Every situation is different, but our reactions and coping mechanisms are consistently applied the same unless we learn to do something different.  When we are angry or frustrated (and I mean frustrated in the sense of being stuck and incapable of having what you want or effecting the result you want to happen) we turn to familiar patterns of behaviour that often involve suppression, internalization and/or redirection.

If you haven’t noticed, using ‘we’ is a clever way of taking the direct attention off me and my feelings.  I am pissed.  I am angry.  And I know that if I don’t put this somewhere and express the anger in its pure form, I will suppress, internalize and redirect.  Blame has been a favourite coping mechanism of mine (including self-blame).  I will get back to that.

Right now I will start by saying I am angry because I always seem to fall for someone or find myself attracted to someone who in no way feels the same back.  You can imagine that is 100% frustrating…and now the pattern of rejection is becoming exhausting.  I have no problem with crushes.   They are fun and bring the exciting butterflies.  But as Florence says: “Falling’s not the problem, when I am falling I am in peace; it’s only when I hit the ground, it causes all the grief”.

What makes me especially angry is the cowardice of people who become aware of my feelings and who lack the courage and conviction to tell me in return: “Sorry, I am not interested”.   They’d much prefer using the grapevine of mutual friends or polite excuses to communicate what they thinking and feeling.  Why should I have to play 20 questions and take a hint? Be honest.  Be clear.  And be direct.

I know I am not inadequate.  And I know people do not click.  You’re talking to someone who utters this every other day in counselling young people on similar issues.  That’s the cruel irony of life.  Many young people turn to me as an expert on the human condition, including dating and relationships.  I am the worst person to give advice on this topic.  Frankly, I suck in this department.  Everything I do is so logical and measured that I end of thinking way too much and, embarrassingly, doing too much. Hence this explosive entry.  I care WAY too much about this.  Yet, I need to put the anger somewhere.  I struggle enough with anxiety and I have found venting frustration in its pure form has been far more therapeutic than waiting for the panic and nervousness to set in, which happens so far down the road that I can’t remember the real source and deal with the symptoms instead.

I mentioned blame as one of my favourite coping mechanisms.  There is definitely examples scattered throughout this entry.  I have learned that blame and self-blame are how we dispense with anger without feeling its full effects.  We are so uncomfortable with sitting with the anger that we either suppress or redirect it through blame.  Brene Brown has inspired me a great deal in dealing with this patterned behaviour of mine.

We all fear a loss of connection and the embarrassment of imperfection.  Like smoke and mirrors, we use blame to create distractions from the vulnerable position of feeling imperfect and disconnected.  We play like we are not at fault for what has happened, because that would mean we are imperfect.  Then there is also the case when we blame ourselves.  Blaming ourselves leaves us with the impression control lies squarely in our hands.  Everything happened because of something I did and if I do something different (or if I apologize profusely), things will be made better.  We are uncomfortable being ‘out of control’ or knowing that lost connection happened outside the sphere of our influence.

I am awkward.  I come on too strong.  But I care a great fucking deal about people.  I have seen dear friends through some of the darkest times of their lives and have so much love to give.  I see my personal discrepancies from the norm and I am working very, very fucking hard to embrace them.

Tonight I am angry that I still struggle to embrace myself wholeheartedly and continue to turn to the old habit of blame.  I feel stupid for having put myself out there and for being so god damn vulnerable without the confidence to stand there exposed.  Take me for who I am, not who I could be.  I am fucking awesome.

Their loss they’d tell me.  Fine.  Maybe.  Right now I lost because I let yet another person shake the strong foundation I am trying to build and rock the core of my incredible spirit and soul.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

25 years ago, if you asked someone in their twenties “what do you want to be when you grow up”, they’d likely laugh or look at your perplexed and say: “But I am grown up.”  Today that’s not the case.  Instead, we’ve been raised with the idea that it’s never too late to change your mind, you can have what you want and you SHOULD pursue what truly makes you happy.  Young people are encouraged to take several years to experiment.  Spend thousands of dollars on tuition…or travel to far off lands…but never settle or grow up too soon, because you’ll miss out on YOUR life.  That’s the new mantra.  And while I think there is some merit to this (I am not a complete cynic!), I find there is something very self-destructive about this new zeitgeist.  Young people will build something up and when a tinge of dissatisfaction strikes them, they’ll begin to think “this is not what I want, I should be happy, I should be free to live and experience everything I want” and they will tear it all apart and being anew again.

