Bad place lessons, and the fear that achieving self-awareness is what signals to the universe that it's time for a person to die

Start time: 1:36a.

In this blog I talk about all sorts of dark stuff- death, drugs… mostly those. Reader beware.

The title of this journal entry is dark but it reverberates. When I allow myself to sit with the bad place and let the spider web of imagined crises play all the way out, I get to the end, which generally is a lesson I need to commit to practice. Even though the crisis spider webs sprout all sorts of alarming content, the insecurity always comes to the surface during the instances where I don’t try to yank myself out of it. The ultimate nugget of fear that’s running the show stems from a good old fashioned fear of not being able to control the manner of my death.

To sum up the next few paragraphs for all the dads in my life reading this, I begrudgingly recognize the lesson: Either I can be scared, or I can be prepared. Yeah. That’s the first half of what this title will circle back to.

I used to add on, “and let go of the things you can’t control,” but I’ve dropped that segment because it seems built-in. I am clever, and I hope that in a situation where I needed to think fast and craft a solution from whatever resources are around me, I would have more of a chance than I give myself credit for. Maybe an unavoidable tragedy will still happen, but maybe I up my chances of survival if I can think quickly and be resourceful under pressure.

If I had it my way, I wouldn’t see my death coming and it would be instantaneous, probably the same as everyone else. I dread the hormones that will pump through me when it is my time, and I have the “Oh my god, this is it,” deer-in-headlights moment. Like if I’m driving, late night, doing everything right, and suddenly a car is coming at me head-on. I have a recurring bad place penultimate scenario that I always end up going to- that I’m driving hurriedly at night while it’s raining. I’m rushing away from something. And suddenly a car comes plowing out of a neighborhood block and smashes right into my driver side. I experience “the moment” and the synesthesia lightning bolt of being startled that I dread so much. This could totally happen and I admit, I get spooked driving in the rain because it feels premonition…ish? I don’t know the adverb for that.

Anyway what’s interesting is, one, that I can’t tell if the car had a stop sign. And two, I get this feeling in my head that I am fucked up somehow. Like, I’m smoking, drinking, or something else, and I experience a home invasion, and decide to drive away from the property to get away from the area. Or, maybe someone I love experiences an emergency and needs a rescue. Good intentions. I get into my car and decide to drive. I know that I shouldn’t because of my intoxication state, but it’s an emergency. Maybe I’m the one that passes a stop sign. All I see is that it’s raining, and suddenly there are a pair of head lights that T-bone me from my left at a high speed.

Thankfully, I can logic my way out of this thinking- before this rainy driving scenario, there have been two other scenarios that I’ve fixated on long-term and each time, was convinced that was the method that I was going to die, and it’s going to happen soon. So I’d better start preparing. I therefore deem the rainy car wreck scenario MANUFACTURED and not to be taken as premonition or truth.

Second thing I take it to mean is, Lauren, if you’re cozy at home thinking all is well and you experience an emergency, do you really want to be fucked up when it happens? Probably no I don’t. It’s so strange how every time I’m sober, I can’t wait for the next time I smoke weed. And then when I smoke, I wish I hadn’t smoked weed and could just switch my mood off and on sober instead of rely on substances to help me feel something different or break me out of a funk. Different blog for some day.

Finally, the third thing I get from these fantasies is, if I experience an emergency no matter if I’m sober or partying, do I feel equipped with the skills to stand a fighting chance? Will I keep my cool or will I freeze? Am I strong and flexible, and do I have endurance, if my adversary is a human? Do I know where to hide if my apartment gets hit by a tornado? Can I recognize the signs of a tsunami and make people pay attention to me if I spot them? Sadly the answer to all of these is no, and it’s a wake-up call. It’s a wake-up call every time I have this discussion with myself (and whenever I allow my thought spider web to progress all the way through the bad place) but the thing about vices, is that the lessons dissipate if we don’t enact them immediately.

So loud note to self, because I know I am impulsive, resist the urge to make exceptions for safety while doing something that could make you a hazard, even for emergencies. And perhaps if I want to try mind-altering substances, I need “being responsible” to include preparations like, knowing by heart what I need to do for common emergencies. Making sure I have someone sober around me so I can enjoy myself. And having a variety of hobbies scattered around to redirect my attention when I feel the cyclical thought pattern starting to suck the happies out of me and defeat whatever my intention was for partying in the first place.

