I’ve previously remarked on how the ability to write a blog entry was usually driven by something or another content-wise.  Part of the problem has been knowing where to start but once I’ve started, well, as you know, from the lengths of previous blog entries, there’s usually very little stopping me.

This is it I think (although I try not to be complacent having fallen off the proverbial wagon before).  I have recovered.  Equally so, I have frequently both reflected and, dare I say, reminisce, and that reflection and reminiscing continues to be that I have ‘been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, seen the movie’ etc. – you know the spiel.

I am at peace.  I used to hate those feelings of paranoia that seemed to be so prominent, and those moments of strategic planning before, during and after the event, and, rather like a train moving slowly down a track, although it would get to its intended destination eventually, it would take time, and there would be a time where those waiting for it on the platform would eventually see it in view in the distance before it arrives in full view.

Another of my wild metaphors there.  But that scenario can be compared to the feelings in which I have, over a period of time, gradually be able to see things increasingly more clearly, in perspective, probably recognising that it would take a while to get somewhere, yet waiting and carrying on as before in the meantime.

Everywhere I am and everything I do, I can merely get on with it now and experience whatever it is for what it is without some sub-conscious undercurrent.  Sure, I know that the man cave was a place of indulgence, the workplace one of occasional secret indulgence, and there are certain places where I can reflect and/or am reminded on the act of something I can barely even write the name of now.  You know the subject matter, so let’s see how long I can carry on writing without making a direct reference.

There are no stimuli, nothing on TV makes me want to, makes me cringe or recoil, nothing I see on the way to work makes me yearn, plan or anything like I have done in the past.  Nothing.

I’ve begun to appreciate the value in doing many other things and planning to do other things – even just chilling out.  There has been and continues to be a great sense of achievement in the things that I’ve done and the many elements of progress in those things.

When I cleared the things away to a remote location, it was without any aim to either get them back in hand  anytime soon, or deal with them in any way. similarly.   I said that when I removed them from the man cave, it was with both eyes averted – as if it wasn’t really me doing it, even though I knew it was.  If I’m honest, those eyes were averted through determination to move on, remove and avoid, temptation, yet why did I not simply throw those items away at that time?

You’ll know, if you have been reading this blog for a time, that I’ve had purges many times in the past, wondering why it happened initially, then finding out what the act was through on-line learning.   Yet still it happened.  The frequency and worth of what was purged still leaves a deeply rooted, largely indescribable psychological scar yet to fade completely.

Whilst the removal but not disposal of those items was right at the time, my mind is now turning to but is not entirely latched upon total removal, actual disposal – THE final act.

Whilst that process will require significant effort to recover those items, equally so, it will require more of the same kind of strategic planning that applied in obtaining them in the first place, storing them to hand, and finally, taking them away from the man cave recently, that time when I was averting my eyes yet grabbing those items and thrusting them away into a box, out of the corner of my eye, and then storing them remotely away, and all of the strategic planning that went on to do that, before, during and after those months and years of indulgence.

I don’t think I’m yet fully able to take the necessary steps to dispose of the items, nor am I inclined to do so right now anyway.  I can’t be bothered.  It’s not important.  It’s not a priority.  In all honesty, I’ve got better things to do, but there will come a time when the final entrails of a now distant way of life can and should be dealt with.

I continue to indulge myself in man scaping, but there is no longer the minutiae of tidying the odd bit remaining here and there as part of only partially acknowledged OCD.  I might if I was more so inclined, but for no other reason than I might have nothing better to do and be distracted in that way in the moment.   When I go for those regular man scaping sessions, it is merely because that is how I prefer to be, I am more comfortable, more clear of mind in being that way.

Those items I talked about and indeed, that way of life which occupied my life for so long, is a World away.

I’ve still not said how I’m managing to do it, to stop, to move on.  With apologies, the reason for that is that it’s not something I’ve yet been able to put into adequate words.  That’s for another day.