Jess lanai

I’ve never done very well in school or in work.

Authority figures don’t usually like me very much.

Because I have all the D’s.

Detached. Disinterested. Disrespectful and disdainful.

As a kid I was very timid and when I got older that transformed into aloofness.

The aloof type of personality does have its strengths. But it was also (for me at least) a way to avoid a certain kind of effort.

Because there is a type of effort that goes to zero.

It takes everything. Drains every last bit of energy. Voids us out of all our hope. It can even take our identity.

Avoiding it is a natural instinct I think.

The effort we use to do the things we don’t want to do requires a kind of cognitive override.

If I don’t want to do something it’s because of a very strong emotion. And that very strong emotion is there for a compelling reason of some sort.

Like, I’m terrified of hospitals. Because of when I got sick and had to go to one as a kid and because of when I watched my dad die in a hospital.

I will avoid hospitals as much as I possibly can. But if the pain is bad enough it’s easy for me to override the fear.

I also have a very strong aversion to kissing ass. I’d rather get fired.

Getting fired enough times did eventually provide me with a cognitive override to that as well.

The cognitive override I’ve been searching for all my life is how to be productive.

Why do I care about being productive?

Because I am afraid that I will waste my time in life.

I’ve spent most of my life feeling chaotic. I’d like some organization. I’d like to be able to set goals and accomplish them. I’d like to feel some balance in my life of work and fun.

That requires the effort of the cognitive override. Of doing the things I most do not want to do in a moment I most do not want to do them.

The hardest thing about putting in this kind of effort is it gives a real assessment of where we’re really at.

When I decided to admit to myself that I wanted to quit porn because I wanted a chance to find a boyfriend, I had no idea how many layers I was buried under.

The first layer is the worst.

Getting through the initial discomfort of quitting porn was like trying to lift a boulder that had already fallen on me and broken most my limbs.

By the time I got it off, I was already exhausted and completely depleted. I felt like I’d suffered enough and it was time for my reward.

But with that first step I’d barely done anything, I just felt like I’d done a lot. All I’d done was quit porn and get a real job.

Until you start to really try to get something you want or need but do not have, you will not realize how many layers you are buried beneath.

The good thing is each layer does get easier. The first one has you pinned to the ground. The second one you’ve got some arms free. By the third maybe you can sit up right.

I think at this point I’ve gotten my feet on the ground. Still squatting and trying to stand upright. But the feet are on the ground.