And I get it.
Except not really.
I have lived for a very long time trying to assert a level of supposed “self-control” that is quite clearly insane.
In the name of this farcical notion of “self-control” I have appointed a very narrow minded and emotionally constipated “committee” in my head that has to be looped in on literally every kind of decision and who is so rectally puckered that it rejects almost every impulse except for a very short list of “safe” options.
Well there’s a big difference between something being normal and something being safe. The fact that an option does not spark anxiety in me is hardly a recommendation and it sure as hell doesn’t mean said option isn’t bad for me in the extreme.
Right now, in my life, I am trying to pry open that clenched aperture and let more sunlight and fresh air into my soul, even if that means being, in the extremely narrow view of that inner committee, “out of control”.
Their idea of control is bullshit anyhow. If I was truly in control of myself, I’d be able to do whatever I wanted to do without having to overcome all this inner resistance. I’d feel free to pursue whatever path strikes my fancy instead of living my life as if video games and blogging are literally my only options.
Like I have as little control over my life as if I was on a very long Disneyland ride.
The real dirty little secret of it all is that I have been in control all this time. The reins are in my hands whether I use them or not. I’m as free as anyone else to pursue my own best interests. Or even just try to have a good time.
There’s lots of fun things to do that aren’t video games. I don’t necessarily have to use video games as my one and only way to absorb all my free time in order to avoid the existential black hole that is trying to figure out what to do with myself.
There has to be a way for me to develop the kind of “evil Kirk” killer instinct that would let me make decisions on my own behalf. I can’t spend my last remaining years sitting at the mother of all crossroads unable to make a move because I don’t know which is the “right” way to go and I am too scared of unspecified terrible consequences of making the “wrong” choice that I don’t dare move at all.
I wonder if anyone out there has exercises for one’s id.
Because mine’s a puny lil thing.
And that means my access to the primary energy of my being is weak and tenuous and that leaves me timid and fearful and easily spooked.
I’m still trying to wake up. To resurrect myself. A great deal of me has been completely dead and/or dormant for so long that sending all my spare energies down into the deepest parts of my mind in order to warm myself up and bring my soul fully online feels like pissing into a well sometimes, but I keep at it nonetheless.
It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.
Still, I know that my progress will continue to be glacial in pace unless something bigger than myself, something I can’t even conceive of, breaks through all my barriers, wrecks the fuck out of the “committee”, and forces me to change.
I’ve never had something more powerful than myself to look up to, be protected by, have the support of, and in general not be so freaking alone in the world.
From an early age, my incredible intellect made me more powerful than all of the adults around me. It’s like I was the kid who puts people in the cornfield in the Twilight Zone.
And that sucks because it means I was almost impossible to parent. So much of how we raise kids relies on the adult being smarter and wiser than the child, and my creepy little self upended that equation.
How do you raise a kid who’s smarter than you?
Well loving me a lot would have helped.
More after the break.
On second thought
On second thought, “impossible to parent” is a vast overstatement.
Granted, my sky high IQ made me somewhat of a handful. I could not easily be dominated by anyone. That approach to parenting would not have suited me.
And I know that cost me something. One kid’s domination is another kid’s safety blanket, after all. Knowing, deep down, that there is someone smarter and stronger and wiser watching over you must give kids a well grounded, secure feeling.
On the other hand, I was a ball of neurosis and anxiety. Afraid of the world because, deep down, I knew there was nobody looking out for me and nobody to pick me up if I feel and nobody to even give a damn what happened to me most of the time.
To be fair, they cared when they remembered to do so. Which wasn’t often.
Dragging myself bodily back to the point, I couldn’t be dominated but then again that was completely unnecessary with me. I was a naturally cooperative and eager to please and highly adaptable kid. I tended to obey adults not out of fear but out of a combination of wanting to help and/or participate and my natural desire to show off and get praise.
What? I’m no angel.
But what I really needed was emotional, not intellectual. That’s why my babysitter Betty could handle me despite having more of a street smarts kind of intellect.
I needed someone to help me feel grounded and oriented and safe. And that would only have taken love. Love I could feel. Love I could count on. Love that could reach me.
I wasn’t born with all this ice around my heart. The right person could have given me the emotional anchor I now lack. The right person could have made all the difference.
That person should have been my mother.
But she was tired.
And I was uninvited.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.