Where I see this dissatisfaction arise the most is when young people exit school and find themselves in their job.  Because we are told we CAN have what we want and consumerism promises immediate gratification, we expect that our job will be amazing right off the bat — as with our salary.  People land a career and expect they will be where they want to be immediately (when reasonably that wouldn’t happen until 10 years on the job).  We’ve become afraid to invest our time and do the grunt work that will pay off in the long run, because out twenties are precious and therefore cannot be squandered or wasted.   Missing out or losing the twenties too soon has made many adverse to putting in the hard work it will take to have the lives our parents created for us growing up.  We’re afraid to invest the valuable years of our twenties and, therefore, will put it off until…30…35..even 40.

Pop culture is an easy target for this Jungian collective thought and is not entirely to blame.  But seriously, if you look at the movies and the lifestyles they portray, audiences are enamoured instantaneously with the middle to upper class houses, family life and personal experiences of the characters without ever being shown how HARD those people must work to have that life.  That back story has slowly become irrelevant.   Disbelief has not been entirely suspended, though.   As an audience, we still need to know their job to accept that life.  So and so lead character must at least be a doctor, lawyer, business exec or some other top earner for us to believe they can have that life.  We don’t always need to see the personal sacrifices that it takes or the years of hard, mundane work to get to that point.  That’s not pretty or attractive.  Nor does it fit the zeitgeist of the late adolescence.  And so, many build the dream of becoming a doctor because of its promise of a pretty life, yet at the same time underestimate the hard work, periods of isolation and unhappiness required to get there, thusly backing off in shock when they are finally doing what it takes to BE a doctor.

Unfortunately, without that back story or representation of hard work, we’ve forgotten what it looks like or what it takes to have some of the things we want — including the nice house, fancy trips and lovely family.

This article seems to be making a broad sweeping generalization across all twenty-somethings.  That’s not what I want to suggest here, because I know many people in their twenties who have children, float houses and maintain the adult responsibilities many others are desperately trying to forgo.  I am not trying to erase the individual experience here; however, I AM trying to pinpoint a sentiment that lies at the heart of a growing number of young people who are unhappy, anxious, depressed, and who are unfortunately delaying growing up out of fear (me being one of them).

Life takes work.  And our work does not define us — work to live, not live to work.  But to have the life in the movies (if you idealize and aspire to that, which is completely fine), you need to work very hard and put in your time.  Nothing happens overnight and we are not guaranteed anything because of an expensive piece of paper (degree).  In time my friends, we’ll get there.  Yet, that journey requires some sacrifice and an investment of our precious twenty-something time.  There is nothing to be alarmed about.  If you lower your expectations of time and your twenties, those personal sacrifices will not seem so arduous and daunting.  The smaller moments will be fulfilling and enriching, and you’ll still feel like you’ve held on to some of your youth.

You are young and you’ve got greater stamina.  You, the twenty-something, can put in a long work day and still have the energy to play at night or on the weekends…or even for that hour you get on lunch.  Just because you must work, does not mean you have to give it all up.  And you will be unhappy at times in your job and there will be days when you wake up and say “this is shit”, but then you’ll find that passes and the low moments will be rewarded with highs.

The hardest thing in life is being afraid to commit to what you want not making that decision.  Pick something, set it firm and give it a chance.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

Hi my beautiful sisters.

Well, it’s been far too long since we have all been in the same place together.  Seeing Deb and Jen earlier this week made me realize how much I miss you all so MUCH and how quickly time has passed since our last visit.   I am definitely one of the luckiest guys in the world — to have such a special and unique relationship with each one of you.  Some look at me with astonishment when they hear I have 5 sisters.  And it is to those people who I continually brag about the incredible family life I lead, rich with love and wisdom from 5 very remarkable women.

You might be wondering why I am sending a group email gushing with love.  Well, the thing is, I have something that I need to share with you before anyone else.  Because of your undying love and support for me over these years, I feel it important to turn to you now.  I equally respect and value our relationship as siblings, and cannot keep anything from you.

There is no easy way for me to express this — my hands are shaking nervously while typing each letter of each sentence.  With that said…I want you all to know that I am gay.  But it’s a little more complicated than that, because I also find myself attracted to women, including before, during and after my relationship with M.  In the end, I find it a lot easier explaining my sexuality to myself and to you by identifying as gay.    Some would say I am bisexual and others would say I am questioning…I just hate labels altogether, since they simplify my life into a category.

This is not an easy thing to reveal.  And, for some, it may not be an easy thing to hear.  I wanted to send this through email so you all have time to let this information sink in and process.  For others, I am sure this comes at no surprise;  I have never been the typical guy who objectifies and/or chases after women (I think that makes me pretty awesome).

