My Friend Nietzsche

I am currently fascinated with Nietzsche. His inspirations, his influences, his life, and his convictions; I consume all I come across. (The fact he went mad at the age of 44 adds an entirely different and mysterious aspect) I am still in the first of four sections of Thus Spoke Zarathustra and every sentence is so full of knowledge that by necessity it is a slow read. Given the extensive use of metaphors and aphorisms, it helps to read summaries of all his work while trying to digest the plentiful nuggets contained within Zarathustra. While doing so, further exposure has been made to the lives and ideas of Socrates and Plato, the composer Wagner, and psychologists who were heavily influenced by Nietzsche, such as Freud and Adler. A long way from being anything beyond a neophyte, it is nonetheless important for me to document my exploration of these new and exciting ideas regarding the dimensions of human existence.

The concept of herd morality, eternal recurrence of the same, and ubermensch have been on my mind as of late and in this entry, I choose to explore these themes as they relate to my own life.

HERD MORALITY

“ ‘My brother, if you have a virtue and she is your virtue, then you have her in common with nobody’. Even naming one’s virtue would make her too common; if one must speak of her, it should be: ‘This is my good; this I love; it pleases me wholly; thus alone do I will the good. I do not will it the law of a god; I do not will it as human statute and need’ ”.

I can see how almost all of my drives and values have been derived from perceptions of what other people believe I should do, think, or say. The key component of that sentence has to do with perceptions of what other people believe. My interpretation is just that: an interpretation that may or may not be true. Whether it was my father talking about “how much potential” I have (hearing that what I was doing in the moment was not good enough), or comparing myself to people in Alcoholics Anonymous testifying for God as the source of their long sobriety time, other people have been the mirror I’ve used to measure my own worth. However it may exist in each moment of a short lifespan, studying Nietzsche has shown the freedom available to one with the courage to leave the herd, to forge his own way, and to overcome internal resistance in finding his true meaning.

Every day I see the herd going about their business through substance addiction, social media posts, and an unhealthy dependence on technology. Substance addiction is an obvious tool the herd uses to escape reality and doesn’t need to be expounded upon here. Addiction can manifest itself in many ways and social media is no exception. I used to have nearly 1,000 “friends” on Facebook and after scrolling through the newsfeed, a feeling of depression would typically follow. Posts frequently showed the herd at the nightclub, on vacation, or highlighting expensive new homes and vehicles. My life didn’t seem to measure up. After cutting the “friends” to around 250 people who I actually want to engage with, the newsfeed experience is much more enjoyable and relevant.

It is amazing how much time can be spent in front of a 55″ high-definition TV. After cutting the cord on cable a year ago, I’ve since picked up subscriptions to YouTube TV, HBO, Netflix, and Amazon Prime. While my interests do gravitate more towards documentaries and other content that could be deemed educational, hours upon hours can go by while lost in an alternate reality. This is especially so when my mood is low. Lately when those moods hit, I’ve been trying to pay attention in a detached, objective manner in an attempt to isolate the self-serving and demeaning fantasy used to perpetuate it. Alfred Adler’s teleology would state that deep-seated fear of being a loser within competition of interpersonal relationships is the basis for those stories, but more on that in another post. Nietzsche would say all of it is resistance, the overcoming of which leads to self-reliance and liberation, thereby bringing with it real happiness.

ETERNAL RECURRENCE OF THE SAME

“What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more’ … Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine’.”

I am currently on a quest. The impetus for this is a relapse into addiction that ended abruptly with a DUI arrest on September 15th of this year. It is not an egotistical boast to say that I am highly intelligent and was first identified as such in the 3rd grade; my mind has always delved into deep thought and my struggles to overcome addiction have provided convenient avenues to exercise innate curiosity. During a teenage stint in treatment, I was exposed to art museums, the orchestra, and plays as part of structured, off-site programming. Participation in this programming developed into a lifelong appreciation for the arts and may or may not have occurred without my addiction battle. Treatment also was my first experience with individual psychotherapy, and those first sessions evolved into the years-long psychoanalysis completed earlier in 2018.

My affliction and the associated consequences have afforded opportunities to exercise a curious mind, which now finds itself on a quest to go beyond the religious dogma of 12-step recovery programs to identify morals and virtues that are my own. Would this endeavour even be possible had I been born without the gene that makes addiction so much more likely? Had I been born into a supportive and wealthy family, would the comforts of an easy life sparked the same intellectual curiosity I now use to my advantage? I think it unlikely.

Even before this relapse, personal thoughts and comments to others were made regarding the belief that recovery from addiction allows for a search for meaning that others outside of recovery often can’t understand. The hypothetical question was raised numerous times of whether one would take a magical pill that could somehow cure addiction. My instinctive response was always no.

