As one might imagine, it’s quite crippling.
So much so that it has crippled me for my entire adult life. And I’m 50. It’s become crystal clear to me that this fear of the real world is the central problem from which all my other mental health problems flow like tributaries of a mighty river.
I just can’t handle the real world. So I hide from it. The image in my mind, which is not new, is of me sitting facing a wall with reality behind me as I do my best to drown it out with all my games and distractions.
I was telling Doctor Costin about this today I told him about this all encompassing fear of the real and how I thought it was the ultimate manifestation of my inability to handle any kind of increase in physical or emotional or social stimulation levels without having a phobic response that, more often than not, causes me to form yet another aversion.
I am a very scared man. I just hide it from myself by doing everything the fear tells me to do and thus staying in my teeny tiny comfort zone, where I an pretend to be a somewhat normal person as long as I never, ever try to escape.
After all, you’re only imprisoned if you want to leave, right?
So ya know… stop wanting that. Problem solved.
As Doctor Costin pointed out, my way out of this mess is necessarily going to involve me fighting the fear head on, and that means going ahead and being scared out of my mind, but keep trying to expand my world anyhow.
I told him how, to me, that felt like walking against the wind. When I try to move forward, the fear comes like a howling hurricane to push me back into my “place” and punish me for daring to defy my depression.
And for a long time, it’s worked. I’ve stayed cooped up in this tomb of a bedroom (bedtomb?), or someplace like it, for my entire adult life.
If you can call me an adult. And call this a “life”.
I certainly don’t feel like a grownup. I feel like a 50 year old man who is at best twelve years old on the inside, without even emotional puberty under my belt.
That might seem harsh, but remember, I did none of the things associated with being a teen. I didn’t develop a group of friends, didn’t “hang out” at some teen social hub, didn’t pursue love or sex or both, didn’t become political, didn’t “network” with other teens, and didn’t try to become part of a larger community.
Any why not? Universal fear, yes. But also, I knew too much. I knew exactly what was going on in my body and exactly what other teens did and why and so I couldn’t do what I was supposed to do, which was to follow my instincts like everyone else.
I was so fucking stupid, thinking I knew better.
I knew nothing. The dumbest person in my graduating class knew more than me. They had the privilege of being too dumb to know what was going on and therefore not being able to interfere with or resist it and fuck everything up.
There are mistakes you have to be an extraordinary genius to make.
And I made all of the them. I should have listened to my hormones and my instincts instead of smugly assuming I was better than everyone else because I didn’t.
Kinda too late to fix that now, ain’t it?
More after the break.
I like to eat Vegetable Thins. I also like to eat Vegetable Fats, but that’s just canola oil.
The less said about Animal Thins, the better.
And Mineral Thins taste awful.
Gone with the wind
I ran out of my antihistamines a couple of days ago.
Normally, you see, Joe buys them for me. Because he’s super awesome like that. But Joe’s still in the hospital and isn’t going to be coming out any time soon, or so it seems, and so a lot of little things he does have gone by the wayside, leaving Julian and I (mostly him) scrambling to pick up the slack and really appreciating how much of the day to day operations of this household rely on good ol Joe.
So right now, I got snot running down my face in the wake of a sneezing fit, and it’s making me think about how much I really miss Joe and wish he was healthy and home and it has nothing to do with the little things he does and everything to do with missing the hell out of my dear friend and being worried sick about his health.
No, the verbal irony of being worried sick about someone being sick is not lost on me.
And I know this worry has been acting on my mood a fair bit. In some ways, it has made me a lot more melancholic and sad than usual.
But on another level, I think that sadness has pushed me into greater insight into myself. Often it is our own pain that pushes us towards empathy and understanding, especially when that pain involves concern for another, and I feel like that is what has been happening with me.
It’s like my worry for Joe has opened up my heart and energized my emotions and melted some of the ice that clings to my soul, and that got everything flowing and got me feeling everything I can at last.
More. I want to feel more. I want to feel everything there is to feel. I have been cold and sleepy and inert for far too long. I want to be alive and if that means pain and sadness and feeling lost, so be it.
I’d rather feel pain than feel nothing.
At least pain means something.
And if it’s emotional pain, at least you feel better after.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.