Mostly the downs, today.

Not that I feel depressed, exactly. Just pensive and emotional and introspective. Time for another emoto-dump.

I know I have said this so many times before, but I just get so goddamned sick of this life of mine sometimes. I feel like everything I do is pointless, I am just a cage-mad predator pacing mindlessly in their enclosure, and part of me really wants to bust the fuck out.

But I am both prisoner and prison, and you cannot escape yourself. These chains I wear, I forged over many yearsm, and I can’t just shed them and leave them behind.

After all, they’re part of me.

And so I am stuck with this interminable process of integration. I want to get out there and start living, dammit. Half my life is already over and I’ve barely done anything with it.

That is why I envy those people who have the ability to transform and transcend. Right now, in my current state of dissatisfaction and frustration, having a huge emotional crisis that hurts and is crazy and maybe even lands me in the hospital, but transforms me into a better stronger saner version of myself, sounds a hell of a lot better than watching the waning seconds of my life tick by as I undergo this slow, constant reintegration.

But I lack that capacity. I am too smart, too sensible, too stable (ha!), and too rational to go crazy like that, even if it would help me in the end.

I have used the bright light and sharp vision of a robust and muscular rationality as a tool for self-control for so long that I have forgotten how to let go. I feel like I always have myself in my own spotlight, alone but never unwatched, under constant surveillance in order to maintain the status quo.

And that is great…. for stasis. The pure unblinking light of self-analysis does not allow for change. It keeps everything the same by allowing for no darkness in which to transform. It monitors itself rigorously in order to make sure everything stays the same down to the very last decimal point.

And it is a cold light. So very, very cold.

A bargain was struck at some point, where in return for the feeling of understanding, control, and power that these high-beam headlights of mine give me, I sacrificed any hope for change, transformation, personal warmth, and most importantly, forgiveness.

Because that bright cold light does not and cannot forgive. The relentless search for the truth does not allow for any comforting illusions, functional delusions, deliberate confusions, or temporary solutions.

That is why it denies me any possibility of wholeness. Most people, healthy people that is, achieve their harmony with life by developing a set of beliefs about the world which are not exactly accurate in the objective sense but which serve to fill holes in their understanding of the world and which give them comfort and stability, and most importantly, makes them whole and functional and sane.

But that is not possible for the likes of me. I made the Truth my God at a very young age, and it is an illuminating and powerful master, but harsh and unforgiving as well.

And the real irony is, it’s not as though everything this mind of mine produces is the capital t Truth. I am as deluded as anyone else. Arguably, even moreso, as shown by my mental illness.

I am a crazy person. But don’t worry, folks, I am the harmless kind who doesn’t do anything crazy in public to upset or threaten you. I don’t even spread my sadness to others. With others, I never show sadness at all.

I just quietly suffer in my lonely room, not being a bother or a burden to the public. Of course, that means I don’t attract any help, either.

When helping my therapist with the very long process of applying for full disability, the subject of my problems with asking for help came up, and that got me thinking about it.

It is truly a crippling symptom, because it’s the one that keeps you from getting the treatment for all other symptoms. In that sense, it’s really a meta-symptom. I find it really hard to ask for help, even when the people I am asking are people who provide that kind of help for a living.

I get so overwhelmed with feelings of unimportance and unworthiness that I just can’t do it. I internalized a deep deep sense of a very powerful kind of shame when I was young that was reinforced by my parents’ offhanded rejection, nay, negation of my concerns whenever I worked up the courage to ask for something.

You can hurt your kids a lot of ways without ever raising your voice or getting angry.

So now I struggle to cope with this profound feeling that I do not deserve anything, even life itself, let alone food, shelter, water, and space to live. Deep down, I feel like I am a repulsive creature who should go bury himself in a deep dark hole and stay there till he dies because he his far too horrible for anyone to ever love and the best that he can expect from the world is bare tolerance, and that solely out of pity.

And even that makes me feel terrible guilty, because I know I am just a burden to these people, one they regret ever taking on because I am way more trouble than I am worth and they had no idea what they were getting into when they let me into their lives, and they would be so much happier without me around to drain the life out of everything and foul everything up.

Hence, the times when I wished to negate myself. Maybe the world a better place by taking myself out of it.

It’s been a while since I felt that way, but that part of me is still there.

Thank God I have great friends in my life to give me a light to follow away from that dark path.

A warm, nourishing light.