Inputs and Outputs

What happens when my cup isn't full? What happens when there's more outputs than inputs? What changes when I get what I need versus when I don't? In my second to last album, I wrote two songs that pretty much have a polar opposite vibe. Beautiful Life opens with the following line, “I sang of redemption and the wounds of war, but never a hope like this before” (Tim Kellogg, “Beautiful Life”, 2013). It's oozing with hope and joy. That wasn't exactly the norm then, nor is it now. A couple tracks later on the same album, “Tattoo Me, Love Me, Boo Me” is a scathing indictment to some critics at the time. It closes with the title line, “Tattoo, love, or boo me” (Tim Kellogg, “Tattoo Me, Love Me, Boo Me”, 2013). I wrote these two divergent songs about 4 months apart. They illustrate what happens when I get depleted. 

People aren't really used to me being a beacon of sunshine or energy for that matter. I'm not used to it myself. Frankly, it's pretty much my norm to be low energy and a bit melancholy. I rarely go too long without having too many outputs versus inputs. I rarely go too long having balance in the way my needs are met or not. What that does when you carry the physical element of a disability and the emotional weight of past trauma is that it adds to potential for volatility. My daily experience isn't a whole lot different from the stock market. Most days are just average, some days are incredible, and other days absolutely stink. I put a lot of effort into trying to create positive energy in my world because I know it's not my natural state. 

So how do I improve the scenario? How do I find that right balance? I have to prioritize my own care. I have to put my oxygen mask on first so to speak and that's really counterintuitive for me. While I have done a lot of growth work on the codependent cycles of my youth, it still feels safer to fawn when things get difficult. However there's a limit to that and then people feel my sharp edges like in the Tattoo Me, Love Me, Boo Me song. 

I don't write songs as prolifically as I used to, but these old songs really do illustrate a point, I am capable of being a relatively light and joyful person under the right circumstances. When my cup is being filled with things that I love, that inner critic and cynic gets a lot quieter. When I feel backed into a corner and criticized for my existence, I get a bit prickly. I think these responses have more to do with how my nervous system is responding to my external circumstances than merely behavioral choices.

For a long time, I've wanted to write more songs like Beautiful Life because I wanted to be in that kind of place more often than I actually am. What do I feel like I need to do to get there? I think in some respect sharing that I have this experience as part of that. I want to come to everything I do and work, life, and everything else in between with that fullness of joy and energy. I do my best to choose that. It's very difficult to sustain it. As I deal with advanced aging and the long-term wear and tear of my disability on my body, I've had to fight a little harder to shine that light. Things get pretty dim. 

I think the double-edged sword of surviving the things that I have is that I recognize most of the things that we focus on every day don't really matter. It doesn't matter if you have the right projects, the best outfits, the best policies, the most creative pitch, or the best job title. It doesn't even matter if you have the best paycheck. We can't take any of that with us. I've recognized the gravity of that for the majority of my life. It wasn't something I had to wake up to at midlife. It's pretty ingrained in me to know that there's more to life than the things that usually get people's attention including my own. 

The other edge to that that I alluded to is that a lot of stuff doesn't really matter to me because it's lost meaning. That means it takes extra effort to create joy and excitement over a lot of things. If my repetitive experience is that the life I want doesn't matter, that the person I am isn't really going to reward me with the things I dream of, and even if I do my best to do things right I'm still going to struggle. I've had a pretty incredible career run the last several years and I'm no further in life than when I started. I have a better rank, better title, better salary, better workspace, and a lot of really wonderful things. None of those achievements have actually reduced the struggle. If anything, the achievements have created struggles of their own because now there's things I can't afford to lose. 

I want to have a balanced number of inputs to outputs. I want to find balance in the way that my needs are met. I want to give more than I take. I want to receive the ROI from the work that I put in to make sure that I'm not still a poor kid with no prospects and no future. I don't want to have to pay off my first degree until I die. That desire is not some sort of woke entitlement. It's a statement of the fact that I've achieved more on one hand and received less on the other hand. I'm beyond grateful for all that I have today. That doesn't change the fact that I'd like the burden to be a little bit lighter. Not some utopic ideal of non-existent burdens, but manageable, so that I feel like I can look forward to things with excitement. I want to heal from the wounds of my past so that I can have a bright future. I've done a lot of healing and I feel like there's a lot more to go.