I think I have figured something out.
Instead of constantly trying to figure out what the “right” thing to do is, why not give myself a break and just worry about what the most “me” thing to do is?
I think this might be what all the “be true to yourself” bullshit I have heard in my lifetime was getting at. Before now, it seemed insipid.
Of course I’m being myself. Who else could I be? Whatever I do, I’m doing it as me.
Thus I once more, with brilliant logic and wit, keep good advice from helping me.
Yeah! That’ll show it! How dare it try to CHANGE me?
But that’s a topic for another time.
Anyhow, I think that’s the idea : ground yourself in your own identity and base your decisions on that. That must go how a robust sense of self is nurtured and grown.
Turns out, it only grows if you feed it. Go fig.
I think this is another case where my intellectualism has done me wrong. Acting from one’s fundamental sense of self is a lot like acting by instinct or without thinking.
After all, a sense of self can’t think things through before making the best logical choice!
And my icy intellectual empire doesn’t normally allow for making such off the cuff decisions. Its rules state that the only way to get the right answer is through the rational analysis of all available options done in a calm and deliberate fashion.
Which is staggeringly stupid.
Because how often is that even possible? Life has far too many choices to make for it to be possible to think them all through.
Plus it’s such a waste of mental energy. Energy that could be better used in many other ways. Like for instance, boosting and stabilizing one’s mood.
What a concept.
The only way to totally keep from having to make those split-second realtime decisions that I fear so much is to isolate yourself from nearly all involvement in the real world and limit yourself to hyper predictable and controllable circumstances where nothing unexpected ever happens.
Check, and check.
And it sucks. Dealing with things in realtime is stimulating and exciting. Without it, even the most amazing of video games provides far too little in terms of food for the spirit and zest for living.
It’s all just cold comfort anyhow. One cannot thrive on mental stimulation alone. It has to be offset by time spent in the actual, fully stimulating real world.
Like I wrote in a notebook way back in high school : I can’t live my life like I’m not personally involved. Icy detachment might be good for preserving objectivity and getting certain kinds of answer, but you sure as fuck can’t live your life that way.
Trust me. I’ve tried.
In fact, I am still trying as I type this.
But I am trying to learn to change. To get away from this fucking computer and go experience life for a change, even if all I do is sit on a nearby park bench and watch the world go by while soaking up the fresh air and sunshine.
That sounds really good, doesn’t it?
Maybe I will even do it some day.
More after the break.
My larval form
What if all this time wasted spent playing video games for the last 25 was not a waste at all. but a completely necessary stage of development that had to happen in order for me to become whatever it is I am meant to become?
Maybe this time of seeming depression and sloth has merely been my period of being suspended in my chrysalis as I slowly develop into something magnificent and soaring that can light the world up with love and hope when it finally emerges.
And maybe it will only live for a day.
But at least it will live.
Surely I will not be stuck being the World’s Oldest Caterpillar till the day I die. I can feel things changing and evolving inside me. My find is slowly and carefully purging itself of all the old toxins and filling in the gaping wound left by my being raped as a toddler, replacing it with pink healthy flesh.
It’s slow going, because that which repairs is also that which is being repaired. And I have no mechanisms to force renewal. No release valves, no system purge buttons, no manual rebooting, no restore from clean backups.
Pretty sure to restore from a clean backup, I would have to revert to the age of 4..
And I am far too sane for that. Too stable. Too “smart”.
Which is why I can only progress at this steady, plodding pace. No nervous breakdowns, identity collapses, psychotic breaks, or any other sudden and violent forms of my hidden issues taking over and doing what needs to be done for me to heal.
Instead I have to take the slow and painstaking route of putting it all into words.
Again, though, perhaps that’s all just a part of my spiritual development. Perhaps my role in life is to walk that long dark trail through the valley of madness while remaining lucid enough to make a map to help others find their way to the light.
Maybe when this stage of my development is over, I will be something entirely new. The next stage of human social evolution. The person who can start a new era just like Jesus did. And Martin Luther. And MLK. And all my other heroes.
This world needs a spiritual, political, and ideological jump start. A kick in the pants to get that process of renewal going and let us heal all our old ills so that we might start over, fresh and new, and with our baskets filled with all the best from the previous era.
Yes, maybe I can start the new revolution.
But first, I need a nap.
Rest well, little rebel.
Maybe you’ll be born tomorrow.
Which is when I will talk to all you nice people again.