OK, let’s try this again, this time trying hard not to let the bad side of my mind deflect unwanted attention by leading me down the path of intellectualization.
Here we go.
Let’s call it what it is : escape addiction.
And it’s a terrible scam to be pulling on yourself because it keeps me in flight mode almost all the time.
It’s a lot like being on the run from the law. Paranoia, suspicion. moodiness, and agitation, all together in the chaos of my mind.
And it’s all for nothing. Nobody is after me. I don’t have to constantly be mentally moving around like a nervous shark because it’s when you’re standing still that they will find me and GET me.
But there’s nobody there. There never has been and never will be. Fear is not evidence of there being something worth fearing.
Reality doesn’t work like that.
And I want to calm down. Really I do. But that scared little animal inside my head won’t let me. It’s still running scared.
And as far as it knows, it’s all this mad scampering around that has kept it safe (ish) all these years. The idea that it’s all been a huge waste of time and a lot of unnecessarily pain and fear and suffering is very hard for it to take.
Way easier to just keep running.
It’s something we know how to do.
But we know the truth now, and the truth is that we are perfectly safe.
Relax and rest, little critter. You’re home now. You made it, You’re safe.
So now what do I do with myself?
More after the break.
So much freedom
Is it possible to be too free?
One of my personal paradoxes is that I inherently and instinctively resist anything that would limit my precious personal autonomy.
But then I fall into hell time and get paralyzed by indecision as my poor brain valiantly tries to process all the variables I fought to preserve.
I absolutely must have my autonomy. But I don’t know what to do with it when I have it.
Clearly something’s got to give. As far as I can tell, the only solution to the burden of days and the infinite hallway of infinite door is to make your decisions based on emotions. What do you feel like doing?
I have no fucking idea.
At least, in terms of things I actually can do. There’s all kinds of things I would love to do but lack the means to do.
Like create, write, produce, and star in my own sitcom. Or skit comedy show. I’d love to be a staff writer on a late night show. Or a television personality. Or how about writing little books about animals with human problems like David Sedaris.
“But none of that is beyond your grasp! You just have to choose your goal and work hard to achieve it! You can be anything you want to be!”
Yeah, miss me with that shit. You lost me at ‘choose’. How?
And no, you can’t be or do if you just try hard and believe in yourself.
No amount of false positivity is going to make my brain or my body work any better. I will still be a crippled lunatic who can’t cope with life.
I’ll still be the world’s oldest caterpillar, the little boy who can never grow up, the enormous brain in a diaper.
The hothouse orchid withering in the cold of a winter it had no way to handle.
A true blue victim of Failure to Launch Syndrome.
One of the baby birds who did not fly in time to save himself.
A cripple on all fronts.
In other words, I’ll still be me.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.