Tim Lundmark's Blog, page 9

Why Does My Illogical Need To Live Override My Logical Desire To Die?

I enjoy philosophical riddles, and I spend far too less time working on them. The reasons do not matter. I am confronted with one riddle in particular day in and day out… Why have I not or cannot kill myself?

I have gone through my fair share of suffering, and for most of my life battled with the will and desire to no longer be alive. I have many times and still want to die. I do not want to exist. So why at this moment with how I feel and have felt I must ask myself. Why am I breathing and writing this?

This has been a philosophical puzzle that has plagued and tortured me. I have come up with many theories, reasons, and excuses for why I have not.

No point in running the list. What I came up with and I feel so blind for not figuring this out. Its our primal directive to survive. Its ingrained within us and drives everything. This directive is so powerful that I cannot overcome or find the courage to end my suffering.

To me logic and reason would dictate that ending suffering is the only thing that makes sense. Every other theory I have ever had about why I am still alive stems from this roadblock.

How can this override clear logic and reason of not wanting to suffer? How can this seed allow us to self deceive ourselves against the logical course of action. How and at what point can this will be broken down?

God Needs Love To Stay Relevant.

“Human beings must be known to be loved; but Divine beings must be loved to be known.”

Blaise Pascal

Imagine if society as we know it were to completely crumble, ravaged with war, along with��our complete loss of technology. Countries would soon��begin to crumble; social unrest would cause unimaginable destruction. Lets��take our imagination exercise further; during all of this chaos and destruction,��only 5-10% of the human population survived. All technology and anything related to it is gone, and very few things��such as books, paintings, or structures remain. Being resilient creatures it is only��logical mankind will��slowly start to re-build.

Everything we know today would be a distant memory. Soon future generations would have no idea what ���The Mona Lisa��� looked like, or in some cases didn���t even know it had existed. Now imagine if the Bible and all other religious scriptures had been destroyed in the mayhem. With every passing��generation the concept of religion as we know it today would have all but disappeared. It would be foolish not to factor in��the 5-10% of those who survived, for arguments sake lets say��there��was no one dominant believe system among the survivors. The people who survived each carried with them one of our many different theological beliefs, but no religious doctrine survived.

Let us continue down this rabbit��hole of imagination and say a few Greek Mythology books survived the downfall of man (Yes I am aware this can be considered theology, but I include it only because unfortunately it has been downgraded to “mythology”.) Future generations would��logically begin to��worship Zeus, and the many other Gods behind said “mythology” and believe this to be religious fact. Even if these books did not exist it is possible for a new generation to create a completely different religion based on the remnants from the downfall.��Of course these remnants would be��added to with��stories passed down from generation to generation.

I feel it is impossible to have a society without the driving force of religion; whether it is to calm fears or to control the population. Religion although perverted and corrupt is a necessity; eventually new religions would be formed to meet these needs. Imagine if the book ���Moby Dick��� survived the collapse of man. All it would take is one charismatic individual to start preaching the ���religious��� lessons contained in this book, and just like that a new religion is born. In time as other books are collected they are added to the “Holy Scripture.” Let���s say ���Huckleberry Finn,��� ���Hamlet,��� and ���The Lord of the Rings��� also survived. These various��works of fiction��are then woven together in a collection of stories to form a new Bible, and out they go to preach the Word, promising life hereafter in Middle Earth.

People are hardwired to need religion in their life, if this were not the case religion would have died out long ago as man discovered science and logic, because of this primal hardwiring��they would latch onto this with all their might, replacing, refuting, and stumping scientific and logical advancements.��I am sure whoever put this ���Bible��� together would take some liberties and add their own material just like the Catholics did when choosing which books to include in the Bible. This new congregation would set out to spread the gospels of William Shakespeare, J.R.R. Tolkien,��Mark Twain,��and Herman Melville, murdering all those who believed differently then they do. In time this religion and its created deities would become reality.

Now here is my question. If all of these things were to actually��happened, then does the God of the Bible now cease to exist? If no one knew what a Bible even was, would the God of the Bible come down and start interacting with humans to show us he still existed? Although God made a promise he would never do it again, would he burn then flood the entire world only leaving one family to partake in incest to rebuild the world? If we look at history there have been many different religions that people have blindly followed. As time passed newer, cooler, more convenient, and��better suited��religions for social control��became dominant.��Causing all of the long forgotten deities (sorry Zeus)��to be��left behind and forgotten.������

Dreams Is All They Are

Dreams Is All They Are

Its late at night, I drift off to sleep

Dreaming I wake the man you want me to be

When I awake, my dreaming didn���t take

Seeing your unmatched beauty

Lost in your eyes

Mesmerized by perfection

Truly it could take only a God

To bless us with you

It���s late at night, drifting off to sleep

Dreaming I wake to a day where you see me

When I awake my dreaming simply didn���t take

I notice you light up a room

Lost in your eternal light

I walk by with childhood nerves

Hoping you will shine

Your light upon me

It���s late at night, drifting off to sleep

Dreaming I wake to a day I hear you speak

When I awake my dreams simply didn���t take

I hear your voice on the phone

The sound of trumpeting angels fills the room

My body filled with such excitement

Excitement over the chance

Those trumpets will be directed at me

It���s late at night I drift off to sleep

On those lucky nights when I dream

It is about you

Caressing your cheek, a gentle kiss

Smiles and laughter

Embraced with love

Our suffering freed by a dove

When I awake my dreaming simply didn���t take

These are dreams I know I shall miss

It was you who washed away the dirt

Giving me hope to a brighter future

A chance at what love was meant to be

Dreams

This is all I have

Dreams

Is all they are

By: Tim Lundmark

Signed Drawing and Poem Available at

http://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

 

Why Am I Still Alive?

48 days ago I was going to commit suicide, yet here I am. I have been in deep self-reflection questioning and wondering why I am still alive. Six years ago was the last time I had an identical plan, preparations, suicide note and the intent to end my life, yet here I am. The suicide note I wrote six years ago resulted in a published book of poems, so I again ask myself what if anything will result from this intervention. I question and wonder was it divine intervention, or chaos theory which caused the series of events thwarting my plan to end my pain and leave this world behind.

The dark part of my mental illness comes with battling suicidal ideologies. The want and need to no longer be is always lingering; internally the battle rages on between selfishness and selflessness, feelings of hopelessness and hopefulness. Do I continue living in pain to spare the pain my death would cause to those who love me, or do I finally obtain peace and nothingness? There have only been three times in my life where selfishness had truly won, and I was at peace with my decision. I was more prepared and 100% ready to get the fuck out of here. I was no longer able to function with the pain. I started working on the details of the finality of my life about a month before I planned to carry it out, but before my much anticipated release, chaos erupts and in the blink of an eye everything turns to shit��� or does it?

The story on how I ended up making my final decision is long and complicated, some of it I have written about, much of it went unwritten. I feel it would be therapeutic and helpful for me to go back and fill in the gaps between the post I wrote about moving out of the house and starting the divorce process through today. I know taking ownership and facing the reality of the roles I played in all of this will be difficult, but it needs to be done. With that being said the path I was on started with moving out and separating from my wife, and ended with me moving back home, everything in-between felt like a dream I couldn���t wake up from. So how and why did I get from there to here?

Six days prior to my date with nothingness, I discovered tangible proof of some disturbing shit involving my roommate and my daughter. My roommate and my daughter became a key component for my motivation and drive to end it all. I knew if I was no longer alive than she would have no choice but to move out of that house; I knew my blindness and denial was destroying her, but it was the shattering of this denial which caused me to flip out.

I was on the phone with my uncle and after a month of planning and silence I go on a rant about what I just found out about my roommate, I reveal my original plan and introduce the new addition to my plan. My uncle calls my sister; my sister calls the cops, and the cops show up beginning a series of events that led me here. This still doesn���t answer my question as to why I am still alive. With all of this added chaos and bullshit it should have been easier to keep my date with destiny, yet here I am.

Why��� the only conclusion I can come to is I have been given a second chance. A second chance at making right all the wrongs in my marriage and with my children. My final safety net keeping me from offing myself has always been the impact it would have on my family, my safety net was gone. I had lost my family, but when my daughter and I moved back home that night I was filled with so many conflicting emotions; none of which involved suicide.

I am still lost in the forest of darkness and despair, the cause and effects of that night has actually caused greater stress and worry, yet here I am. My hopelessness has been replaced with hopefulness. This may be delusional thinking, but I feel I have hit the reset button on life giving me a clean slate at becoming a better husband and father. Is this why I am still here, to be a better husband and father? Is this divine intervention or chaos theory? Will this hopefulness last, or will hopelessness return?

The Puppet Master & The Never Ending Night

 

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

Both drawings are limited numbered and signed, and come with a free signed copy of the poem.

