I have reached a certain bridge in my recovery and I feel like it’s a big one.
For a while now, I have been pondering the question of why I am so paralyzed by my depression. Why I find it so hard to actually do things.
Recently, I arrived at the point where I could ask myself the question, “Well why CAN’T I turn all the energies I feel within me into action? Why does it have to destructively flow inward and make me miserable instead?”
The glib answer would be “fear”, but that would be both asinine and useless. It’s deeper and more complex and yet, at the same time more primitive than that.
Right now, it feels like a mental cramp. One in the part of the brain that determines whether or not a given amount of personal energy is directed outwards or inwards.
Mine is stuck in the “inwards” position.
I suppose that’s not all bad. It’s what gives me my towering intellect and fertile creativity and all that jazz.
But none of that is worth a damn if I can’t actually do something with it.
I think that moat I think I mentioned before is to blame. That gap between me and others that got burned into the deepest levels of my psyche when I was raped as a child. Crossing THAT gap would be amazingly helpful.
But that would involved revisiting the memory of the event and I don’t know when I will be able to do that. Soon, I hope. It feels like soon.
I’ve never been closer to being able to do it, anyhow.
It’s this gap that forces the energy to flow inward. At that pivotal moment when the energies are rising towards action, they hit the point where to flow into actuality would require jumping over that gap and that’s where they die.
That where the fear is, too. I am terrified of what would happen if I crossed that bridge. It’s that paralytic dread kind of fear that is not attached to a specific potential consequence. Just the deep down feeling that Something Terrible will happen.
I guess I could force things through. But that might damage the vital system. I think it’s a better idea to simply stay the course and continue to carefully defuse the bomb in my head that is that memory of being raped.
After all, I am almost done.
Then again, I am getting pretty sick and tired of always doing the smart thing. It’s become too heavy a burden to bear, too small a cage to endure. Like I have said before, there is so much more to life than that which makes sense. I would be a fool not to open all the doors I need to open in order to make it to that bigger world.
My id has been stifled for far too long. I am a strong and healthy animal and I need to run free and feel the wind in my fur and feel truly, truly alive.
“Because it will make me feel better” should be enough, all things considered. I feel like at some point I lost the ability to even concieve of looking after my own psychological needs on anything like an active basis.
Instead, I keep myself sedated with my distractions. They drain enough of my excess inner energies for me to feel okay while I am doing them and that gets me through the day with relatively little pain, or at least, little pain that I consciously experience.
Underneath the hood it’s a freaking nightmare.
So now I ask myself the question : what would make me feel better right now?
Affection. Cuddles. Someone who loves and understands me and pays attention to me and is patient with me and who can handle exposure to my megawatt mind without getting freaked out. Someone who is not scared off by either my powerful presence or my many health problems. Someone who handle me.
So a boyfriend, essentially. Or at least some really good sex.
So what I desire most is connection with others. And through them, connection to all the good warm happy emotions I have been denied because of my psychological damage. I wnat to feel the warmth of human contact so that I can, at long last, finally come in from the cold and lay down by the fire and rest.
Maybe even finally get some true sleep. The knd that only comes when you feel safe enough to trust the world not to kill you in your sleep.
And I want this sense of connection and comfort more than anything else in the world. More than fame, money, a position in society, and a steady job combined.
I ave been waiting for such a long time.
What else would make me feel better. Fun, I suppose. Something active and e njoyable that will give me much needed positive input opposing my usual feeling that there is anything out there for me.
So like…. Disney World. I could have a hell of a lot of fun there, especially with some serious amount of spending money so I can buy or eat whatever. I loved my day at Disneyland so much that I am sure I would enjoy Disney World.
Or something a tad more mature, like attending some kind of academic event about a subject I like or really anywhere that I can find good, stimulating, interesting conversation with bright people who have agile minds and their own POV.
Or, of course, some place where I can get that sex I crave. Like the world’s most luxurious gay bathhouse. One with plenty of hot men into fat dudes so I can have as much of everything I want as I like.
An all you can eat man buffer, if you like.
Or hell, just a really good massage from someone who really knows their craft and has dealt with big huge guys like me before and knows how to make those nasty knots of tension melt away.
The point is ot get myself thinking in terms of what I want and what I need and possible routes to my acquiring the same.
Who knows, I might even learn to love myself in the process.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.