I’d like to start my first few posts describing the path or journey that led me to my Agnostic Framework. In sharing my journey, I hope to share an abridged picture of the events and choices that shaped me into the individual I am today and how I’ve come to view this existence. I hope in sharing my life journey; how I’ve come to the conclusions I hold to be true can be better understood.
I’m going to do this often, at least in these early posts.
At no point, am I claiming that I have some sort of absolute knowledge about anything really.
I know that statement might be off putting. Time is precious. A person reading this is probably looking for answers or quick guidance on how to best live life or what to believe in. But I cannot, in good consciousness make claims to having some absolute truth or knowledge as it would go against my own Agnostic philosophy. I simply don’t think it is possible for a person at this point (we’ll get into this later) in our development as a species, to have total knowledge even in the subject of their expertise.
I’ve had the fortune of meeting brilliant humans in my life time, as well as, those perceived to be brilliant humans. And I had the privilege of having much smarter and wiser mentors who were more intelligent and knowledgeable than these so-called brilliant humans. And yet, I have not met a single person that has a complete understanding of very complex issues. Rather, it is helpful to think of people as having expertise and deep knowledge in specific slices of life. So, I think the best thing one should seek is to glean from people the slices of knowledge they have and learn to filter the things they know less about and yet still share. So, if you do choose to keep reading this blog, what I can say is that I will share the slices of knowledge I’ve extrapolated and some of the practices and thoughts that I have found to be helpful and interesting to me.
Now back to the journey.
When I was about thirteen years old, I had my first arthritis attack. My knees would swell to the size of a melon and become so stiff I wouldn’t be able to move my leg. Soon after I also developed psoriasis. Parts of my skin would be so inflamed that layers of skin would flake off and my open sores would get stuck to my clothing. I’d have to slowly peel the clothing away from my skin. Needless to say, it was painful.
The years were the early to late 90’s. As painful and uncomfortable as my condition was, even more painful was the embarrassment I felt around my condition. I was just entering high school. Even healthy children entering high school feel a great deal of pressure to fit in. It is probably the most self-conscious period of our lives. But having this defect made me feel that much more self-conscious. I was incredibly embarrassed of my defects, and I hated myself for being different. I just wanted to be viewed as normal and wanted to fit in and be seen as cool. And so, I started to take on behaviors which I thought would make me seem cool.
Having these afflictions and feeling different caused me to hate myself. I recall many school nights alone on my parent’s roof. I would sneak out of my bedroom window, sometimes with a drink I spiked with some of my parent’s rum or vodka. Or sometimes I would smoke a joint. And so, I would sit on the roof, stare at the stars, get inebriated and contemplate my fate. I’d often ask GOD, why me? Why do I have to have these afflictions?
I was angry at God and the adults that failed me. The doctor’s had no answers. They would say, “you have rheumatoid arthritis”. Or another would say, “you have psoriatic arthritis”. I was smart enough to know even at the age of fourteen or fifteen that all the doctors were offering was the name of my symptoms. I would say back to the doctor, “but what is causing this? All you are telling me is the name of my symptoms”. And they would say plainly, “we don’t know that yet. But let’s try this medicine. Or try putting this cream on.” A few times they would drain my knees, sticking a massive needle in my knee and pulling the liquid out.
So, feeling let down by God and adults alike I started mistrusting adult institutions. My parents sent me to Catholic School for high school because I already started acting out in 8th grade. They had hoped Catholic School would offer some discipline and keep me from getting into trouble. But going to Catholic school was the last place I wanted to be, so I rebelled. I felt the teachings and practices of Catholic church were fairytales no different than the tooth fairy or Christmas that adults made up to try to manipulate children. At this point I came to the conclusion that there was no GOD or certainly not a kind or just one. I felt from an early age that we were alone here, left to figure things out for ourselves.
