I Don't Think About Work All The Time Anymore And I'm Seriously Way Happier by Charlie Hoehn

For a long time, I thought I was going crazy. I’d convinced myself that something horribly wrong was about to happen. I thought I would be stabbed, shot, or arrested every time I left my apartment. I was sure that there was an impending disaster that would melt the social contract and pit my neighbors against me. I saw criminals and undercover cops everywhere I went. All that “world is coming to an end” talk — I bought into it.

Every moment was exhausting. I dreaded being around more than one person at a time. I eyed everyone like they were judging me, pitying me, or attempting to manipulate me. My attention was divided in every interaction: one half of me would pretend to be normal, while the other half would be trying to keep it together.

I could feel various parts of my face twitching, like I was about to crack. My hands shook constantly. It got so bad that when a friend came to visit me, I couldn’t drink a glass of water because it kept spilling just from me holding it.

I tried to behave like nothing was wrong, when all I wanted to do was lock myself in a room and curl up in a ball. If someone had tapped me in the chest, my body would have shattered. If someone had ordered me to cry, my face would have flooded. I felt fragile, weak, and hollow.

I was ashamed. I didn’t want to be around anyone – not because I stopped liking people, but because I didn’t want them to catch my weird energy. I wearily watched my girlfriend cry when I confided that I felt dead inside, all the time, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

I laid on the ground for 20 minutes one night, wondering whether I should call an ambulance. My heart was beating so hard and fast that I could actually hear it, and my left hand was going numb. My first panic attack.

…

My anxiety lasted for more than a year. It affected how I breathed, how I thought, how I ate, how I slept, and how I talked. I was serious and tired and afraid, all the time. I wanted so badly to return to my normal, lively, care-free, confident self. But I didn’t know how to shake it.

I tried everything to fix myself: meditation, yoga, high-intensity workouts, long runs, therapy, therapy books, keeping a journal, super clean diets, extended fasting, drugs, deep breathing exercises, prayer, etc. I even took a six-week course, made specifically for men who wanted to overcome anxiety. A few of these things helped, a lot of them didn’t. Some of them made things worse.

Then one day, I discovered the cure. When my mind processed it and recognized it was the solution, I started laughing. The answer had been so obvious all along.

In less than one month, I was back to my old self. The cure for my anxiety was free, fun, painless, and immediately effective. I have no fear that those feelings will ever return. If they do, I’ll be able to wipe them out right away.

I hope this post can help you eliminate your anxiety once and for all. It’s not nearly as hard as you think.

…

“Adults are just obsolete children.” – Dr. Seuss

Have you ever witnessed a little kid working out on a treadmill?

Or meeting up with a friend to chat over coffee?

Or wearing a suit and making cold-calls?

Or attending a networking conference to hand out their business cards?

HELL NO. That stuff is lame and boring. If you saw a kid doing any of those things, you would laugh and wonder what the hell was wrong with them.

Kids don’t run to get in shape; they run to feel the grass beneath their feet and the wind on their face.

Kids don’t have a chat over coffee; they pretend and make jokes and explore the outdoors.

Kids don’t go to work; they play their favorite games.

Kids don’t network; they bond with other fun kids while playing.

There is no ego. There is no guilt. There is no past to regret, and no future to worry about. They just play.

And that’s what I’d forgotten, what I’d been missing, all along.

…

Giving myself permission to PLAY was the cure for my anxiety. It was a subtle but powerful shift in how I viewed the world.

For two years, I had unknowingly prevented myself from playing. I am a workaholic, which can be pretty horrible when you work alone. No one tells you to stop or take a break, or that you’re burning yourself out. I’d find myself tethered to the internet all day, sitting in a chair for 10 hours and staring at a bright screen. Even when I was “finished,” I’d impulsively check email several times between midnight and 2 a.m. I know it’s dumb and unnecessary and “What could be so important?” and “You need your sleep,” but I did it anyways. I was oblivious to the fact that my nerves were being frayed for hours on end, and that I desperately needed fun face-to-face time with real human beings.

What made matters worse were the idiotic rituals I’d fallen into. Drinking coffee all day, then drinking alcohol with friends on the weekend. I didn’t get outside, I didn’t move enough, I didn’t sleep enough. My weeks were a cycle of over-stimulation and numbing.