 

Check it out

The Random Artist Has Been Created

I am happy to announce the opening of my online art shop TheRandomArtist. My shop is located on the website etsy.com. I wrote awhile back about the discovery of my ability to draw, and how this new-found ability boosted my confidence in myself. I received some awesome feedback from co-workers and friends on Facebook, and I was encouraged to start selling my art. At first I was unwilling to sell any of my originals because they held great meaning to me, it was suggested to me that I should start selling my prints. I thought this was a great idea, but honestly I lacked the confidence that anyone would actually buy anything. I once again turned to Facebook for some much-needed feedback, which gave me the final push of confidence to put myself out there, and risk facing one of my worst fears… rejection. Since I am not known as an artist it was decided to sell limited numbered signed prints at a low price, which ended up doing well on Facebook. Once I sold a few drawings I discovered Etsy and created my shop.

Each drawing is limited numbered 1/25 and signed, most of my drawings either inspired poetry, or my poetry inspired the drawings. If you purchase any of these drawings they will come with a free signed copy of the poem. At this point I cannot say this new venture has been a success. I have only sold one drawing, but when I received the notification of the sale, it was one of the top ten greatest moments of my life. I hope once I am able to get all of my drawings on the site I will begin to sell more.

My biggest problem is the lack of traffic to my store. Etsy provides any shop owner with the ability to market using a bidding system, in my opinion this type of marketing is high risk with a low probability of any kind of return on my investment. I decided to turn to my trusty blog to try to get the word out. I have wanted to do this for sometime now, but to be honest with you, it is very difficult for me to write. When I started this blog I wrote in it almost everyday, in doing so I noticed my writing skills improved. My writing skills have deteriorated ever since I stopped writing on a regular basis. I have written some random posts here and there, and noticed how poor my writing has become. One of the many things on my to do list is to write daily, not only to regain my lost skills but I also need to express my thoughts and opinions so they do not stay trapped in my head. unfortunately like many of the other items on my to do list this one goes undone.

If you are one of my many readers who have enjoyed my writings over the years please take the time to visit my shop and check out my drawings. I of course would love the sales, but I could use the feedback from my valued and loyal readers.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

Broken and Trapped Within The Never Ending Night

There is a place we go

Where we cannot find light

Our eyes adjusted

To our own twisted Plight

We hide in places

Live with fright

Within this never-ending night

We roam

We seek

In search of light

Mind to fucked to speak

Within his never-ending night

We reach our hands up high

Seeking comfort from imaginary hands

We find nothing

Only the pain

Which never went away

No end in sight

Within this never-ending night

Scream all you want

No one will hear

Reality is no one is there

I seek

Until my knees are weak

Reality setting in

I have traveled nowhere

Trapped within

My suffocating box

I am in this never-ending night

A feeble prayer

To a God who was never there

The time has come

Within this box

My mind rots

No air

No light

No hope

Only madness

Brought on from my never-ending night

My cold dark stare

nothing is something

Better

Than living in my never-ending night

In my hands

I hold the key

My only freedom

Only escape

From my never-ending night

One blissful pull

I enter into the light

It amazes me how quickly I can be beaten down. How easily I can fall apart. How little I can handle. How easily I can lie to myself. Its borderline delusional laced with denial. Happiness and hope are things I cannot know, let alone ever have. I want the acceptance, of knowing things will never be alright. I want the comfort that comes from embracing this reality. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to think. Life was better when I was dead inside. It is so much better than to continue living a lie.

A New Artistic Adventure

Two years ago by happenstance I discovered I possessed the ability to draw, little did I know this singular event would initiate a butterfly effect that would alter my very existence. A major piece of me died when I quit writing years ago, as a result my dream, joy, and self-esteem died. I was sentenced to an agonizing existence; locked away within my own mind. From time-to-time the memory of how I felt during that period where I was pursuing my dream would take over, and I would attempt to return to my passion very little success.  Something which at one point came so effortlessly seemed impossible. As time passed I lost my creativity piece by piece until I had nothing. One of my only sources of inner and outer positive reinforcement was gone.

Until one day at work mindlessly working the phones I found myself looking at this picture and attempted to draw what I was looking at. To my surprise I was able to produce a near perfect duplicate of what I was looking at. This was just simple line work with no shading or other drawing techniques.  I was so proud of myself I continued to do this working my way up to more complicated and detailed duplicates. In January of this year I completed a drawing I was proud enough of I decided to pin it to my cork board behind my desk. The same day I hung this drawing I started to receive compliments, and positive reinforcement for something I managed to accomplish.  It had been some time since I felt good about myself. This was the only motivation I needed to jump into this drawing thing and seriously work on improving my skills so I could continue to feel positive about myself.