And then, PREPARE. I need to be strong and I need to be flexible. And also, I need to be relaxed in the face of stress. The third one I haven’t had a chance recently to test, but when I got T-boned November ‘22, it was very hard for me to think in the subsequent moments after it happened. Actually not true, it was hard for me to be bothered to spend my energy having a conversation with EMS dispatch. I thought to myself, “I just need a second, the emergency thing that my car just called on my behalf will understand if I’m silent for just a second.” Thank god D totally took charge communicating even though HIS side of the car was hit. He showed real leadership that night while all I felt was a mix of being able to comprehend what was happening, but not being able to words and shaking too much to perform any motor functions. Another different blog for some day.

I need to be physically strong. There’s got to be a sport that’s perfect for me. I need something where I dart around, something where I’m on a team, something that requires hand/eye coordination, and something that requires body strength and flexibility. But NOT something that will dirty up my hands…. (gyms and rock climbing, etc. Two sports I used to love when I was less neurotic). This is the criteria for my perfect sport, avoiding neuroses that will make me not want to work hard, and harnessing the types of moves that I crave doing.

Take a breather! Almost done.

So how does all of this tie into the title?

Well, that’s where self-obsession to the point of borderline-narcissism comes in and it feels a little gross to talk about because if I were an outsider, it would come off a certain way. The last few months, I finally feel like my negative tendencies are sloughing off. I’m listening better, I’m devoted to things, I have direction, I can be myself with anyone, and my fervor for building has returned.

As a result, I’ve been blowing up creatively. Tapping into what I create when I get totally lost in something. For once, FINALLY, not caring how good or bad it is. Not caring if it’s perfect and tidy and curated. With music, I love imperfection and hiccups. And with art, I love “mistakes”. It feels nice to just advocate for that. To not feel like I have to play something 100 times until it’s recorded perfectly cleanly because that’s what everyone else does and what is expected. To not feel like I have to be able to draw objects that already exist, and that it’s okay to be weird with art and to do it because I’m a toddler that likes to color.

As a result of feeling like I’m finally buildling again, up to things in the world, it feels as though my demeanor has changed and that if I really wanted to, I could probably make an enormous difference on the world, either by writing music that moves me, creating art that is unique and special, or writing words that resonate with people. Here I am, about 3 weeks into the whole “making a living doing art” endeavor, and I’m already thinking about how cool of a Christmas present it would be to be able to present my dad some award or contract that means to both of us that I’ve officially “made it” with music. It’s hard to do that without selling out or running into 4th album syndrome. (4th album syndrome: When a band gets privy to their most beloved elements and start chopping out the excess when they write. It really could go either way. The best album yet, or more commonly, a streamlined, curated sound devoid of quirks and space… /rant).

But, what if, now that I can clearly visualize the future that I want, with my ultimate end goal being to help people realize that it’s okay to look inward and as a result, prevent human tragedies and violence, my own life tragically gets cut short by a tragedy or I experience crippling violence before I say the key things that I’d need to say in order to make a major impact on humanity? What if I die before I discover those? What if I have to die for the people that need my brand of relatedness to finally discover my words? What a tragedy that would be.

And that’s why it feels arrogant and narcissistic to think like this. Like I’m THAT important. What hubris. That’s how I think it sounds from the outside, at least. But ultimately, the fear is about not realizing my maximum impact on the world when I finally, after a three-decade wait, feel that I’m on the best path to do so. This is where I get stuck. This is the cause of the bad place, and the cause of my procrastination. If I achieve success sooner, will the universe take me sooner? Hail science and all but sometimes I wish the logic of randomness and coincidence stuck with me through my illogical breakdowns.

So anyway, I’m proud of my progress self-actualizing. It’s not that I want to be famous- in fact, the opposite. I was thinking of making this blog anonymous. And it’s not that I think I have power that other people don’t have- because I’m just journalizing and squeaking out imperfect art. I’m just scared that if I dream too big, my life will be cut short. Or that, because I waited too long to take action in my 20s and early 30s, I made WAY less of an impact before my fated death at age whatever. If I burn too brightly, I will attract an “only the good die young” situation. I question maybe I should always be just a little bit of a prick to ward off the “only the good die young” spirits that work for Murphy and his Law. But also, you know, maybe I’m not that great of a person as I think I am either, and I have no right to question whether the universe has sentience, makes decisions, and would be out to get me once I’ve just started to to get a taste of my “full potential”.

Stuff to think about.

Do other people deal with this? I have to stop writing for today. Time of end, 3:38a.