I’m not the easiest fellow to help.
Just ask my therapist.
I’m too good with words, too mentally maneuverable, too bulletproof in my persona for my own good. In order for someone to truly help this messed up (but magnificent) mind of mine, they would have to be able to show me what I can’t see myself and point out the blind spots and illogical thinking holding me back so that I can fix my own thinking and/or release some of my vast sea of blocked emotion.
And that’s not easy with a guy as complicated and quick as me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationship between emotions and the world lately. I can only assume that with healthy people, emotions are something that just happen in response to stuff in a natural and organic way, and they just have to deal with them.
Not me though. At some point I cut my emotions off at the root and installed a very humorless and punitive gatekeeper on them and its job is to suppress all but a very narrow band of emotions before they even reach my conscious mind.
Hence my being incredibly repressed. That’s not how emotions are supposed to work. I suppose that it happened as a response to having a lot of really bad emotions to deal with. I wielded the power of my mind to create an artificial and very icy island of false calm in my mind so I could think and didn’t feel so bad.
But that was a cure far worse than the disease, at least in the long run.
This anti-emotion campaign must be part of my being withdrawn, too, and hostile to stimulation. If your emotions are all blocked up with no way out, anything that stimulates them, either physically or emotionally. is going to hurt like hell, and thus this condition conditions you to avoid all but nice safe mental stimulation.
So I have been hiding out in this semi-mobile fortress of the mind for my whole life. My coffin on wheels which keeps the world out as I protect the sleeping part of me by pretending I am dead.
And this god damn crypt has been stifling me in the whole time. The good parts of the world and the good parts of my own emotions get cut off just like the bad.
And there’s an innocence to it all, and a desire to avoid growing up. In a very real sense I have remained extremely immature and hiding it via my shows of intellect.
And “maturity”. I’m not ill-behaved or anything. That takes emotions. And even as a child I was eerily self-possessed.
But my emotional state is fragile and it has grown far too dependent on this nothing of a life of mine to keep my anxiety at bay.
It’s that anxiety that’s really choking the life out of me. Has been for a long time. I kept withdrawing deeper and deeper, and every time I did, the space I withdrew from got filled in with yet more fear, till I was painted into the tiny little corner that is my life.
And so the only way out is through a wall of concentrated and compressed fear.
And I just don’t have the wherewithal to make myself push my way through that most of the time. I can only struggle against this oppressive system of mine on rare and random moments and the rest of the time I just go limp.
I don’t want it to be this way. I want to be strong and confident and capable. I hate being ruled by my god damned fear and trapped in this interment.
But I don’t know how to get what I need to do better.
More after the break.
The occasional power surge
I’ve been having panic attacks lately but I’m not, like, freaking out over it.
My anxiety is less chemically restrained by Paxil now so it was bound to return. But so far I have been able to handle it.
It tends to happen in little spurts, usually when I am switching activity and/or stimulation levels, like going from playing a game to laying down.
But sometimes it happens in the middle of things too.
And I know what’s going on. It’s what I talked about last week : my energies are awakening from their very long slumber and my mind doesn’t really know what to do with them yet so they end up becoming free floating anxiety.
Whatever. This too shall pass. I’m beyond taking the electrochemical bullshit in my head seriously. Go ahead, do what you need to do to heal, brain. I’ll be okay.
Though the idea of leaning into the anxiety keeps recurring to me. Maybe there are emotions trying to break through the ice of my consciousness from the deep waters underneath and if I just help them I can get some serious healing done.
I’ve given it a try a few times now but I don’t think I have found the handle for the emotions involved yet, so it’s like trying to open a locked door.
Nothing moves and I just end up feeling stupid. And a bit sore.
I will pick that lock eventually. Maybe I should try seeing if I can have a good cry. That has helped me a lot in the past.
I just have a lot of cultural deprogramming to do first. Fucking toxic male bullshit.
Said bullshit is why I only get a good cry out when my inner system bursts like an overloaded pipe and releases the waterworks.
And even then, my emotions have to be unusually close to the surface AND I have to encounter something very sad or depressing or upsetting.
That is definitely way too high a wall to have enough my emotions and I would be better off being able to vent them at a far faster rate.
But it’s just not that simple.
God, I envy women sometimes. They know the value of a good cry.
Can they teach me?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.