I am telling you because I am finally in a place where I feel quite confident and independent all on my own.  I know that I can build a life with or without the love and support of some people, especially those who cannot accept this about me.  You all mean a great deal to me and it pains me to imagine a life without you; however, I know for many reasons this is might be something you cannot accept.  That is a choice for you to make, and not one I have made or caused because I came out to you today.  Just know that I’ll always love you and be there for you — no matter what happens and what choice you make as result of me sharing this today

You have all loved me so dearly.  I have gained a tremendous amount of confidence and strength growing up in your company.  I go forward with one wicked personality because of my amazing childhood filled with nintendo playing with T., American Idol auditions with M., singing Colorblind at a deafening pitch with E., co-directing our first feature film with J., and, finally, laughing my ass off with Mike and Ike, and D.

You’ve all helped me strive to be the best person possible by giving compassion to this world.  I will always have a heart full of your love…and now a little more confidence, because I felt safe enough to share this with you now.

I love you.

xoxo

Broder

“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~Rumi

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

Now…enjoy this Panda.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

Part of my incentive to start a blog that was all about the lighter side of life came from a recent relationship — no, a fleeting moment — with a very complicated man who indulged in his own self-awareness, introspection, and felt it important enough to share them with the entire world around him.  Being tuned into yourself has its perks, but also serious cons — the largest being learned helplessness and victimization.  What I mean is: being told our own feelings (and being aware of them) is so important, leads to the feeling that all negative experiences are a huge injustice.  Every moment requires analysis and unpacking, which in turn leads to taking everything so seriously that any or all chances of humour are lost and the taken-for-grantedness of life is affirmed.

Introspection has the potential to turn the present into a tragedy based on the experiences of the past and a fear or uncertainty of the future.

As such, I am aware the this story has the markings of the above criticized introspection; however, the following is not a cry for pity.  I am quite happy behind my guarded walls.  That conviction came to me after I spoke with a new friend about his failing relationship…

I have spent a great deal of time talking with him about his predicament and counselling him on possible courses of action.  Everything reached a peak when this friend called me late Thursday evening, in tears over the reaction his girlfriend had to a heartfelt letter he had written for her.  She accused him of nagging, which completely overlooked his true feelings.  Distraught he told me that he does not think he’ll ever find someone who’ll love him and that he’ll always be the one to get hurt.  He wished that he could build better walls to keep people out.

“Building walls is certainly an appealing option”, I told him, “but its taking that risk which is more likely to lead you to love in the end.  Love is not found behind the safety and shelter of a fortress, but in the open where all can see your brilliance”.  I continued to tell him how living life behind the wall seems ideal, but it too is a cross to bear and not for everyone.  Saying this, I realized he and I were standing on opposite sides of this proverbial boundary.

He me realize letting go has never been a problem for me, but holding on.

Fleeting feelings have come and gone, but I’ve always learned to let go and move forward.

It’s not so bad.  But I would not advertise it for everyone — including the heartbroken friend or self-indulgent ex-lover.  Some people need to put themselves out there.  A few need to appear helpless — the hurt and victimized.  Others need to know they are special through the love of another.   Both hurt so much when faced with the prospect of letting go.  And both experience love like no other…to its fullest and most passionate extent.

I know one day I’ll hold on.  I look forward to it.

For now, I’ll stay on my side of the fence and watch the other kids playing with love.  I will be there when they fall and scrape their knee, and need someone to take care and bandage their wounds.

I’ll show them how to let go…and maybe they’ll tell me how to take hold.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

Today I am going to try and bring it back to life.  The little sucker has gone belly up and needs some new energy to bring it back from beyond.   To tell you the truth, my life has been eventful, and yet uneventful at the same time.  Since I last wrote, I have decided to run away from school.  For the last 8 months, I felt an alien took over my body and carried me through the motions of a life full of anxiety, depression, and one constantly fixed on the future.  I was running on auto-pilot as flashes of life passed by: my little twin niece and nephew babbled, crawled and then walked; my sister ran a daycare, stressed and managed a family without her brothers loving guidance; a good friend in Guelph braved a new chapter in her journey while I tucked myself away in a cubicle.

In the end my little blog can be read as a reflection of my life.  I began this venture, because I love to write, and through writing I find a way to release thoughts and feelings, which I am too inarticulate to express through spoken word.  The blog became a method of self-care — the journal exercise favored so heavily by all therapists under the sun.  Well, time passed and I spiraled into — borrowing from Neko Case’s brilliant album title — the middle cyclone of my life.  Things began to spin faster and faster as I slowly lifted off the ground and lost touch with those I loved and, as cheesy as this sounds, myself.  Paying little attention to my blog was a way for me to ignore what I needed, what I yearned for, and the feelings lying deep down desperate for acknowledgment.

Because I have not made this blog entry cliche or cheesy enough, I feel it’s necessary to add one more thing.  2 months into my decision to leave school, I find myself falling more in love with myself everyday.  Not in the narcassistic, stare-at-the-mirror-for-hours kind of way.  But it a way that takes my focus off the unguaranteed future and fixes my gaze here and now.   I find myself searching for the moments in the present that will connect me to others, which brings me a pure sense of happiness and confidence in return.

