I’ve been re-evaluating what constitutes a self-destructive impulse.
Previously, it was simple : a self-destructive impulse was an impulse to do something that seems self-destructive. Something that is not smart or logical or sensible or profitable or safe or maybe even sane.
Makes sense. But then, it would, wouldn’t it?
But now I am re-thinking things. It seems to me that labeling impulses self-destructive merely because they violate prudence is very short-sighted and limited of me.
Sure, some impulses are to be suppressed because they are, well, bad.
But some that seem bad may, in fact, come from my deeper mind seeking the inputs and experiences it needs in order to help me grow and heal and change.
Maybe sometimes you have to do the seemingly stupid self-indulgent short-sighted things in order to gain the painful wisdom and have the important experiences that you need in order to move forward in life.
Maybe the problem with us “sensible” types is that we never have the negative experiences that translate mere theoretical knowledge into the far more visceral, gut-level knowledge that actually changes you deep down in your soul and makes you a wiser, deeper person instead of one who trying to live their life by reason alone.
All through my teen years, I patted myself on the back because I wasn’t one of those teens obsessed with going to parties and getting drunk and doing drugs.
I was too “smart” for that.
Yeah bullshit. I was way too much of a pussy for that. I was a socially scarred scaredy-cat who chose to stay at home and consume media rather than go out into the big bad scary world and have actual experiences.
The truth is, you’ve got to do things to learn things. That’s what most people know that I have not, historically. Sometimes you have to follow those crazy impulses in order to see where they might lead. Sometimes you have to test your impulses to learn which ones you can trust. Sometimes you have to indulge your impulses in order to feed them and keep them healthy.
Sometimes, you have to reach out and touch the flame.
Even though you know it will hurt. You know it will damage you. You know that it’s a completely insane and stupid thing to do.
But that’s just theoretical knowledge. And theoretical knowledge is a cold and tenuous thing to build a life on. Without experience to add weight and substance to your soul, all you have is a sad little skeleton shivering in the dark and wondering what is wrong with the universe that it has so little nourishment in it.
Well, little skell, the truth is that life’s a feast and most poor bastards are starving to death. You wonder why you’re starving but the truth is, you barely even believe in food.
If you could just empty your mind and free your soul, you could be an omnivore and take your emotional nutrition wherever you find it, like everyone else.
You don’t have to be so special just to be okay.
So bow your head, and dig in.
More after the break.
Burns so good
When I was a little kid and bored on a hot summer day, sometimes I would find a section of sizzling hot pavement and press my hand on it for a moment, and hear the tiny little sizzle sound.,
And yeah, it hurt a little. But it also felt really good. The cooler (than the pavement) air against my newly “cleansed by the flame” skin felt amazing.
Above all, it was a really clean feeling. Like once all the dead skin on my hand was burned away, my skin took a great big breath through its newly unclogged pores and heaved a hearty, blissful sigh.
That’s how I learned a tiny lesson in how suffering can bring relief. And by extension, how a narrow interpretation of hedonism as purely a matter of avoiding pain can lead to greater suffering by blinding you to that kind of relief.
And lately, I have felt that kind of lesson calling to me.
Something in me wants pain. Literal, physical pain. And as per our discussion in part 1 of today’s entry, I am pondering how to give it what it wants safely.
It’s definitely not out of some sense of being a bad person who deserves to be punished. I don’t think I even have that circuit installed.
No, it’s more like I have this restless ache that I know, deep down, the right kind of pain could relieve. A kind of deep tension that cries out for pain to come and turn a vague but maddening lingering pain into a moment or two of intense suffering then relief.
It would make sense if this is what finally gets me to start exercising. After all, the main reason not to exercise is that it hurts.
And it might do that eventually. But I have so much of depression’s anti-action bias built up that it is going to take a while for me to hack through till I can actually connect need to desire to intention and finally to action once more.
Right now, feeling like doing something and actually doing it are miles apart for me. I am far, far too accustomed to just burying and ignoring 99.999 percent of all my desires and intentions and drives and only acknowledge that tiny number that I am used to.
And even then, I do those things (like playing video games) more out of habit and not wanting to have to figure out what to do with myself than any real desire.
I just compulsively bury my head in my usual activities and make a point out of never lifting my head and looking out at that big bright beautiful world out there because it will only make me sad.
No, that’s not true.
It will also make me feel scared and overwhelmed. Maybe because I am trying to take it in all at once and that’s not possible. I dunno.
But I am constantly nudging myself closer to the light.
And I am not afraid that it will burn me any more.
Because it’ll burn SO good.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.