It’s more complicated than you would think.
Because the ruth is, the oral retentive definition of comfort is woefully inadequate for assuring actual happiness.
It is not enough simply to be free of strain and pain in a life where very little is expected of you and you are free to do nothing but entertain yourself.
That might seem like Heaven to someone who works hard all the time, but take it from one of the inmates here in Camp Happy, it can also be Hell.
Patient readers know the spiel. Healthy people do not realize how much of the structure of their life comes from outside : their job, their kids, their social commitments, their extended family, their collaborative hobbies, and the needs of their pets.
Ergo, most people have never faced the challenge of figuring out what to do with all the empty hours of a day.
Even the unemployed have their job search to provide structure and direction. They have a goal, they have the Internet, they have their boredom and lack of purpose to goad them into looking for a new position.
But I and those like me are completely adrift. We are not just unemployed but unemployable. ergo there is no job search to keep us moving.
It’s the doldrums, and sometimes it makes me want to scream.
Of course, says blind logic. you could always make your own goals. Pick a task,. and direct yourself to complete it. When you finish that, pick another.
What could be simpler? But it just does not work that way.
Not if you have depression. Depression interferes with many cognitive processes and one of the big ones is executive function. That’s the part of the mind that strings together a series of actions that will lead to a desired result, and when that is all clogged up with depression’s no-feelies juice, it is hard to think of any steps that would reach any goal at all.
Even in my best moments, the best I can do is imagine a series of steps that would achieve that goal for someone with motivation, drive, focus, and energy.
Me, I am fresh out of all of them. So when I try to imagine myself actually doing the things I have imagined, the picture splinters and falls apart and turns into so much ash gently gathering around my feet.
There’s that image of a planet with nothing but barren rock and huge boulders and a rain of ash, gentle and constant and quiet like snowfall, and me there. inexplicably happy about it all.
Still haven’t figured that one out.
Anyhow. my point, and I do have one, is that most people have no idea how dependent on the externalities of their lives to give their lives structure and direction.
They also have the luxury of imagining that a life of leisure would be bliss. Those of us living such a life – even at a low economic level like I do – know that there are far more complex needs that such a life simply cannot fulfill.
Human consciousness is composed of layer upon layer of complex interconnected drives that extend far beyond creature comforts and basic animal needs.
I mean, look at this thing :
I mean sure, I got the bottom two layers covered but that’s it. Well, plus half of the yellow layer, because I do have friends, but intimate relationships are a foreign country to me. I have never been there.
I think part of why I have suffered so much in my adult life is that I was in active denial of these truths.
After all. if I fully acknowledged and embraced the fact that I need one hell of a lot more than the emotional starvation diet I keep myself on, then it would immediately follow that I should be doing a lot of things to fix that.
And because of depression, all roads which lead to action – real action, the kind that actually engages my adrenal system – are permanently blocked, so the only way to avoid the pain of trying to force a blocked system is to pretend everything is fine.
That means pretending that this life of mine is fine, just fine. It’s perfectly okay to ignore and suppress all the human needs I am not addressing let alone satiating. I can go one and on like this forever!
Yeah, bullshit. I need more. I want more. I don’t care of that upsets the petty order and harmony of my hermetically sealed life. I don’t care if that means I am going to have to leave my cell and explore the world more, even though the idea terrifies me. I don’t care thart the routes are blocked, I am going to force my way through or die trying.
So let me make it official : I am going to work as hard as I can to find a way out of this cage of mine and find a way to connect with the world that scares me so much.
Call it a New Year’s resolution if you like. I think I will call it an Honest Intention. I honestly intend to scrabble at the walls of my cage with all the patience and industry I can muster and to remember that no matter how many times I stop, I still have to keep going when I get better.
There’s a use for all my frustrated energies. Keep that hamster wheel spinning!
All I really want is a clear and open channel between my drives and my actions. A way to simply let life flow into and out of me without needless restrictions and pointless bottlenecks and other such garbage.
To let life come spilling out of me in big warm wet waves instead of always constricting and restricting and conflicting with myself. To live life joyously open instead of pinched off and emotionally constipated.
To truly live, god damn it.
But I am going to have to resurrect myself first.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.