In answer to Nietzsche, if I had to do it over again, I would take the addiction, the unexpected daughter that has shown me so much, the exquisitely painful divorce, and the significant financial loss ten years ago if it led to the same personal discovery and this exact same moment in time. In committing that statement to electronic paper, as I do now, the freedom sensed in Nietzsche’s work truly can be felt.

UBERMENSCH

This concept is the most confounding of the three discussed tonight. Perhaps it is because I am still so early in the reading of Zarathustra. I know it is not a biological state of being. The overcoming of resistance and the becoming of one’s true self resonates as a worthy goal. What this means in my own life I do not yet know. I believe it is never an achievement that the ubermensch is consciously aware of. Were it so, it would happen in comparison and competition with other men and thus would violate the premise of service to humankind and my own belief in naturalism (ALL life has equal value). A conscious belief of oneself as an ubermensch is malevolent manifestation of ego, not the transcendence of the last man and the slave, human states which are traps for us all. The higher man has a reverence for oneself and a humility in his own overcoming.

I will continue to simply put one foot in front of the other, and not let fear dominate my actions in life to the extent it has thus far. As stated earlier in this post, it is important for me to journal about this experience. The value in journaling is found by going back and rereading old posts and remembering. Right now, no one knows my personal identity and someday, that may change, or it may not. Either way, this blog serves as a record of my existence. If that is all I can provide to this world, then maybe that’s good enough.

MOOD

I don’t know what hit me this weekend. Last week went fine and it seemed productive and progressive in a positive way. The plan for Friday was to get a workout in and then come home and relax. Work went late and I came home to rest for a bit before the workout and I didn’t leave the house till today, with the exception of a couple trips to fast food joints to sooth my incredibly dark mood.

It scares me when this happens. These are the emotions that lead to drinking and they seem to come out of nowhere. “I’m a failure”. “I’m incapable of finding love”. Unworthy, despicable, without hope…

Where does it come from? My old therapist would say that it stems from mother never picking me up and dusting me off when I was down. It’s hard to tap in to that and understand it. I know when the mood hits how to describe it, just as I did in the paragraph above. But I’m sooo tired of feeling that way. I’m sure that even when I’m feeling ok, as I was last week, that feeling of worthlessness is simmering just below the surface, just waiting to say, see… I told you so whenever it seems my own expectations aren’t met.

Weekends seem to be especially tough and have been ever since I quit the part-time bar manager job over a year ago. I know what I’m wishing for and even here, in my anonymous blog that few people ever see, it is hard to admit. I want to be in love again.

I want to go to the gym together and eat healthy food. I want to go for walks in all seasons of our upper midwest weather. I want to visit art museums and talk about what the artists might have been trying to say through their work. I want to explore meditation and spirituality and have open discussions about what it means to be human. I want to make love and feel skin on my skin.

I want somebody to think I’m special.

I know this is a fantasy as long as I continue to sink into self-loathing. Or so I’ve been told by therapists and treatment programs. But the loathing never seems to let up. Good feelings do come but then weekends like this happen and hopelessness overshadows it all and I then think to myself, what’s the point in trying.

It’s like my unborn identical twin lives inside me and ridicules me with sneers and disgusted chuckles when the possibility of something more seems just over the horizon. See… I told you so. When he comes around, my heart burns with shame and I do anything to make it go away.

Last night I finally went to the grocery store to buy healthy food and I wore my baseball cap low over my eyes; I couldn’t bear to look people in the face lest I burst into tears. I walked outside with my full cart and everything seemed so bustling and alive around me. It was early evening on a Saturday night. But I felt separate from it all and just wanted to slink back to my basement and crawl under the covers. The liquor store was on the other side of the parking lot and I thought about stopping, but didn’t.

This morning I went to the gym and transcended The Mood. Then I went to my dad’s to watch football with him. I felt dirty in his presence. He doesn’t know about the relapse and DUI. I’m worried when he finds out he’ll cut me off again for another year, like he did the last time I got one 3 years ago. I was waiting for him to ask if I had been riding my motorcycle lately and thankfully he never did. Lying about anything just pushes me deeper into the loathing and I don’t know if I could’ve taken it. But the problem is that the self-loathing is better than his loathing. I’m used to it coming from me.

One of my goals is to try and write here on a weekly basis. I think I’m done for tonight and can’t say that I necessarily feel better but at least the weight on my heart seems a little less. I’m not going to go back and read this now or edit it. The therapist would probably have a field day with some of this. My guess is that it sounds like I’m really feeling sorry for myself. I don’t care. It’s raw but at 6:31 pm on October 14, 2018 it’s real, at least to me.