I read Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul. The message of the book hit me like a brick wall – it explained what I’d been doing wrong this whole time. I had completely deprived myself of play for nearly two years! Even when I had been “playing” (doing fun activities with friends), I would still feel guilty or self-conscious. My mind was elsewhere: what I’d done wrong in the past, how I was compromising my future, and how I was wasting the present. I was so critical of how I was living my life that I couldn’t be in the moment.

Getting out of that mentality saved me. I remembered how happy I’d been growing up, even just years before, and I knew why I’d been that way: I’d always allowed myself to play.

…

“A lack of play should be treated like malnutrition: it’s a health risk to your body and mind.” – Stuart Brown

The real problem had been my state of mind. I’d become increasingly adept at rejecting any form of “non-productivity.” I couldn’t allow any form of play if it didn’t contribute to earning money or doing something “meaningful.” Even when I was with friends or doing something that was supposed to be fun, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the time I was wasting. I wasn’t being productive; I was losing valuable time. I had to get back to work!

What would the world do without me and my important work?!

Without realizing it, I became very serious, even though I’d never been serious in my entire life. I couldn’t play because that meant I wasn’t working, and I couldn’t really work because I always felt tired and jaded (because I never let myself play!) This resulted in me convincing myself that life was a miserable grind for adults, and that I needed to be very serious if I wanted to get through it. I approached everything this way, and treated my work as a form of self-imposed slavery.

Little did I know how limiting that mindset was, and how much it was hurting the work I was doing.

…

Play is what has driven and shaped every beautiful part of our culture. Music, concerts, books, cooking, sports, movies, television, fashion, art, video games… We pay for these things so we can experience the fruits of another person’s PLAY. And the most virtuous form of work, according to some of our most revered and accomplished minds, belongs in the realm of play:

“I never did a day’s work in my life. It was all fun.” – Thomas Edison

“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein

“The only way to do great work is to love what you do.” – Steve Jobs

“Without work, all life goes rotten, but when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.” – Albert Camus

“A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both.” – François-René de Chateaubriand

I know a lot of really, really accomplished people. Some of them approach their work in this way — they play. Others are very methodical, rigid, and systematic. It doesn’t look like play – it is unquestionably work. And it took me a long time to finally realize… I do not function well in the latter group.

I HAVE to approach work as play, otherwise my work sucks. When I tackle a problem with a sense of play – voluntarily because I’m inherently attracted to it – my creativity and optimism and happiness soars. I become fascinated with the world. I fall in love with people. And whoever I’m working with helps me make the game more fun, and our positive energy becomes contagious.

I realized that nearly every important career decision I’d made had been rooted in play. All the cool jobs I got – and the very concept of FREE WORK – ultimately came from me viewing the work as a form of play. They were activities I didn’t need to be rewarded or paid for (even though I was), because they were fun. It didn’t feel like hard work because I got to “play” with cool people, I got to be challenged and learn a ton, and most of the time, it felt like it was just a game I’d made up. And that’s where my best work came from: the belief that I was creating and playing my own game.

Once I saw that I’d forgotten to treat my work as play, I knew what I had to do in order to fix it. It was simply a choice.

…

When I moved down to Austin, a friend introduced me to his buddy David via email, and suggested we should meet. David replied to me with the usual request: he asked if I wanted to grab coffee. I paused a moment, then wrote back:

“Hey David, good to meet you. This is an irregular request, but you want to meet up at a park and play catch? Haven’t done that in awhile and it’s a lot more stimulating than sitting around and drinking coffee.”

His response:

“SURE THING. Playing catch sounds like a f*ing blast! I’ll ping you in a bit and if we can’t do it today, let’s play ball tomorrow!”

And it was a blast. It removed the pressure of us having to talk and impress each other, so we could just focus on the game.

I used to feel a bit nervous on first dates. I had to be “on” for hours at a time. The last date I went on was great — the energy wasn’t uptight at all because we played around the whole time. We ordered whisky Shirley Temples, shot cherry stems through our straws at random people, and cracked jokes about the karaoke singers. There were no attempts to be cool or charming, or thoughts about where this date might take us — it was all about making the moment fun.

