Diary of a Prisoner No parole allowed

2017-12-19

Looking for darkness

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , , — Inmate #840528 @ 20:20

I came across this post on facebook, an image (I’m not even sure if that classifies as a meme) that just says:

I’m highly attracted to someone who has been through things in life. I don’t want someone who is always rainbows and butterflies. Is it strange that I am comforted by the darkness in someone?

It got me thinking. I am indeed sort of attracted to people who have a dark history and/or a dark side, whatever it may be, and people who are always happy kind of creep me out. I’ve always known this, though, so it’s nothing new. If anything, it was nice to see it show up on my feed because it’s a reminder that I’m not alone in my weirdness, and lately that alone is definitely a welcome thing.

The question however is: why? Why do I feel immediately close to someone who has lived through struggles? Until recently, I had never admitted to myself that perhaps I just wish someone were as miserable as me; and that still makes me feel horrible, by the way. But I guess hiding it doesn’t help anyone, so there it is again. Maybe this attraction to fellow strugglers is just another way of saying the same thing, in a slightly less selfish way because it’s about them, rather than me.

Note that, once again, this is not about love or romantic relationships. One of the very few “guy friends” I had also struggled through his own things, and that is actually what got us to be friends. There’s just that kind of connection between people who have or have had issues. Maybe it’s part selfishness: hey, I’m not as alone, as miserable, as ridiculous as I thought I was. Or maybe it’s the desire to help, though the line between generosity and selfishness can be thin: if I know that helping you makes me feel better, am I being self-centered? Still, there’s a connection.

Lately I’ve been following a facebook group about victims of abuse by sociopaths and narcissists. Even though many of the posts by others are heartbreaking, as one may imagine, the environment is very positive and supportive. I never posted there myself (I don’t feel my experiences are “worth” it; that’s a whole new can of worms, I know) but I’ve occasionally commented on other things, and I’ve had replies. That alone was helpful, especially when they were indeed supporting comments to things that took a lot of effort to write and put out there, such as my fear of driving issue.

In my life I’ve always been in touch with someone who had issues; perhaps it was a way of working on my own issues, who knows? Yet lately I haven’t, or rather, as I said in other posts, it feels like everyone’s sort of trying to find a way while I’m still locked in. The odd thing is that coming to the realization that perhaps I “used” other people’s issues to feel less alone doesn’t make me feel guilty. After all I wasn’t the one to cause their problems and I’ve always tried to help others. What it does, instead, is make me feel useless now, actually both useless and hopeless. Useless because I can’t help anyone, and hopeless because I feel like nobody will ever need me again, since everyone seems to be doing better on their own.

2017-12-17

Self-fulfilling prophecies

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , — Inmate #840528 @ 11:41

In my previous post I mentioned how my mind sometimes races and paranoia kicks in, as it did on irc when I was being ignored. It went like this: on irc, each user has a counter called the idle time, which tells you how much time has elapsed since that user said anything to anyone. It normally doesn’t show unless you’re on the same server, but there’s a way to request that anyway (just running the whois command with the recipient mentioned twice). It often happened that I was talking with someone in private chat, and they stopped replying. After a while they would say they had to leave the computer, something pretty odd to begin with since at the time you were not always-on and you made the most out of each minute you stayed online given that you did indeed pay by the minute, and that’s why they had stopped talking. Except they were lying: looking at their idle time I could see very clearly that it continuously reset to very low values, meaning they were indeed talking, just ignoring me. I’m aware that it’s borderline paranoia, but is it really paranoia when it’s true?

That’s been the common thread in my life: being ignored and, pretty often, just dumped without a word or an explanation. That’s why I’m so insecure around people, that’s why I have a hard time believing in “forever”, or that I am interesting at all for anyone. Most of the times I am the one who has to seek out others even just for a hello, and trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried not looking for anyone for a few days and the truth is that nobody looks for me first, except in rare cases. And looking for those clues of being ignored, something that modern-day messaging platforms make very easy, literally too easy, by means of double checkmarks or “last online” notices that cannot be hidden, has almost turned into a form of psychological self-harm. But again, is it self-harm or is it just me trying to find anything that’s actually true and real in the midst of all the fakeness?

