Well I think I did myself some good with yesterday’s anger dump. Whatever I can do to let that shit out of my skull is going to be good for me in the long run.
I feel like I have only barely scratched the surface, of course. But baby steps.
Right now I feel sort of in between-ish. Like I am between moods. Just waiting at the station for the next mood bus to come along and pick me up.
And it leaves me on the lighter side of meh. So not bored or disaffected or in general unimpressed with and uninterested in life.
Just feeling thoughtful and introspective and philosophical. A navel gazing mood.
But like.. moreso than usual.
I have at least gotten to the point where I can remember what an awesome person I am without wincing. Yesterday was wincing time. Like the thought of my own fabulousness was simply too loud for me to endure.
I am nothing if not complex.
I still don’t really know how to wrap my mind around the truth of what a neato dude I am. The urge to reject the fact is strong. It just doesn’t fit in with all the self-loathing that I still have inside and really challenges the whole way I see my world and my life.
And that’s like…. hard.
But I am not the sort of person who can simply bury or wish away unwelcome truths. Who knows, maybe I would be saner if I was.
I am increasingly convinced that a capacity for self-delusion is vitally necessary for mental health as it allows the mind to protect its integrity by internally generating whatever inputs the mind needs in order to remain balanced.
The truth is that the human mind cannot afford to simply swallow all truths without bias or screening. To be “naked before the truth”, like I have called it before, is actually a really bad idea. It’s the equivalent of being naked in a snowstorm.
No, you see, this life-threatening frostbite is proof I am “keeping it real”.
Better miserable than deluded, right? RIGHT?
I am not sure there is a cure for my intellectually impeccable but emotionally annihilating addiction to the truth and nothing but the truth. Like I have said so many times before, it is logically impossible to willingly accept delusion.
But maybe things don’t have to be so black and white. Maybe I can bend inside enough to allow there to be degrees of truth in my life, and degrees of importance to those truths, and maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to de-prioritize truths that hurt me.
Or at the very least, maybe I can give myself permission to not think about them.
I can certainly say that my faith – which is all it ever was – that you are always better off knowing the truth has been shaken to its core.
Or maybe I am just fooling myself.
And that is not necessarily a bad thing.
I will be back later.
Due to circumstances unforseen and complex, I now have only 45 mins in which to write the other 500 words of my daily bloggination.
No problem. I wrote a million words in 11 months. I think I will be just fine.
Although the allergy attack I am having right now ain’t helping much.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, freeing myself from the cold claws of my brutal truth machine of a brain.
The thing is, there is a great feeling of power that comes from having such a powerful and incisive mind. I feel like a demigod sometimes (not a god…. that would be crazy!) when I think about how much more clearly and precisely I see things than most people and how my mind blasts away bullshit and sweeps away false paths in order to get directly to the truth without hesistation or delay.
Also without mercy or forgiveness or the slightest consideration for the effect this ruthless pusuit of the truth will have on the owner and operator of that goddamned machine, namely little ol’ me, the monkey at the controls.
In the spirit of intellectual ruggedness and a very austere and abstract definition of virtue, I declared such petty considerations as the effect on my psyche of this brutal truth seeking to be beneath my Olympian self, and have pursued the truth with total disregard for all other concerns since then.
And I don’t know how to stop. God help me, I don’t know how to stop.
Because underneath it all is a powerful need to know. A need so powerful, in fact, that it overpowers all else. When I ever try to imagine not being such an inhumane monster about the whole thing, my mind comes to a screeching smoking halt because if I was not like that, I would have to settle for not knowing. .
And that’s an unthinkable thought. Tilt, game over, does not compute, danger Will Robinson. How could I do anything without knowing?
The answer is “with faith”, and we all know that’s not something I possess. More’s the pity. I would be much better off if I had a healthy amount of it.
Not necessarily a religious sort of faith either. Just a general trust that on the whole the world is an okay place and that I do not need to constantly be on guard and probing everything logically in order to feel safe.
And I still don’t feel safe.
But I get as close as I know how to get with this over-torqued brain of mine.
I have essentially conquered my little world via enormous expenditures of sheer intellectual muscle, and there is no room for another path to truth left in me.
So I don’t know how to go without knowing.
I don’t know how to install some goddamned safety controls on this big bad brutal truth machine of mine.
I don’t know how to truly trust anyone or any thing.
But I am willing to explore.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.