. I feel a lot better physically, I wish I could do the same for my aching mind though.
All of that isolation, coupled with my increased awareness of all the bad things happening socially and politically here in Australia made me deeply sad. I'm already diagnosed bipolar, with PTSD, and suffer agonising anxiety problems, panic attacks, and massive social phobia. But my body decided all the stress was too much, and now it simply shuts down a lot. I have 3 types of epilepsy-type behaviour
-Loss of attention/loss of time, but still technically conscious. I 'go blank'.
-Loss of consciousness with seizures.
-Half in/half out, where if I'm walking I will just walk into traffic or into a wall, and keep standing in auto pilot, shuffling like a zombie, but in no way am I conscious of what's happening. Afterwards I feel like I do when I am returning from being totally unconscious.
It was too much to handle, because these were happening several times a day, and the exhaustion that resulted was completely debilitating. I went to my doctor and he sent me straight to the accident and emergency department of the hospital. It had been so long since I had communicated with anyone I didn't already know, that it really hit me how bad I had become.
I couldn't speak freely any more, my speech was halting and I stuttered uncontrollably. Some of you have met me in real life, so you can see what a stark contrast that is with who you have experienced. I felt like I was on thorazine, only the pain didn't go away.
A nurse came in to tell me a doctor would come see me as soon as one was free, and to "Hang in there, we're going to look after you." She put her hand on my shoulder, and I started crying, the first time in years. I hadn't been touched by another human being in so long, I'd forgotten what it was like, and the energy of her empathy streaming through her touch overwhelmed me entirely.
Pretty off the rails.
I was kept there overnight, meeting waves of doctors, and psych staff. They let me leave on the condition I saw their Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team every day. They were worried about my level of suicidal ideation, which surprised me, because that was my base level. I was told that's not normal, and I guess that made sense.
I saw a psychologist a few times a week for a few months, and found absolutely no solace or help in it. They're like telemarketers- they have a script with responses to whatever you say, and that's it. If you don't buy into 'living in denial about real issues in order to have a better (ignorant) quality of life', then they simply have nothing to offer. Making someone else rich while they give me nothing in return seems empty, so I stopped.
Previous to working as a security contractor/bodyguard, I used to make guitars for one of Australia's two biggest guitar companies. I went back for two weeks at the beginning of 2016, then had to quit as I was hospitalized for my abdominal problems. While I was there, it couldn't help but hit me in the face how much the place had changed in the 14 years since I first worked there- as one of the original 9 employees. It had become this soulless machine, existing not for making quality beautiful instruments, but money only.
People were taken advantage of, then discarded. The working conditions were terrible, no one was appreciated, and ideas were discouraged. It was a true factory, making high quality, soulless guitars.
That's not right.
And I determined as a way to improve my mental health, to start making my own guitars, completely independently for the first time. Sure, I've knocked out a few by myself before, but nothing with commercial aspirations.
It was really important to me to have a relationship with each piece of wood that I crafted- not to ram it through a bunch of uninspired workers and slap it together like they do.
The first thing I noticed as I started doing it was how incredibly hard it is. People have no idea how much goes into the making of a guitar by hand. And even though I technically knew, the real-world physical implementation of all of that knowledge still blew my mind.
Still being bipolar depressive, getting the motivation to start every day was intensely hard, and some days I had to just admit that 'Today is not the day", put the tools down, and try again tomorrow. Some days that fog wouldn't lift for a week. But I stayed with it.
Still suffering from crushing anxiety every day, the fear was something I did not expect, and was not ready for. Every upcoming process, like making a scarf joint for a neck for example, or hand making a custom pickup, left me feeling more scared than any human person has ever made me feel. I would get shut down by the fear, unable to find a way past it to simply start the process.
Someone I really enjoy is Mr Adam Savage, who you might now from the show Mythbusters. He has a YouTube channel and website called Tested.com, where you get to see behind the scenes with him in his world. He makes all types of things, from all types of materials, and his knowledge of manufacturing/maker processes is staggering. So in short, he's a guy who knows his onions, and produces world-class work.