And so my mind starts racing. Yesterday that friend of mine stated she was on the train, and a story on instagram gave a clue that she was bound for the city where that guy is. Good for her if he’s good to her. And yet it hurts, and again it’s not jealousy. It’s that she’s got the guts to hop on a train that covers literally half the country, and I wasn’t able to make myself go to my old school for the orientation event (it would have been nice to see it again after so many years and I may have met someone there too). And the worst part is that our friendship is taking a toll. She doesn’t talk to me because she doesn’t want to hurt me with those things, which are indeed important to her; and I don’t talk to her for fear of saying anything that makes her say anything about that. And yesterday I saw she hadn’t used a messenger we use for hours, and I thought: she’s enjoying her time with him. And every time I opened instagram I was scared, and still am, to see something about them together, or hint that they spent the night together, sharing a kind of intimacy that I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s like furiously running that double whois command on irc to see if I was being ignored; and the worst thing is that part of me clearly wants to be wrong, but part of me appreciates that I was right, even though it’s the worst outcome. At least I’m not completely wrong about everything, in a sense. But at what cost? What’s the advantage of being right about something painful?

And the really worst part is that it’s someone I care about, I truly do. And I hate feeling like this sort of ancestral resentment towards her because I’m supposed to be her friend, and I would like to be her friend. I’d like to be happy for her when she’s happy and support her when she’s not; and until recently I have sort of managed, but things took a turn for the worst recently for me and it turned into envy, something I absolutely hate myself for. She shouldn’t be losing a friend because that friend’s got his own issues. It’s unfair. And it makes me hate myself further.

How do I get out it?

2017-12-11

It happened again

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , , , , — Inmate #840528 @ 01:35

I read that writing supposedly helps, that when you have a bad thought you should put it in writing as soon as you have it, so that your mind doesn’t sit on it and plays with it. I don’t know if that’s true because I do keep a list of things that happen to me during the day and I mark them as positive, negative or neutral (which really is neutral-negative, or rather: not great but didn’t actively bring me down, if that makes any sense), and it doesn’t really feel like it’s helping. But here we go anyway, let’s try this again. I suppose that having told a person or two about this blog sort of gives it a bit more of a purpose, since it doesn’t look like hordes of anonymous reads are flocking to it anyway. And what’s writing without an audience?

Anyway, it happened again today. That feeling of inadequacy and comparing myself to others. I cannot get into specifics for obvious reasons, but someone I mentioned before was out of town today, and that alone was enough to rekindle my feeling of being stuck. Here’s someone who just hops on a bus, or train, or whatever, and travels almost 400 km for the hell of it; and here I am, for whom going to the next town on a map to spend a few hours with a friend feels like a gargantuan accomplishment that requires hours, if not days, of mental planning. And then my mind started racing, much like it used to do back on irc when I was being ignored, which I’ll talk about at some point. I looked for this guy I know she’s getting involved with, and found him; he has photos with his girlfriend, whom he seldom mentioned to my friend, and on her profile (the girlfriend’s I mean) she has a photo of them together (with the guy) mentioning their “unengagement” party. My brain quickly put things together: they’re splitting up so he can get with my friend. And I’m happy for her, if he treats her well, except I can’t help being a little jealous, and just plain envious, I admit, because again I feel stuck while others do this sort of crazy thing. It looks like nobody can stay single for more than a month and I quit a sort-of-kind-of long-distance relationship almost two years ago and it still feels like yesterday. And the guy apparently got on the cover of a magazine for something, and is a skilled musician; all things I kind of dabble in but certainly am not magazine material. Not that I want to be, mind you, but I can’t help but compare myself to this person I don’t even know. And there’s another thing about him that made me uneasy but I just can’t say it; it’s nothing inherently wrong or bad, just something that may have an effect on my friend and, in a sense, spoil one thing we sort of playfully shared.

I’m fully aware that I have no rights on anything, but it’s that sense of betrayal, once again, amplified by the fact that it really looks like everyone claims to have love issues yet they all actively seek it, everyone claims to be sad yet everyone quickly gets over it, and so on; it’s as if nobody is really miserable, and as a consequence nobody understands my being so. We’ve already been over how badly and guilty I feel about feeling like that, so I won’t repeat myself. I know I’m a terrible person for even thinking anything along those lines. It’s not even about being single, mind you. Another good friend was lucky enough to meet a good person and it seems to be working out for her, I suppose, because I don’t ask about it lest it makes me feel like that again (and that in turn makes me feel like I’m a bad friend, once again), and it’s not like she was actively seeking love, assuming that it leads to that anyway, yet she did found someone.