Between the positive reinforcement, along with the return of my creativity I ended up being freed from the shackles of oppression I had been suffering. As my confidence grew, so did the reality and realization of where I was in my life. I went on a journey of honest self reflection of my life, and who I was. This has been a painful, yet liberating voyage I continue to this day. With a little outside push of extreme hurt and betrayal from someone close to me I was given the final reason to end a horrible marriage, and a real chance to experience a new life. The details behind this can be saved for another time.

I am amazed at how much my life has changed from then to now. I started selling my drawings, which if I can figure out how to do it I will begin to post them on my blog. I have started writing again; although I have yet to hit my stride where my thoughts can be translated as effortlessly as before, but I continue to make positive steps forward so I can achieve this once again.

Along with the joy and excitement I am feeling about returning to this blog, the spark to start writing my “Dylan Thomas” children’s book series is alive, and feels like it could actually become a reality. Words cannot describe what I am feeling at this moment. The chance to fulfill a dream I have had since a child has been returned to me, and I intend on embracing this second chance.

Broken Dolls

Broken Dolls

 

Broken dolls destined to walk alone

A journey under the loveless moon

His sinister intention is to shine too bright

Blinding broken dolls by his light

Dreadfully alone wondering the night

Broken dolls from broken homes

Build broken homes of their own

Homes brining in the rays of loveless light

Revealing the pieces of their broken hearts

Fated to break loved ones hearts along the way

New broken dolls introduced to the lonely night

Broken toys for broken boys

Brings broken dreams void of joy

Broken dolls dreaming with fractured minds

Realities scars, damaged beyond repair

Within his mind he can only see the place

Where sinister moons light voided space

Broken dolls hidden in the trash

Away from loveless rays on loveless nights

The sinister moon and his lonely trails

Finally freed from the loveless grasp

But not before leaving tear stained paths

So all the dolls you broke can find the trash

Broken dolls are meant to walk alone

No more broken children left at home

The loveless nights, the sinister moon

Guaranteeing we will break real soon

Within the sunlight’s hopeful mist

Broken dolls will not be missed

By: Tim Lundmark

My Most Shameful Confession

Better Without

I try so hard

Not to become my fathers son

I try so hard

To be a father sculpted by Michelangelo

Painted by da Vinci

Faced with failure

Endless denial

Self deception  

To deny the truth

I am a father designed by an earless madman

I question are they better without

 

Trapped in a Divine Comedy

Inferno is Alpha and Omega

I wish there was a cure

Sadness filled with madness

Meds cannot take away

A brain still in pain

How do you apologize

  When the illness lets them down

The more I write

The clearer it becomes

They may be better without

 

They love the mania

Hate the downs

Flick the switch

From mania to a ditch

Turning from this to that

They never know which dad I’ll be

Denying them the comfort of stability

Please don’t let them be better without

 

What am I then?

A cancer to my family

They know I am sick

They know daddy isn’t the same

Wishing he was someone else

Transparent they see what’s inside

They hate my illness

Hating myself

That shame and stain forever remains

They now question are they better without

Face-to-face with this question

Like a coward I hide

In denial

My blanket of lies

I am their painting of a father

A father my son doesn’t want to become

The question has been answered

They are better without

By: Tim Lundmark

This is a serious and troubling question I have been asking myself for 15 years; which yields a bi-polar answer. Regardless of the feedback and criticism I have heard over and over again during these same 15 years; I always tried to counter act the negatives with positive self talk. As a parent I have made countless mistakes and bad decisions, which only reinforced the criticism I was hearing. Through the years I have had to face some ugly truths about myself, and come to terms with the fact; I can no longer deny the validity of said criticisms. Like most people in the world I blamed others, and made justifications for my actions. Here is where things get complicated; I have never been 100% sure if everything I just said is reality, my wife’s subjective reality, or both. Up until recently I never really knew what to believe.

With everything that has been going on, the way I have fallen apart and the undeniable truths I have been shown I can no longer deny the question of if my children are better off without me in their lives. I have touched on this in a prior post, honestly I can’t handle going into detail on how all of these truths have come together. I have cried so much at work recently I can’t try to truly feel through and process the shame and guilt I feel right now.

In anticipation for the comments I will receive about how important it is for children to have their father’s in their lives; my only reply is they have never experienced living with a father you tried to pray to God would go away. I know this from my ultimate fear of becoming my father’s son, having this fear is proof I would have been better off without. Because of this situation I am fucking them up because I have fallen apart, I am fucking them up because I am leaving, and my wife believes because of my MI, and that I will be on my own the damage I will cause them in the future will be far worse than anything I have done to date. With everything I have done, why would I continue to cause damage to their lives?

I know how badly I have fallen apart at home, and in all honesty I feel things will get far worse before they get better once I leave. I can’t find any logical reason, to put my children through the coming storm.