So, through the early to mid-90’s, I spent a lot of time getting high or drunk or a combination of both with my friends. And getting into trouble was part of the thrill. Trespassing. Cutting out of school. Running from police. It was all part of the game. Looking back my behavior was driven by a need to rebel and an attempt to be perceived as cool. All driven by my self-hatred and anger.
I would also describe this early period of my life as being a hedonistic existence. I was perpetually seeking pleasure. From the food I ate, to the video games I played, to the TV I would watch, or getting into “adventures” with friends or drinking alcohol, smoking weed or cigarettes. It was a constant search for immediate gratification. Sure, I attended high school. But I didn’t study very hard. I was one of those individuals that didn’t have to study much to pass. I even purposefully started dumbing down my results because I didn’t want to be seen as nerdy by my peers. So, I got through my high school with a high 80’s average.
To be clear, my parents really tried to do the best they could for me. They were very loving and kind parents. Like most parents, they wanted me to be happy. Perhaps, knowing the suffering that I was going through with my arthritis and psoriasis they were more willing to look the other way and do everything they could to give me the things I wanted. Sure, they would punish me at times when I would get caught doing something outrageous like sneaking out at night and stealing their car or getting caught cutting from school. But in all fairness to them, I was pretty sneaky. I hid a great deal from them. They probably to this day have no idea how bad my psoriasis really was, as I was too embarrassed to tell anyone the extent of it, even my parents.
Things continued in this way until I was 19.
At 18, I started to go to Queens College. But by this time, I was working as a supervisor at the Gap. (The Gap was very cool back then lol) And my partying evolved to epic proportions. I would be out partying most nights until the early morning hours getting high with my friends and then sleep through the day, missing my classes. Evenings would be spent at work. I would repeat this pattern almost daily, missing practically the entire first semester. My first semester in college I got a 0.8 GPA. I bet you didn’t think that was possible. But it is, if you get a “B” in one class and three unofficial withdrawals or essentially three zeroes. So Queens College put me on notice saying they will expel me if I didn’t get my grades above 2.5 GPA.
And then at 19, I had my first Crohn’s attack. I developed a very high fever. My temperature reached 105 degrees and I had terrible, stabbing pains in the lower right quadrant of my torso. My parents rushed me to the hospital, presuming it was appendicitis. Even the emergency room doctors believed it was appendicitis. I was immediately prepped for surgery. But fortunately, I had a smart surgeon who before jumping to cut me open made several small incisions and using a camera saw that it wasn’t my appendix at all but an inflamed ileum (where the small and large intestines meet). He immediately diagnosed my case as Crohn’s disease, and sowed me up without removing my appendix.
Soon after the emergency room visit, I saw a Gastroenterologist who told me about my options and the outlook of my disease. What really stuck with me was when he explained that the outlook for people with Crohn’s was that many didn’t make it past their fortieth birthday. This hit me hard. Was half my life really over already?
I continued doing things as usual partying at night, hardly attending school and working at nights as a manager. And over the course of the year my Crohn’s continued to get worse. Pain was a daily occurrence. On average the stabbing pain I felt was a 6 or 7 on a scale of 10. A good day would be a 3. And a few times a year it would erupt into a 9 or 10. And I would get terribly high fevers and vomit as food would no longer pass through the ileum because of the inflammation.
So, one day after a long night of partying, I woke up at 3pm to get ready for work. As I was taking a shower, I was struck by an epiphany. It became viscerally clear to me that I was wasting my life. In an instant, I knew to my core, that if I continued living my life the way I was, I would lead myself to an early grave and not achieve my full potential.
The clarity I felt in that moment was so palpable it thrusted me into immediate action. That very afternoon I went to work and gave my two-week notice. I also decided to quit smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol and smoking weed that very day. To achieve that goal, I stopped seeing all my friends who I used to party with and entered a self-imposed lock down of sorts. I knew that if I was going to make these changes I couldn’t be exposed to any temptations for some time. And then I set out on a path to fix myself, gain discipline and try to make a better life for myself.
I was 20 years old when I made that 180-degree change. And I would say this was the first leg of my journey or my first epiphany.