There are no guarantees.  Life is scary and unpredictable.  But living is also incredibly fun(ny).  My heart breaks for those who have not had the courage to face their fears or alien possessors who keep them on auto-pilot.   One day I hope you’ll come back from beyond…

In the meantime, I am going to perform mouth-to-mouth on my little blog fish, maybe change the water and FINALLY update that bloody filter.  It’s time to pour fresh water into this tank — oh heck, this life — I am living in.

Let it ride,

topherbecrazy

The wise professor responded without hesitation but with certainty as he walked away: “No…never”.  He then went into his office, closed the door and returned to the work that consumed him.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy

That’s what I was thinking when I took this photo. I was caught in a serene moment of stillness and reflection as I stepped off the path to snap the shot, which caused me to overlook the fact that my shoes were slowly sinking into the muddy grass of Trinity Bellwood Park post spring melt. There was also the mangey squirrel eating out of the trash can to my left. And the screaming child in the stroller.

Oh, Toronto…your inner cityscapes and escapes are so splendid. But regardless…you are always there xo

It’s no secret to those who know me well that I think Lady Gaga is pretty awesome.  Despite what some may think, she is more than a cookie cutout and manufactured — as she would have it — fame monster.  Her image is all her own: a hybrid form of Andy Warhol and many other pop art predecessors — deliberate and self-reflexive style.  Before you fall off your chair, sofa or toilet seat laughing at my Gaga parade, I am not here to write an entry defending Lady Gaga.  Neither she nor I take her that seriously.

Lady Gaga is relevant to this story because I was out for a good friend’s birthday, and her music came up in the group conversation.  Many mutually agreed that she was pretty awesome.  One person in particular shared my enthusiasm, but ended her remarks with quite an odd statement: “Yeah her music is great, and her style — despite that whole talk of her being part of the new world order bullshit”.  Instinctively my head titled a little to the side and my face grimaced, similar to when you hear your friend likes to knit rainbow coloured ponchos or your mother wants to take up belly dancing; it is the kind of face you make when you hear something so absurd that you are more uncomfortably awkward than hilariously entertained.

Since then all I can think about while listening to Lady Gaga is her music is filled with subliminal messaging.  What she could be hiding underneath her lyrics escapes me: maybe we are all being indoctrinated with a love for rhinestones.  If that is the new world order…we’re doomed.

Thank you party goer for making me question the Haus of Gaga.  So what if she is slowly enslaving our minds to build some super campy army!  At least we’ll all look ridiculous, and the crackpots who came up with these theories will likely — and finally — fit right in.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy.

When we were together, the future was a constant topic of conversation — and argument.  She was so certain, and I persistently in doubt.  Each conversation would reveal how different we were and how unlikely our futures were going to develop on the same path.  I was probably one of the first things in her life that turned out opposite to her expectations.

Shortly after the detour, she met someone and they were married soon after.  That was a shock, because she so quickly leaped into commitment.  We all talked about her engagement and referred back to the notion raised at the beginning of this post: she has always wanted this.  I could accept that.  Sure, there was a moment where I thought: she always wanted marriage and it did not matter who brought it to her; however, I quickly challenged that line of thinking and assured myself that she was genuinely happy with him.

Then the latest news came: she’s pregnant.  A month and a half after they were married, she is pregnant.  Perhaps I am not a romantic, and cannot understand how someone could meet someone, date for 3 months, marry, and then get pregnant — all in less than a year of having known each other.  Whoa.

I should not question her motives or her intentions.  But the person she has become is quite different than the individual I had late night conversations/arguments with over the future.  She would tell me that being married for a couple years before having children was the most ideal course of action.  The couple would have time to bond as a couple before children changed things for a long time.

Let me say first that I am quite happy for her.  I’ll spin this broken record one more time and say: she is happy and this is what she always wanted.  Yet, I cannot help feeling a little duped.   She always knew what she wanted, and I feel like during those conversations — when our anxieties and realizations of our ill-fated relationship came to the fore — she told me what I wanted to hear so that I would eventually give her what she wanted.

Love is a funny thing.  Love is the feeling of security.  She loved me because I brought her the prospect of being a wife and mother.

The guilt I felt for breaking her heart has slightly dissipated.  We were together for a long time.  I certainly let her down; however, she told me what I wanted to hear, because she was too afraid to say what she really wanted and who she really was.  If she was honest with me (easier said than done), maybe it would not have gone that far or for that long.  Time may have been wasted then, but now she is being honest and she is finally getting what she wants.

I just wish she would have been honest with me.

Let it ride,

Topher be crazy