You’re Missing Out If You Don’t Read This

man wearing pink polo shirt with text overlay
Hurry now! Or you’ll miss out on…giving me your money! Or something…

Did that subject line get your attention and make you want to read this post?

Something I’ve noticed on Twitter lately, at least with a lot of the people that I follow.

They are good persuaders.

Young and older guys that I hope are making a killing at selling whatever it is that they are selling.

Good for them if they are.

I got sort of a problem with it all to a degree though.

As I’m getting older, I’ve come to realize that I don’t really want for much. My bills are paid. I’ve got a little extra in the bank (nothing spectacular, nothing that would carry me for the rest of my life, but enough to tide me over in the event that I got fired or decided to quit at the last moment without having something lined up.)

I have all the toys that I could ever want or need.

I’ve got more books, digital and paper, than I will ever read in this lifetime.

Got a decent home. (Nothing fancy, but it has enough space for me, my shit, and two cats.)

What I want for in my life, at least right now, is some quiet. A little peace. Not that my life is filled with strife, chaos, and drama, because it’s not. I designed my life that way.

Getting back to the guys on Twitter, and even some of the email lists that I’m on, how do I know they are good persuaders? Because of FOMO.

If you don’t know what FOMO is, it’s Fear Of Missing Out. I didn’t know what the hell it was when I saw somebody mention it, so I had to go and look it up.

These guys are so good at what they are doing that they even had me convinced that I was Missing Out. Missing out on a great opportunity. Missing out on a great price. Missing out on….whatever.

Christ, I felt like a ten peckered owl trying to get laid.

There’s a guy on Twitter, right now (at least the last time I checked anyways) named Dean Abbott. He’s writing about what he’s calling The Quiet Life.

Sounds good to me.

Maybe if you are young and are just starting out in life, the Quiet Life isn’t for you. I get that. It sure as hell wasn’t for me when I was in my late teen’s and through all of my twenties and even into my early 30’s.

But now….

You know what I want to do?

I want to smoke a good cigar and sit on my deck and watch the sunset. I want to listen to the rain fall.

You know what I don’t want to do?

Feel like I’m Missing Out.

Because really I’m not.

And neither are you.

The course that is for $XX.XX? It may go up in a few days or weeks or whatever. It may not. It may go away forever. That’s okay too. I was okay before that course hit my awareness, I’ll be okay long after it is gone.

Same with whatever book is being sold. Or seminar. Or webinar. Or conference. There’s a couple of conferences coming up later this year that I would like to attend, but time and money….

Mostly time. Money I can make.

While I’m sure that I would get some great experiences and whatnot from these conferences, meh.

I was fine before they came along, I’ll be fine after they are gone.

If any of you guys follow anything in the Manosphere and in particular, the Red Pill, (which I’m sure most, if not all of you are familiar with both) you hear a lot of talk about Unplugging.

Unplugging from “blue pill” ideals. Unplugging from the gynocentric society that we live in. I’m pretty sure you all know what I’m talking about.

But what about unplugging from being sold something?

I’ve been “unplugging” for a few years from the blue pill ideals and I’ve never had any regrets and have never looked back. And yet I find myself still “plugged in” when it comes to FOMO and certain persuasion “tactics” and sales pitches.

Do I think they are “wrong?” Not at all. For the guys who are selling, like I said earlier, good for them. I hope they make a killing and get everything they desire.

But do I want to hear it all the time? Especially knowing that if I don’t pay careful attention to what they are saying and how they are saying it, I’ll end up with a big case of FOMO, a lighter wallet, and a bunch of stuff I may not actually need?

No. I don’t want that.

I want The Quiet Life.

The only thing I want to be persuaded on right now is that cigar, a smooth drink, some good company (maybe one or more of you guys?) and a good sunset.

We could talk about all sorts of shit. We could talk about nothing at all. And it would be good by me.

Getting caught up in the hype will make you miss out on one thing though:

Your Life.

Keep that in mind.

 

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Argue For Your Limitations And They’re Yours

thinking environment depressed depression

When I was 21 I was diagnosed with clinical depression. What got me to that diagnosis was a phone call to a counseling hotline. I was suicidal at that time and was considering eating a shotgun shell. I figured that if I was going to kill myself, I would do the job right the first time. I didn’t want to somehow screw things up and end up a vegetable or some other state of being.

I had to make a promise to the woman that I talked to on the phone that I wouldn’t kill myself over the weekend since I couldn’t see a shrink until the following Monday.

I still find that one bizarre. “I promise I won’t kill myself until at least after the weekend and only after I have had a chance to talk to somebody face to face.” Bizarre, but it worked, because, hey! Here I am!