I had an epiphany watching Adam, because he would run into problems pretty regularly, and he'd do things that I never thought he would do- make huge mistakes. And instead of feeling suicidal, he would go home early, have a hot shower and a cup of tea or something, and just try again tomorrow. To see someone I looked up to so much was going through some of the same things as I did was so validating, and it changed my life.
So I forced myself to work through my fears, to forgive me mistakes, and more than anything- to just keep on truckin'. And the result is here (opens in a new window).
I have decided to call my business Temple Guitars, and have been in talks with guys from some amazing bands from Europe and the States who are into endorsing my guitars internationally.
I'm still struggling with being a person, living in this fucked up time in history, with all this baggage I carry. But I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and trying to find support in my friends (and to nurture those relationships, and give them regular time and effort), and seeking out the beauty in the world, to balance out all the hateful static.
This is me, January 2017-
I hope you're doing ok.
I'm still here, which would no doubt shock a lot of people. It shocks me, to be honest.
I've been getting my life together, which is one of those things people say when they're on a journey, but have no idea how it all ends.
I do know I got to a point where I became aware of how much the things that were surrounding me were killing me. Social media, biased propagandistic fourth estate, utterly corrupt political class, uncaring corporate 'wealth for wealth's sake' money addicts, regular people I knew who never stopped to think how the way they conduct themselves might affect other people- pretty much the whole thing.
I withdrew (it's my super power). I stayed at home and didn't leave for weeks at a time. I got all my groceries delivered, I only left to go to the doctor or the hospital. More on that later. I stopped dating, to the extent that it's been 3 or 4 years since I've felt the touch of a woman. I'm not complaining- for the first time since I was a teenager I've been gifted the clarity of vision and experience without distortion through the lens of sex and the desire to attract women. And the more I moved away from caring what women think, or how to impress them, the better I've felt. Now if I do meet a woman, instead of putting them on a pedestal, I just see all the bullshit and delusion, all of the swallowed-wholesale indoctrination, the utter contempt for critical thinking or self knowledge.
Not all women, you understand. I'm sure there are some great and inspirational ones. But I'm not likely to meet them.
And so my independence has been fully realized, and I think it's safe to say I'm going through the rest of my life as a solo person, without sex or relationships. And as much as that used to terrify me, the reality is it's so freeing.
I had to go to hospital last year for an abdominal tear. I got the operation, then had to go back with complications. I ended up having a few metres of my digestive tract removed, which is worse than having my dick removed, as I actually use my digestive tract.
I don't have any vices, so eating lots of delicious food was my big joy in life. But part of my 'being honest with myself' deal, is being honest even when it's inconvenient to me. So I finally grew the courage to be honest with myself about my relationship to food, and decided to make my own mind up about what I ate, when, and how much. For the last 10 years or so I've been well into the obese category of the BMI for my height, which is 6'2". I guess it was easy to be in denial about it for so long, because up until about 3 years ago, I still had sexual attention from a lot of attractive women. But I noticed I was breathing heavy, and generally feeling awful, as well as the constant guilt after I'd eat a kilo of food or more. I had been drinking about 1.25 litres of cola every day for years, and I was disgusted with myself about it.
So I stuck to strict portion sizes, ate only healthy food, cut out sugar completely in all of its forms, and exercised my ass off (literally). I lost 35 kilograms in the second half of 2016, and now I weigh a very normal and healthy 78 kilograms, down from over 113. I feel a lot better physically, I wish I could do the same for my aching mind though.
All of that isolation, coupled with my increased awareness of all the bad things happening socially and politically here in Australia made me deeply sad. I'm already diagnosed bipolar, with PTSD, and suffer agonising anxiety problems, panic attacks, and massive social phobia. But my body decided all the stress was too much, and now it simply shuts down a lot. I have 3 types of epilepsy-type behaviour
-Loss of attention/loss of time, but still technically conscious. I 'go blank'.
-Loss of consciousness with seizures.
-Half in/half out, where if I'm walking I will just walk into traffic or into a wall, and keep standing in auto pilot, shuffling like a zombie, but in no way am I conscious of what's happening. Afterwards I feel like I do when I am returning from being totally unconscious.
