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Untangling the Elephant's Leash
Hey, remember when talking about my family depressed me so much I stopped journaling for four months? Good times.
Actually, that's not quite what happened. We're settling into something of a routine in the new household, but I haven't added regular journaling to it. I think it would definitely help if I picked it up again, though, so here we are.
I had meant to give myself a little space between the last family post and picking it up again, but this was a longer hiatus than I had meant to take. I'll get back to the self-therapy, but for now, I want to catch up on where I am these days.
I think the biggest positive thing I have going right now is an ever-shifting, deepening web of connections that I've really come to appreciate. I know so many awesome people who are striving to do awesome things. All I have to do is look around for inspiration or hope that life isn't completely terrible. Everywhere around me, people are creating, expressing, drawing, writing, speaking, performing...it's a constant reminder of how beautiful life is and how great humanity can be. It's cheesy, but I mean it. I really appreciate getting peeks inside someone else's life. No matter how corporate and awful the Internet gets, most of us know that the connections we forge here are the entire point.
It's made me painfully aware of how neglectful and flighty of a friend I can be. I've spent so much time these past several years not doing...anything, and now I'm on the fringes of almost every social group I'm connected to. I can't pretend to be surprised by this -- it was mostly my design to be this way. But I've spent so much time being quiet and unobtrusive that it feels like my ability to communicate has calcified. I could feel myself disappearing in a way, retreating entirely into this fugue state I construct for myself so I can pass time without feeling anything.
In a weird way, I feel myself becoming my adopted father. He spent all his time around us being quiet and out-of-the-way that I really don't remember much of a personality. He spent so much time away from us, and I realize now it was because he felt like he couldn't be himself around us. Remembering all those nights he'd come home completely blotted drunk, I see now that he wasn't some asshole who couldn't control himself. He was deeply unhappy and desperate to feel something other than...whatever he felt when he was home.
That's why he'd come back to us after the divorce, saving whatever was leftover in his allowance to take the bus. It feels like we became that escape, the place where he'd feel better than whatever he was feeling then. I can't guarantee that's the way he felt, of course I couldn't, but...it feels that way for me sometimes.
I say this a lot, but I've spent so much time trying to escape my feelings I've forgotten what they are -- or at least, how to talk about them. Why feel feelings you don't really understand and can't talk about with anyone when you can be numb instead? That way no one has to hear your emotional flailing and you don't have to feel it!
It feels easier to numb myself so I can get on with the business of living most days. It's important to keep the job I have because if I lose it I really worry about my ability to find anything that could pay nearly as well. I might be able to find something that pays even less, but chances are it would be a lot more stressful. And...well, considering my emotional state now, that's not a great proposition.
Work is fulfilling because I finally feel like I've gotten my sea legs. There's still an awful lot to learn and I'm not entirely sure I've made the best impression on my bosses this year, so it feels like I have to dig myself out of a slight hole by working faster and harder. Reaching out to the blue-collar technicians whose work I'm checking is fraught, so that's more stress. It's *such* a detail-oriented job that I just want to turn my brain off at the end of the day, but I can't really. There's exercise, and hobbies, and dinner, and cleaning/upkeep. There's the whole second job of trying to live up to my friend group -- and I'm failing pretty hard at that too.
My self-esteem isn't great right now. :) But I can't...do less than what I'm doing because what I'm doing already isn't enough. My brain serves me an entire litany of ways I'm failing someone at any given time. I know it's an irrational thought coming from an irrational place, but it doesn't make it any less demoralizing.
So I've made an appointment for a therapist at Kaiser Permanente to hopefully get help, because I can feel myself getting worse and I don't have the tools to stop it. I'm not very happy about that, but it's what I have access to so it's what I'll use. I wish I had the ability to choose a therapist I could be comfortable with. I wish I could see them more often than once a month. I wish I didn't get pushed to group classes so often. But here we are.
I could go for another 30 minutes about the socio-political situation in the United States, but who wants to hear about that? I can see some kind of societal collapse coming and none of us are prepared for it because...how could you be? It feels like so much death is coming, death to people who are really close to me, and there's nothing I can do about it. When all you can see is a broken world in front of you, it's really hard to sustain energy for any long-term project. Why should I bother learning to write if I won't have anyone to share it with in five years? Why bother getting this certification when the international organizations that recognize it will cease to be soon? Why do anything but fucking numb yourself and do nothing until it's your turn to die?
This is the constant voice in my brain whenever I think about starting a garden, or sprucing up the house, or getting back to writing. It feels impossible to start anything because everything feels pointless.
So...yeah, that's why I'm going to therapy. I don't want to keep feeling this way, and I can't keep numbing it down to make do and keep it moving.