Anyways, I go to the shrink on the following Monday, she asks me a bunch of questions and has me fill out some forms and what not, and by the end of it all, she diagnosed me with clinical depression. I fit something like 7 out of the 8 or 9 criteria.

She talks to me about my suicidal thoughts. I was pretty serious. I had a plan. I had the motive and the means. The only thing I hadn’t done was decided on the day and the time that I was going to kill myself. I knew it was soon, maybe a week or two at the most.

She then tells me that she doesn’t think that she can help me. She believed that what I needed was a psychiatrist, and she was only a psychologist. The difference between a psychiatrist and psychologist for those that don’t know is that both of them can make a diagnosis and can talk about different treatments and ideas, but only a psychiatrist can prescribe medication. Psychologists cannot.

This psychologist felt that in my current state that I needed to get on medication.

I begged to differ.

Even back then, I knew that medication, at least for me, wasn’t the answer, and I told her this. I told her all the medication would do is mask the symptoms but wouldn’t get down to the problems that I was having.

Basically I had negative thoughts about myself and I had “forgotten where the volume knob was,” I couldn’t “turn the radio off.”

That’s how I described what was going on inside my head. All of the negative shit that I had created for myself, I forgot where the “off switch” was, and it was running as a loop in the background constantly. Even in my sleep.

That’s part of why I wanted to kill myself. To just shut that noise up and have some peace and quiet.

I made a deal with her that day. I wanted to try things my way first. That meant talking about what was going on, trying some different things out, different ways of thinking, maybe writing some things down, digging down deep. If we both didn’t start seeing some results in after a couple of months or so, I would then take her advice and go see a psychiatrist and get on medication if necessary.

She agreed and we got to work.

I learned a lot about myself during my sessions. I learned that I was a people pleaser and that I wanted everyone that I met to like me. (Who doesn’t?) I had taken it to unhealthy levels though. I was trying to control people through my behaviors to get them to like me, but in reality I was ending up becoming what I thought those people needed and wanted me to be, and it wasn’t who I was. I was my own puppet on a string.

She said something to me one day that I’ll never forget:

“Rob, do you want everybody to like you?”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“Rob, do you like everyone you have met?”

I was floored and speechless. Because I knew the answer to that question. Of course I didn’t like everyone I had met. In fact there were some people at that time in my life that I downright hated.

She then threw this little gem at me:

“Rob, one third of the world is going to love you, no matter what. You’ll never change that about them. One third of the world is going to be totally indifferent to you, no matter what. You’ll never change that about them. And one third of the world is going to dislike you no matter what. You’ll never change that about them either. Focus on the ones that will love you.”

That was the day that I found the “off switch.” Almost all of the negative talk stopped. I found the volume knob that day too and turned everything else way down.

Okay, so we’ve strolled down memory lane, big deal.

Here’s the big deal guys:

Depression is a Choice.

How you describe it is how it is.

When you take something that is a feeling, and you give it a description and call it something, you give it a name, you take it outside of yourself. You crystallize it and make it real. It becomes static and it becomes its own entity. And then there is not much or anything you can do about it.

“I have depression.”

“I have anxiety.”

Think about those statements for a minute.

I have depression. So now you have this thing that is outside of you. It has its own name and basically has its own life. It’s a real thing. It’s not a momentary sensation or a fleeting feeling anymore. It’s there. It has always been there. It will always be there.

All of the people that I know in my personal life that are on anti-depressants are train wrecks. The medications aren’t helping them really. Those medications aren’t fixing anything. That’s because those medications are designed to deal with “chemical imbalances” in the brain. In my opinion, there is no such thing as a chemical imbalance. That’s a story that Big Pharma created to sell you a solution you don’t need to a problem you don’t actually have.

As I’ve grown and gotten older I’ve realized that what I eat has far more impact on my moods and feelings. My weight and health is more of an impact than anything else on my life.

How I choose to label and deal with my feelings and mental states has a huge impact on them.

Do I still get down and feel sad, angry, hopeless, and anxious? Yes I do. The difference for me is that I know that these feelings are temporary and fleeting. They will pass. I can usually trace it back to something shitty that I ate or drank.

I stopped labeling my momentary feelings as conditions. I don’t have depression. I don’t have anxiety. I may feel some negative things as we all do from time to time, but they aren’t current states for me. Not anymore.

I get into arguments with some of my friends who are on medications for depression and anxiety. Man, do they argue for their conditions. They define their lives, their very existences from them.

Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they’re yours.

