Feeling not so fantastic. Feeling grumpy and depressed. Can’t remember why I do things when everything sucls/.
So, par for the course for having woken up around 20 mins ago.
I think, deep down, my soul years for something more than just playing video games all the goddamned time. It’s not enough to just make it through the day any more.
I want to accomplish something with my life. I warn to earn money. I want someone to acknowledge the value of something I do by paying for it. I want to be able to finally, finally, finally pay my own way and not feel like a burden on others and to at long last qualify as a real live adult.
Because I don’t right now, that’s clear. No job, no love life, not much of a social life, and yet, here I am, brain the size of a planet, with a positively astounding abilities at my fingertips, and all I can manage is to barely survive by burying myself in video games.
And I am getting really fucking sick of it.
I try to imagine how I would free myself. There’s millions of ways, of course, which is a big part of the problem.
How can I choose one when there’s so many?
I suspect the answer lies in reframing the question. There’s no point in trying to solve the million variable equation of “which of these is the right choice?”. That’s impossible, especially since there is no agreed upon definition of “right” in play.
What would be “right”? A job or a gig which I get easily, without having to leave my comfort zone at all, and then do without having to do anything scary and./or hard and which makes me a huge amount of money?
I mean, if that exists, I’ll take it, but realistically speaking, if those are my criteria when I am just setting myself up to fail.
And besides, none of that bullshit is the real problem.
The real problem is the fear. Always has been. The real problem is that when I try to imagine myself leaving my comfort zone to do surveys or UpWork gigs or any of the zillions of other thing I could be doing to improve my lot in life, that icy cold fear rises up like a flock of evil birds to fly in my face and scream at me to stop while making me feel like someone is slowly pushing an icicle directly into my heart.
This is, of course, my depression talking. It goes through this whole freezing death routine in order to scare me away from doing things that threaten it.
I know this, but those evil birds are still there. And they don’t argue with me. They don’t reason with me. They know that logically, I can kick their ass, and their response was to sink their claws and beaks directly into the flesh of my soul, allowing them to punish me directly, superego intervention not needed.
So all I can do is keep pumping warm lifeblood into the frozen flesh of my glacier of frozen emotions and, slowly, bit by bit, birth all that coldness inside me and let it thaw ou so that only pink, healthy flesh remains.
More after the break.
Where we left off
So, to recap : I hate my life. There’s a lot of things I could do to improve it. But depression and anxiety get in the way.
I feel like I just summarized like half the entries in this blog. Funny how it always takes so long to realize how simple things are.
The obvious solution to the problem I stated above is to somehow get rid of the depression and anxiety. They are my main obstacle in life and if I could get those lazy motherfuckers out of the way, maybe I would be able to finally get on with my life.
The question then becomes, “Well, why are they there? What’s keeping them there? What would it take for them to go away?”.
I’ve heard good things about brain aneurysms. Just one well placed clot and boom. I got a whole new brain. Maybe even one that works properly.
Granted, I’d be a drooling vegetable, but there’s no such thing as a perfect solution.
Seriously though, (believe it or not, to me, that previous bit was my idea of comedy), the question of how to shift all that depression and anxiety out of the way of my burning desire to finally get to be a grownup, has no simple answer. It’s not the kind of thing that can be attacked linearly with an application of overwhelming force.
Which is a pity, because I’m pretty damned good at those.
The real answer, to my way of thinking, is maddening indirect. All I can do is to keep digging through the permafrost and dead flesh around my fragile frozen heart in an attempt to get rid of enough of it via birthing my coldness that eventually the warm life-giving rays of the sun can reach my torn and tattered soul and finally bring me to life.
And because it’s all so fucking indirect and nonlinear, there is no way of knowing how long it will take before I can make some serious progress.
Looking back, I can tell that I have already come a long, long way. And looking forward, I can see that I have a long, long way to go.
And that’s incredibly frustrating to the part of me that burns to be free.
Well, you angry impatient frustrated demons, if you want to help, attack, devour,and destroy all that ice and permafrost. It is what is keeping you in a cage. It is what blocks your every avenue of expression. It is what is making everything hurt.
So vent all that pent up fury on it. Only when it is gone will you be free. Kill it, my pretties. Make it pay for our pain. Wipe it from existence.
In the meanwhile, I’mma take a nap.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.