Actually, that's not quite what happened. We're settling into something of a routine in the new household, but I haven't added regular journaling to it. I think it would definitely help if I picked it up again, though, so here we are.
I had meant to give myself a little space between the last family post and picking it up again, but this was a longer hiatus than I had meant to take. I'll get back to the self-therapy, but for now, I want to catch up on where I am these days.
I think the biggest positive thing I have going right now is an ever-shifting, deepening web of connections that I've really come to appreciate. I know so many awesome people who are striving to do awesome things. All I have to do is look around for inspiration or hope that life isn't completely terrible. Everywhere around me, people are creating, expressing, drawing, writing, speaking, performing...it's a constant reminder of how beautiful life is and how great humanity can be. It's cheesy, but I mean it. I really appreciate getting peeks inside someone else's life. No matter how corporate and awful the Internet gets, most of us know that the connections we forge here are the entire point.
It's made me painfully aware of how neglectful and flighty of a friend I can be. I've spent so much time these past several years not doing...anything, and now I'm on the fringes of almost every social group I'm connected to. I can't pretend to be surprised by this -- it was mostly my design to be this way. But I've spent so much time being quiet and unobtrusive that it feels like my ability to communicate has calcified. I could feel myself disappearing in a way, retreating entirely into this fugue state I construct for myself so I can pass time without feeling anything.
In a weird way, I feel myself becoming my adopted father. He spent all his time around us being quiet and out-of-the-way that I really don't remember much of a personality. He spent so much time away from us, and I realize now it was because he felt like he couldn't be himself around us. Remembering all those nights he'd come home completely blotted drunk, I see now that he wasn't some asshole who couldn't control himself. He was deeply unhappy and desperate to feel something other than...whatever he felt when he was home.
That's why he'd come back to us after the divorce, saving whatever was leftover in his allowance to take the bus. It feels like we became that escape, the place where he'd feel better than whatever he was feeling then. I can't guarantee that's the way he felt, of course I couldn't, but...it feels that way for me sometimes.
I say this a lot, but I've spent so much time trying to escape my feelings I've forgotten what they are -- or at least, how to talk about them. Why feel feelings you don't really understand and can't talk about with anyone when you can be numb instead? That way no one has to hear your emotional flailing and you don't have to feel it!
It feels easier to numb myself so I can get on with the business of living most days. It's important to keep the job I have because if I lose it I really worry about my ability to find anything that could pay nearly as well. I might be able to find something that pays even less, but chances are it would be a lot more stressful. And...well, considering my emotional state now, that's not a great proposition.
Work is fulfilling because I finally feel like I've gotten my sea legs. There's still an awful lot to learn and I'm not entirely sure I've made the best impression on my bosses this year, so it feels like I have to dig myself out of a slight hole by working faster and harder. Reaching out to the blue-collar technicians whose work I'm checking is fraught, so that's more stress. It's *such* a detail-oriented job that I just want to turn my brain off at the end of the day, but I can't really. There's exercise, and hobbies, and dinner, and cleaning/upkeep. There's the whole second job of trying to live up to my friend group -- and I'm failing pretty hard at that too.
My self-esteem isn't great right now. :) But I can't...do less than what I'm doing because what I'm doing already isn't enough. My brain serves me an entire litany of ways I'm failing someone at any given time. I know it's an irrational thought coming from an irrational place, but it doesn't make it any less demoralizing.
So I've made an appointment for a therapist at Kaiser Permanente to hopefully get help, because I can feel myself getting worse and I don't have the tools to stop it. I'm not very happy about that, but it's what I have access to so it's what I'll use. I wish I had the ability to choose a therapist I could be comfortable with. I wish I could see them more often than once a month. I wish I didn't get pushed to group classes so often. But here we are.
I could go for another 30 minutes about the socio-political situation in the United States, but who wants to hear about that? I can see some kind of societal collapse coming and none of us are prepared for it because...how could you be? It feels like so much death is coming, death to people who are really close to me, and there's nothing I can do about it. When all you can see is a broken world in front of you, it's really hard to sustain energy for any long-term project. Why should I bother learning to write if I won't have anyone to share it with in five years? Why bother getting this certification when the international organizations that recognize it will cease to be soon? Why do anything but fucking numb yourself and do nothing until it's your turn to die?
This is the constant voice in my brain whenever I think about starting a garden, or sprucing up the house, or getting back to writing. It feels impossible to start anything because everything feels pointless.
So...yeah, that's why I'm going to therapy. I don't want to keep feeling this way, and I can't keep numbing it down to make do and keep it moving.