How does one stop feeling like such a loser?

How does one stop feeling like such a loser? I know I’m technically not one but I can’t convince myself to feel like that

Probably not a great text to randomly send to your mom on a cold Saturday evening when you’ve been inside on your phone for too long. Of course the response was perfect and grounding: What?

Great question! Honestly, I don’t even remember this much. Sometimes I get into high and lows that I forget about once they’re over but feel inescapable in the moment. I’ve been writing about this feeling for a few newsletters now, even though I had nice week with lots of movement. Maybe I’m just in a transition period of some sort, or on the cusp of one, searching for something I’m not really sure of yet. Feeling suburban angst in an urban wonderland like the delusionally frustrating 20-something I am. Another goalless yapper.

I was not in the mood to turn off Drag Race in favor of clubbing that night, but I knew I had to leave the house and follow through with a plan I made weeks prior. I got a lil’ shwasty before hitting the dance floor. As I started to feel the effects, I did what all modern philosophers do: leave the dance floor to muse in the Notes app.

I am going to share a version of the epiphanies I had during my night on the town, edited slightly for clarity (and bolding stuff in the way that I do). In the moment, I felt unbelievably happy. Read at your own risk. Commas and exclamation points abound.

Q: Why is it so hard to get out of my head and just enjoy?

A: Because I trust myself so much! Even in the moments I’m confused or self-critical, it’s always MYSELF talking to me. Never a separate entity. It’s someone I recognize so well because it’s ME! Not even like a friend or an enemy or an unknown — me.

Self assurance, whether I like what I’m doing or not, is always present and informs all of my decisions. Whether I’m a hater or a lover, all of my feelings come from the same person, the same whole. I don’t feel like I lead myself astray, which is why it can be so hard to prove myself when I’m down on myself.

It can be so hard to go against my instincts because it feels like it means taking away my trust in myself, which I’ve spent my whole life living by! In the moments I feel unfulfilled by the people around me, I can always rely on myself, if not for enjoyment, for truth.

Even writing this I am so happy. All alone in the club away from everyone else. It’s so frustrating that substances make letting go that much easier. I idolize sober people for so many reasons and one of them is how they’re able to manufacture a great time on their own. I cannot fully let go because I’m so mired in everything around me every minute. To let go is a privilege I do not afford myself, as I already feel so aware of many of the other privileges I have (because I can’t be aware of all of them — that’s a privilege in itself!).

I’ve been talking this week about the idea of mo’ money, mo’ problems as a metaphor for not just money but experiences. It’s an idea that an abundance of joy/options for joy is actually a sedative, numbing me from happiness when everything starts to feel the same. This all makes me feel like a loser even though I know I’m not. It’s so frustrating that in this state I can truly see how much of a work in progress — and a successful one, at that! — I am. I know this about myself sober but don’t truly feel that I know it.

My truest moments of joy are, maybe contrary to most other people (?), not through blissful ignorance, but rather the goldilocks amount of gratitude. Aside from the instinctual euphoria I feel in a perfect moment, part of my happiness comes from feeling lucky and/or accomplished. I’m happy because of the moment first and foremost, but I’m also proud of my ability to have gotten there, feeling truly secure and safe (even though most joy requires some element of risk). 

Q: What does it feel like to not care what others think? 

A: It feels like caring about myself so, so much with security and confidence, maybe delusionally so (but that doesn’t matter). I care about what others think when I am insecure and frustrated. To have self-esteem and either 1. Clarity or 2. Acceptance when things are unclear is when my worry about the world around me erodes. 

At the end of the day, no one can love me the way I love myself at my highest form. Maybe this is why I like working out so much. Ugh, it just sucks that I often feel that way myself on nights like this one. And it’s not even every time I’m under the influence!

That’s my next objective: to bring that sense of self to sobriety. Even in what feels like a clear state, I have no idea what will get me there sober, which sucks. It feels truly like a hard task.

But this is what I was worrying about earlier today while lying on the couch and staring at the pre-golden hour contrast between the sky and warehouses and feeling like I have no goals or purpose. My new goal can be truly FEELING the joy sober that I do when I’m drunk. How can I do this?