Give me examples and show me reasons why you have depression and anxiety, and sure enough those things are yours. And you’ll never get away from them.

My question to you then is:

Do you really want to get away from them? Do you really want to overcome them? Or do you want to continue using them as a reason and as an excuse so that you don’t have to do anything? Do you want to overcome or do you want to continue being a victim?

Watch what you say about the feelings and emotions that you go through. Be careful how you label them.

Are those things outside of you and are they static and permanent? Do you have a condition?

Or are they temporary and fleeting? Something that comes and goes?

While you are at it, stop trying to be happy.

I didn’t say go and be miserable.

Stop trying to be happy.

Stop trying to make happiness a static goal or end state.

You’ll end up miserable if you do.

Happiness isn’t an end state and it isn’t static.

Just like feeling sad, angry, jealous, down, whatever, happiness flows and goes too.

Happiness is a byproduct of the things you do.

Go out and get absorbed in something. A book. A movie. Going to the gym. Going for a walk. Building something. Working on a vehicle. Whatever.

You get so absorbed in what you are doing, you forget to “be happy.” You can forget to “be depressed.”

You’ll feel good from doing something that “holy shit! I’m pretty damn happy right now,” shows up. That’s how this works.

Watch how you label your thoughts and feelings, become more aware of how and what you eat, get your hormone levels checked out and do something about them if they are off. Get your weight under control. You’ll find that your “anxiety” and “depression” start to go away if not go away completely.

I can empathize with people that “have depression and anxiety.” I had it. I was diagnosed with it. I’ve been there. I’ve looked down the barrel of a gun a couple times in my life.

I won’t pity them though. I won’t enable them. I won’t perpetuate their victim status. That’s on them. That’s on you if this is where you are.

Depression is a Choice.

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The State Of Men Today: An Observation

man in the middle of the road

I was at a convenience store the other day, buying some fuel for the work truck (the fuel card reader at the pump was down so I had to go inside to pay) and I noticed that the majority of the people who were patronizing the store were men.

This was the first time I’ve stepped into a convenience store in some time and I was saddened by what I saw. The men in this store, and there was about 20 or so of them, were utterly lost.

They had this vacancy in their eyes. Now maybe part of it was the fact that it was 7:30 in the morning. Maybe these guys hadn’t had their morning coffee yet. I doubt it though. They seemed “awake” enough. They could pay for their coffee, their breakfast whatever, their smokes, and their fuel.

They were utterly lost. They looked it. Lifeless eyes. Confused. Like they didn’t know what they were doing there, or how they had gotten there.

I’ve noticed this same confusion and vacancy elsewhere too. I’ve seen it while out on route, all throughout the day. Guys just sort of shuffling around, wandering, waiting. Waiting for what though?

In some cases, some of these guys were waiting for their women to tell them what to do. I saw that as well. Women running the show. Women leading the men around. Women catering to these men like they were either small children or invalids. Guys who have these confused looks on their faces, their eyes dull. “Dance for me puppet, dance. Be a good little boy and you’ll get a new toy.”

Until their women compliment them or “give them a treat.” Then the guy’s face gets animated, his eyes light up. He seems somewhat alive, for a moment at least.

I saw a guy today in a woman’s care facility holding the baby and the baby carrier, being a good boy. He still looked lost. His smile didn’t mask his confusion, “How the fuck did I get here?”

And not just how did he get “here,” as in the facility, but how did he get “here,” as in his life?

How did they get like this? I’m pondering this as I write about it. How indeed did “we” get here, as a group?

What happened?

This is the “matrix” that we all allude to when we talk about the Red Pill. This is the world we inhabit, but don’t necessarily live in.

What a sad state of affairs. What a state that we as a whole, live in.

I pity these guys somewhat. Maybe I sound like an asshole when I say that, but I do. I do pity them. I’m not trying to sound holier than thou, believe me.

I do feel some compassion for them as well. Unplugging is hard to do and is near impossible until you are ready and willing to do it.

Most of these men are not only lost souls, but they are truly lost, at least until the time comes, if the time comes, that they want to unplug.

It seems to me that years ago, we as men were lost, just the same as today, but there is a difference that I’m noticing now. “Back in the day,” men were lost, but many of them seemed genuinely happy in their lost state. Full of ignorant bliss I guess.

Nowadays, more often than not, that blissful ignorance is gone. It’s like they know something is wrong, dreadfully wrong, but they don’t know just what it is. Something is off. You can see it in their eyes and in their faces. The happiness is gone and all that is left is confusion, sadness, a questioning glance here and there, and a look of terror.

Lost Boys indeed.

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