It was too much to handle, because these were happening several times a day, and the exhaustion that resulted was completely debilitating. I went to my doctor and he sent me straight to the accident and emergency department of the hospital. It had been so long since I had communicated with anyone I didn't already know, that it really hit me how bad I had become.
I couldn't speak freely any more, my speech was halting and I stuttered uncontrollably. Some of you have met me in real life, so you can see what a stark contrast that is with who you have experienced. I felt like I was on thorazine, only the pain didn't go away.
A nurse came in to tell me a doctor would come see me as soon as one was free, and to "Hang in there, we're going to look after you." She put her hand on my shoulder, and I started crying, the first time in years. I hadn't been touched by another human being in so long, I'd forgotten what it was like, and the energy of her empathy streaming through her touch overwhelmed me entirely.
Pretty off the rails.
I was kept there overnight, meeting waves of doctors, and psych staff. They let me leave on the condition I saw their Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team every day. They were worried about my level of suicidal ideation, which surprised me, because that was my base level. I was told that's not normal, and I guess that made sense.
I saw a psychologist a few times a week for a few months, and found absolutely no solace or help in it. They're like telemarketers- they have a script with responses to whatever you say, and that's it. If you don't buy into 'living in denial about real issues in order to have a better (ignorant) quality of life', then they simply have nothing to offer. Making someone else rich while they give me nothing in return seems empty, so I stopped.
Previous to working as a security contractor/bodyguard, I used to make guitars for one of Australia's two biggest guitar companies. I went back for two weeks at the beginning of 2016, then had to quit as I was hospitalized for my abdominal problems. While I was there, it couldn't help but hit me in the face how much the place had changed in the 14 years since I first worked there- as one of the original 9 employees. It had become this soulless machine, existing not for making quality beautiful instruments, but money only.
People were taken advantage of, then discarded. The working conditions were terrible, no one was appreciated, and ideas were discouraged. It was a true factory, making high quality, soulless guitars.
That's not right.
And I determined as a way to improve my mental health, to start making my own guitars, completely independently for the first time. Sure, I've knocked out a few by myself before, but nothing with commercial aspirations.
It was really important to me to have a relationship with each piece of wood that I crafted- not to ram it through a bunch of uninspired workers and slap it together like they do.
The first thing I noticed as I started doing it was how incredibly hard it is. People have no idea how much goes into the making of a guitar by hand. And even though I technically knew, the real-world physical implementation of all of that knowledge still blew my mind.
Still being bipolar depressive, getting the motivation to start every day was intensely hard, and some days I had to just admit that 'Today is not the day", put the tools down, and try again tomorrow. Some days that fog wouldn't lift for a week. But I stayed with it.
Still suffering from crushing anxiety every day, the fear was something I did not expect, and was not ready for. Every upcoming process, like making a scarf joint for a neck for example, or hand making a custom pickup, left me feeling more scared than any human person has ever made me feel. I would get shut down by the fear, unable to find a way past it to simply start the process.
Someone I really enjoy is Mr Adam Savage, who you might now from the show Mythbusters. He has a YouTube channel and website called Tested.com, where you get to see behind the scenes with him in his world. He makes all types of things, from all types of materials, and his knowledge of manufacturing/maker processes is staggering. So in short, he's a guy who knows his onions, and produces world-class work.
I had an epiphany watching Adam, because he would run into problems pretty regularly, and he'd do things that I never thought he would do- make huge mistakes. And instead of feeling suicidal, he would go home early, have a hot shower and a cup of tea or something, and just try again tomorrow. To see someone I looked up to so much was going through some of the same things as I did was so validating, and it changed my life.
So I forced myself to work through my fears, to forgive me mistakes, and more than anything- to just keep on truckin'. And the result is here (opens in a new window).
I have decided to call my business Temple Guitars, and have been in talks with guys from some amazing bands from Europe and the States who are into endorsing my guitars internationally.
I'm still struggling with being a person, living in this fucked up time in history, with all this baggage I carry. But I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and trying to find support in my friends (and to nurture those relationships, and give them regular time and effort), and seeking out the beauty in the world, to balance out all the hateful static.
This is me, January 2017-
I hope you're doing ok.