I hope that wasn’t too cringey. Near the end of this writing, my friends came over to see if I was okay, and I had them read this. They seemed to understand and relate. They told me to put this in the newsletter so if you hate this, blame them. We had a great night that ended soon after. What a pleasure it is when the entire group wants to leave earlier than intended and grab food.

I do stand by everything I said here, though. I don’t often realize how little I’m able to let go unless I’m under the influence and chemicals have made me feel that way. It feels like such a simple (derogatory) way to go through life.

This sounds very quarter-life crisis (oh yeah, I’m 25!), unsure of what to prioritize and how to attain whatever kind of satisfaction I’m looking for. I think almost everyone my age feels this way. In this internal despair, people either look to something within themselves or (what they perceive as) higher than themselves.

New York is full of cults. I can go into this in another entry. Most of my friends are involved in cults, whether it’s SoulCycle or shamanic breath work. I love my friends and detest most of their cults. I don’t have the kind of daddy issues that have me searching for another daddy. My brand of feeling lost just has me whining in circles instead of wanting to learn from an expert.

My friend Gabby has taken me to a few different cults she’s in. She’s great at being in cults. Part of me envies her ability to let go and let loose. Part of me is thankful to be stuck in my comfort zone. The one cult she’s shown me is one I think everyone should try at least once: Reboot.

Reboot can sort of be categorized as a silent disco. You pull up and get a set of headphones. There are three DJs and three corresponding channels you can tune in and dance to. The dance starts early in the evening and ends at night, so you get to see everyone’s headsets glow with the colors of their corresponding channels as the sun sets. You can dance alone, with friends, with random people. It’s outdoors. It’s fully sober. It’s people of all ages and backgrounds.

I went to a few last summer, and they were all on a beach. It was a transcendental experience. Dancing with friends for four, five hours makes you happy at night and sore the next day. I especially liked the moments I could go off and be alone, staring out at the ocean’s expanse. It feels similar to how I felt writing in the corner of the club on Saturday.

I wanted to find these unabashedly joyful moments sober, right? Good thing I had already bought a ticket to Sunday’s Reboot. For most of the year, Reboot takes place on a pier in Williamsburg, which I haven’t done yet. My friend Allie and I walked from Bushwick to the pier to soak in every element of that warm Sunday.

The pier was different than the beach because there were random onlookers and people just trying to sit on benches nearby. I know how to let go on the beach at night with no one around but our group, but I had to just pretend people weren’t taking pictures or staring at the Rebooters. It became easy to ignore because of the fun songs and friends that accompanied me.

Slowly, onlookers started joining in, grabbing headsets in confusion then ending up in the middle of the circle by the end. Silent disco doesn’t really describe Reboot because sometimes everybody sings out loud. How can you not want to scream I want to dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody! at the top of your lungs?

I was less alone than I usually am at these dances, spending the vast majority of my time dancing in circles around my friends. Near the end, I took a few moments for myself to sit and stare at the skyline, watching the clouds overpower the sun setting around the Williamsburg Bridge. Ferries floated in and out of the port, confused at the dancing going on at the pier next to them. It was hot until the sun set and rain trickled in to escort us out.

I didn’t have to think too much during this dance. I just got to enjoy the world around me and be as silly as possible. We cheered for a 90-something-year-old listening along and jumped alongside kindergarteners. Everyone was equal in their pursuit of movement. Reboot’s founder always shouts out the substance abuse recovery community that pulls up to these gatherings.

I’m in this search for highs that wants to end somewhere dignified. Reboot feels like a nice, safe weekly place to find this. Dancing at the club provides this, too, but I want something sustainable. I think most cult searchers, if not looking for daddy, are looking for highs. What happens after achieving the goal of living and slaying in New York but then all of the other goals thereafter (work to the bone, have babies) aren’t what I’m looking for at the moment? I’ll keep looking on the pier.

Tell me some of the ways you safely chase highs, and take me with you!

PS: Real ones remember that I live close to a club that is half-outdoors (illegal?) and blasted music for the majority of the summer until it closed. Lately, there have been these secret parties going on inside in the early morning hours. I am writing to you, unfortunately, hearing the first loud outdoor music of the year. Pray for me!