Why do I feel like I have something to prove?

I guess everybody does, in a way. We are born to find our place in society and to seek status within that society. I was told at an early age that I was exceptionally bright and that I was bound to go places.

And I probably would have, if certain things hadn’t happened.

I am still exceptionally bright. I’m also witty and highly creative, as well as a pretty nice guy. And I am not dead yet. I still could go places. I could still become a success.

The problem, then, is not with wanting more. It is with beating yourself up for not having it yet and/or not pursuing like you “should”. The more I examine this inner fascist regime of mine, the better I understand its methods. Like a corrupt dictatorship, it will use any means at its disposal to maintain its power over “me the people”, and its main weapon is fear.

After all, if you can convince the people that the world outside is a horrible, horrible place filled with dangerous enemies that only you, Dictator Depression, can save them from, it is a lot easier to get them to comply with your demands for more and more power and less and less freedom.

Even if the people start to wonder whether what you say about the outside world is the whole picture, or even true, as long as you have the upper hand with fear, as long as they are too scared to go find out for themselves, your regime is safe.

And if they start to get out of line, you have a well developed arsenal of torture techniques, as well as a crack team of brutal enforcers and cold-blooded propagandists, to punish and punish and punish until your will reigns supreme.

( Now exiting metaphor. )

So torturing myself over my failure to embrace any of the millions of different ways I could be attempting to fulfill my ambitions is just another technique which, despite its apparent intentions, is actually just there to keep me in my sad little place of darkness and depression.

Every time I look at my synthesizer, or tablet, or a piece of creativity software like the kind I use for video or music, or a link to a place that accepts submissions from people like me (like motherfucking Cracked.com), or even just try to think about ways to improve my life, the oppressive regime makes me feel really guilty that I am not doing any of those things, and the pain of my guilt makes me develop yet another aversion, and it is that very guilt-aversion reaction that keeps me from being able to follow my ambitions in the first place.

I am always fleeing the feeling of guilt and despair I feel when I think about the tools of my ambitions, and that, of course, makes it impossible to approach said tools and maybe even use them to get somewhere.

And maybe that’s the point of it all. No matter how much “me the people” want to get out into the world and learn and grow and experience things, the inner regime wants to maintain the status quo and uses this guilt-aversion system to keep things the same. We’re not keeping you down, we’re keeping you safe!

Well I don’t feel safe. I feel like I am trapped in a cell with a madman. There has to be a way out.

Perhaps the first step is to stop thinking of all these possibilities I have accumulated (and I know how to acquire so very many more) as burdens of guilt that just make me feel like a giant loser who has wasted his entire life. That is, to put it very mildly, hella counterproductive.

I have spent a long time punishing myself for every little thing. Fuck that. Time to try to learn to be nice to myself.

Instead of burdens, I should see all those possibilities as gifts I have acquired over time, valuable possessions that I should be glad to own, each to be treasured and valued and adored without feeling the need to do something with them.

They are mine, to do with as I please. They are not, I repeat, NOT a gaggle of accusing fingers all pointed at me and singing a song of failure and loserdom. Maybe they are just not the right tool for me at the moment. Maybe they are things that meant something once but I have moved on since then. Maybe they are just fragments of the shell I outgrew and molted off.

Maybe I am way past do for another molting.

If I can complete this exercise of psychological spin control, then I can remove a major blockage within me and maybe, just maybe, rest a little easier in this old skin of mine.

I keep trying to get to a place where I can just accept my life how it is and stop hating myself for what it’s not. A place where I can just live my life for my own enjoyment and not be haunted by all these demons of ambition that tell me that I could totally be kicking the world’s ass right now and because I don’t, I’m a way bigger loser than someone without all my gifts living the exact same life.

But I think I have a long road ahead of me before I can get to that safe calm place. I think I need to wear my demons out before they are tired enough to be put to bed. I think I need to find some way to release all that crazy energy inside me that drives the frenzied inner workings of the neurotic mind.

Only when I can release all this latent energy will I be able to get a good feeling for who I truly am, underneath all that mental activity that shines so much light that it bedazzles and bemuses me onto the sidelines.

You have to empty the pool before you can find out what is underneath it all.

See you tomorrow, folks.