That’s how I’m approaching my meetings and dates from now on: what games can we play together?

Life is funny. Back in college, I used to read Tucker Max’s site and think, “What a fun guy.” I’d go out with my friends and drink, and we’d try to create our own crazy stories. Now, Tucker is a close friend. We play homerun derby together every weekend. We come up with fun pranks we can pull. We make inappropriate jokes until we’re doubled-over laughing.

I just finished six weeks of improv classes — three hours every Monday. Every session, I was thrust into situations where I was essentially guaranteed to fail and look foolish. At first, I was nervous and slightly mortified. My heart beat rapidly and I would sweat when I had to perform in front of 15 other people. But by the end of the six weeks, improv became a tremendous source of strength. All of us were there to play, to go with the flow and say “YES” to every possible situation we were thrown into, to cheer each other on and have fun together. We all looked foolish, but we all trusted each other. And that’s how it should be all the time — saying “YES” to every moment, knowing it’s another opportunity for you to embrace life and have fun (Improv, by the way, was the most effective remedy to curing social anxiety that I could have possibly conjured).

I’m signing up for more improv classes. I’m scheduling travel. I’m having fun because I’m making play a priority. And you know what? I feel 1000 times better than I ever thought I would. I’m back to my normal self. I love life again.

…

Play is what we all LOVE to do. Play is where our subconscious naturally guides us. Play is the state where we are truly ourselves, once we let go of our egos and fear of looking stupid. Play immerses us in the moment, where we effortlessly slip into flow. Play allows us to imagine, to create, to bond with and understand each other. Play is what creates our strongest social circles.

And most importantly, play utterly destroys anxiety. Play gets you around other humans, face-to-face, and allows you to form a real connection with them. Play allows you to stop taking your life so damn seriously, so you can start living again.

Life was never supposed to feel so serious or scary in the first place! The people who try to convince you that it has to be that way just aren’t very good at playing. They’ve forgotten what it’s like. So have a laugh, remind them, then go find better playmates. Everyone is looking for someone to have fun with. Go out, create your own games, then get others to join in. Just play.

…

If you’re struggling with anxiety… Take a moment to ask yourself the following questions:

1. Am I allowing myself to have regular guilt-free play with friends?
2. Am I sitting and staring at a screen for most of the day?
3. Am I consuming information that’s feeding my anxiety? (e.g. conspiracy websites, fear-mongering news)
4. Am I moving enough each day to exhaust myself? (i.e. lifting heavy weights, playing sports, sprinting)
5. Am I outside getting natural sunlight and fresh air each day? (I couldn’t get enough sun at the time, so I did 30-days of Vitamin-D + fish oil, along with Vitamin-B. Both helped me ease up and feel better)
6. Am I sleeping eight hours per night?
7. Am I consuming too many stimulants (caffeine, sugar, grain carbs) and depressants (alcohol, drugs) throughout the week?

Those are the areas that will help your anxiety tremendously, once you’ve taken steps to fix them.

And if — like me — you realize you haven’t been allowing yourself to play, then go through your “Play History.” Write down all the activities that repeatedly brought you joy from your childhood, then start incorporating them back into your life. For me, it was: baseball (catch and homerun derby), pranks and practical jokes, learning and developing skills, travel, performing for an audience, film, building/creating things, and improv comedy.

You don’t need money to play. You don’t need more free time. You can always do it. Play is a state of mind – it is a way to approach the world.

It’s only a choice: Anxiety or Play. Take your pick.

“Man is God’s plaything, and that is the best part of him. Therefore every man and woman should live life accordingly, and play the noblest games… What, then, is the right way of living? Life must be lived as play…” – Plato

Graduation

It is absolutely wicked that I finally and actually am finished with law school. It is surreal, and I don't even know whether the reality of it has really sunk in yet. May be that's why I am writing this now: to ease the process of addressing those itching thoughts from the dusty coffers at the back of my mind.

Four years in law school have definitely changed me inside and out: I still remember the first time I stepped into my first year, all wide eyed and pumped up with ideals and aspirations, beaming with a go-get-it attitude--but only to be dropped two seconds later from height on a concrete floor, as the first lesson that law school wanted to teach all of us fresh-bloods was how to pick ourselves self up and put those pieces back together again. There are cracks--and visible ones--that will stay with me even after ten, twenty, or fifty years down the line. Some cracks will heal. Some will not. And some will not because I have lost some of the pieces along the way.

