Prepping Thoughts
There's something missing, always.
I have been an obsessive collector of instructional materials for as long as I remember. I had convinced myself if I had just one more manual or one more video or one more item that everything would be in place and then I could move forward.
What I didn’t take into account was another obsession, which was biographies. I read about all my favorite people and found that the most interesting part of all these books was the first half, the half that described the struggle, the obstacles, and the solutions that eventually allowed the person I was reading about to become a person worthy of a biography. The second half that told about who they became was much less interesting. I possessed a large collection of books that were only half read.
This mindset never really went away.
“The thrill is in the chasing
The pursuit you see
But never the arrest.”
-Tom Waits
I recently inherited a large amount of prepping supplies, including six 3-month buckets of MRE’s, water purification tablets, fire starting pellets, nutritional chews, and too much else to list.
Up until I came into possession of this, I had been thinking that if I acquired shelf stable food and other supplies that I would be okay and wouldn’t have to worry about industrial civilization collapsing because I would be ready.
That’s not the case.
I now have all the things I thought I would need, and the first thought that came to mind was what else should I get.
I am a victim of the consumption addiction.
Having been indoctrinated, since a young age, in the religion of consumption, I found that this addiction doesn’t just go away, each addition fosters the desire for another addition.
Hi, my name is Michael, and I’ve been an addict for 70 years.
There are no 12-step programs to deal with this.
No meetings in church basements that I can attend when the craving for more strikes.
No sponsors to help get me back on track if I feel myself slipping back into old patterns.
You don’t have to go to dark, seedy parts of town to get a fix for this addiction, you don’t have to inject anything in your veins, or drink anything, you just have to go to the local grocery store and buy another 5-gallon jug of water, one more can of beans, or another box of bullets.
There are no Methadone or Suboxone treatments to alleviate the cravings and help to wean ourselves off and reduce the withdrawal symptoms.
There is only one cure.
Learn to live without.
Learn to enjoy simplicity.
Learn to say enough is enough.
Learn to revel in the freedom of not having rather than the prison of having more and more.
Most importantly, we must learn and understand that in this increasingly perilous environment, everything can be taken from you in an instant, and we have to be okay with that.
This will be the hardest road we have ever travelled.
I learned a long time ago that you should only have enough prepping supplies to fill up a large rucksack. If you can't carry it, you don't need it. I can't carry a 60 lb. ruck anymore like I used to do in the Army but I still have my absolutely bugout essentials standing by. Nowadays, I plan my bugout supplies around what I can carry in my RV. I plan to see what's coming long before it gets here and bugout before it arrives on my doorstep. I want to avoid choked highways full of refugees. With the weather events I can do that. Also for violent rebellions. Those I can see ahead of time and get out if needed.
For the unforeseen, well, I guess I'll be like everyone else. Deal with it and pick up what's left. But that's only if all else fails. Ideally I want to be able to get out of Dodge before the bad things come. I'm ready.
Fortunately, I had a 12-step sponsor in Wisconsin, who got sober living in his midsized car in Hollywood while he was trying to make it as a standup comic. He was a farm boy who had run away from the farm and travelled through south Asia. He learned to travel and live light, ready to move on at a moments notice. I was living in 7 BR 7 BR mansion in West Michigan when I retired from medical practice and moved back to my once beloved Wisconsin and met Jim in a small town 12-step mtg, where neither he no I "fit in". I'm over 14 yrs. sober now and live in a 1 BR 1BR student apt. in a small Ohio city, where i still don't "fit in", but don't really give a good damn. I have my books (600, not the 23,000 I had in the mansion) but I have accepted the fact that I will NEVER "fit in" and enjoy every moment. Jim's parents have died and he's back in LA with his Israeli love interest and I no longer attend local 12-step mtgs, because, yup, you guessed it, I don't "fit in". I now understand that I am a childhood sexual abuse survivor and only child of two profoundly narcissistic parents, who were that way due to the deaths of their parents. I, also, know from experience that most 12-step attendees are afraid to face their own abusive childhoods. So, I take my walks down to the Muskingum River, in spite of the incessant loud vehicular traffic, I've written and published my "Stress R Us" tour d force after a 42 yr. career as a physician/psychiatrist, and at 80, I'm ready to transition back to star dust whenever my Better Angels decide I should join them. Have a blessed day and checkout "Greeley's Newsletter" on substack.com for psychoanalyses of Hitler and Tramp, etc.