It taught me how to swim when I feel like drowning, when the shoreline is nowhere in sight and when there is nobody around to help me stay afloat. It made me overcome my fear of reading: now there are no books too thick, no sentences too long and no phrases stuffed with too many double, triple, quadruple negatives that can intimidate me. It taught me things can be adequate and insufficient at the same time. It introduced me to an imaginary friend of the reasonable man sitting on the omnibus: a man whom I have never met ever, whose mind I could never really figure out, yet who has been present in all my essays. It taught me to write simply, but not simplistically. It taught me that there is no failure, only feedback.

In Canada, it taught me how to be alone.

I too learnt how to say yes--and to give a lot of yeses--even if I don't feel like nodding my head. I got a start the first time I uncovered how much energy, tenacity and discipline I was capable of manufacturing to uphold those yeses. Sometimes I felt like I was a factory: and it did not matter at the time that I was not living because the state of emergency put productivity as number one in the manifesto. I learnt how to exude confidence and competence--to simply deliver!--even where there is only a tiny threat holding things together from crumbling into ashes.

I too learnt how to say no--and to deal with the consequences. I learnt how to bite my tongue.

I once toyed with the question: would my first-year self be proud of the type of person I have become in my fourth year? I am happy to answer: yes. I may have ceased to be an unfiltered and unbridled expression of my passions, and now have become more measured and moderated--some even say high-strung!--but I believe that it is part of growing up and growing out. If there is any regret at all, I would say that I wish I could spend more time in law school to get to know the people there a bit better.

This last semester has been particularly diabolical: the tests (and I am not talking about the exams, well, not only the exams) have been relentless and unforgiving. In midst of falling into the cracks of despair and self-doubt, I chanced upon this which gave me a much-needed encouragement.

As humans we are taught and conditioned to behave as though we have everything together--even when we don't. We get so caught up in our daily life that we have a tendency to forget, everyone has faults and that they hide and try to avoid acknowledging. No one is perfect, not matter how perfect they seem. Not even that one girl you know with a fashion blog--we're all human. It's okay. Just do what you have to do, and don't worry about anyone else. It's okay if you didn't get an A this time on that paper. It's alright to eat that red velvet cupcake and not count the carbs sometimes. You're not lazy for sleeping in on Sunday morning--sometimes your body needs the extra sleep. Don't be so hard on yourself. 

- Anonymous

Pathology

Time/place: minutes to midnight/pathway leading to Starbucks Utown.

*looking at a crying three-year-old walking past* "Sorry kid, life is hard that way."

"Did you just talk to that little girl?"

"Yeah, she needs to learn: life is hard... *laughter* because at the end of the day, what you have is just an empty dance studio, a loud sound system and some dim light--and dance like a crazy person."

---

"I didn't know what came over me. I just really needed to hear that song. It was almost pathological."

*laughter* "I know, it was very funny. I could see your hands shivering and everything."

"But I really, really needed that."

"Yeah, I know how that feels: where you just need to hear a certain song. I have that every morning."

---

"Sorry I was cookoo at the end"

"Loved it hahaha"

"crazy magnus is always more likeable than grumpy magnus xD"

"Lol touché"

":)"

Some Nights

Why don't break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype,
Save that for the black and white.
I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked,
But here they come again to jack my style.

Pull The Trigger With Your Tongue

If you could spit it out, if you could only shout. 
When you open your mouth pull the trigger with your tongue. 

But your heart goes numb, no, you can’t make a sound. 

You can never break the silence in your heart, in your heart. 

You can never break the silence, it’s in your bones, in your bones. 

Even if you break your heart, you set your soul apart. 

Into the self aware you’re just a quiet kid 

It’s all you can do not to blow your head, without make you insane. 

Win

A win is like a drug. Everybody needs to win in one way or another; some more than others. Unfortunately I belong to the latter: I can really use a win right now, if only to fool my self that I am doing fine. Anything--just anything!--and I think I'll be fine.

What I Feel For The Next Two Weeks