That’s the issue with me. It’s not about being single. Every time I try to talk about this with someone, I fail to make this point and it just adds to the sense of feeling alone. I don’t think I’d be ready for a relationship, not a traditional one anyway, so that’s not what I’m looking for. My problem is that I feel like I have no chance of finding someone even if I wanted to.  It’s not having the opportunity. And part of that is because of me not putting myself out there, true. But part of that is also because I am not attractive. And no, I don’t think that looks are necessarily the only thing, but they certainly do mean something. If you don’t like someone’s looks at all, it’s unlikely it’ll grow on you over time even if you like the person. Not impossible, but unlikely; especially if there is no physical attraction whatsoever. And I know I’m not attractive. I could lose some (quite a bit of) weight, and I just don’t like my looks; I was never the attractive one. I can’t recall a single person who had a crush on me in person. Online it’s sort of different, you get to know me for me first and foremost, but then the moment you meet me in person, it’s game over. I’m not saying I’m hideous. But I’m not anyone’s first choice. I suppose the only silver lining about the aforementioned friend is that this sort-of-unengaged guy is not particularly attractive, which I reckon may give me a sense of hope. But again, it’s not about finding love, not actually, not in practice. It’s about the chance. It’s about being denied a whole chunk of the human experience. And I know that a lot of this is my depression talking, and my anxiety, and maybe the memories from my childhood that my brain has conveniently stashed aside yet not that well. I hate myself for it because I know that most of this is in my head. I know it is. So I’m chubby, so I’m no Tom Cruise (or whomever women like nowadays), so I’m not good at playing Mozart on the piano. But I’m pretty much a normal guy. I think. Because as I was typing that, I wondered: is there anything really broken about me? And part of my mind thought: no, you’re overall pretty decent, you may a bit quirkier than average but it’s nothing earth-shattering. But another part went: are you kidding me? sit down because this will be a long list.

I just want the chance, really just the chance, to do normal things. Even suffer for someone, not because of someone. I keep mentioning couples because that’s the basis of human contact, in the end. I just wish I could get out of my shell and live life, be it good or bad. So far it’s only been bad, I look at my past and I only see negative experiences: with my family, with other people. I have very few good memories to hold on to, and my parents aren’t getting any younger. Besides them, I have nobody. That’s what’s making me feel worse and worse, subconsciously, I think. What’s the point of life if you’re alone? I wish I had a local friend to do silly things with, to just hang out with; I wish I could get myself to do it, especially, because once again I’m the barrier, the obstacle, the hindrance. I watch movies and see people doing things and it feels normal, and it feels nice; and then it’s over, and I feel empty and that’s because the illusion is over. Sometimes it comes apart sooner, sometimes characters get heartbroken over something or someone, and I realize I crave that pain. Anything, really, to feel alive, to get out of this stalemate with myself. I find myself easily moved; all it takes is a quote about life, or a personal story, or even a well-made tv commercial. But it’s not being moved out of beauty; it’s sadness for myself, as if I were mourning myself. And I know a lot about mourning, unfortunately. And that’s another thing that makes no sense, because I of all people should know better, I of all people should be aware that life doesn’t last forever and should take action before it’s too late. Why can’t I? What is wrong with me?

Maybe I should look into therapy, at least the chatty kind, not the druggy kind.  But it’s logistically impossible for the time being, and to be completely honest it scares me. Because I have a hard time admitting certain things even to myself; especially digging into the past, it’s something I’ve always struggled with. I don’t even do that with the people I consider friends. Doing that with a stranger feels like a nightmare. And it’s expensive, and I don’t even know if there are good ones around here anyway. How do you even talk to a therapist about your innermost secrets, your most shameful thoughts, without feeling judged? How do you deal with making yourself so vulnerable? How can you even trust them, or anyone really, with certain things? And what if you spend thousands over years and it doesn’t help? At least writing here is free.

A few days ago I had a bit of a revelation about myself, but I think I was with someone else and couldn’t write it down. I can’t remember. Maybe it was a dream? I really can’t remember, I just had a sudden realization about one of the reasons I may be like this. Not that knowing the root cause necessarily helps, in fact it probably doesn’t because I’m pretty sure it’s rooted in my childhood so the only thing I can do is to accept it and move on anyway. But it made sense, and I even remember feeling like I was onto something. But I didn’t write it down, I didn’t take a note, and it just escaped me. I don’t even know if it happened, if I actually did have this enlightenment moment, or just somehow fabricated a memory of it. See, sometimes I manage to gaslight myself.

But that’s the problem, overall. There is no direct solution. And talking to people doesn’t help, and I got to the point where I don’t even want to. It just feels pointless, and they want to help, and yet can’t, so they feel bad and I feel guilty. Even worse, as I said, I can’t even explain myself. I don’t know how to put it into words that it’s not a matter of being single, it’s a matter of not having any self-esteem, of not seeing anything worthy about myself, so that nobody, be it a potential partner or just about anyone really, would have any interest in me whatsoever. If I feel like I have nothing to offer to anyone, or that I am flat-out a complete failure as a human being, how can I expect anyone to want anything to do with me?

2017-11-21

On being horrible

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , , — Inmate #840528 @ 17:25

In a previous post I had stated that lately I’ve been talking with others and giving them a fresh perspective on their issues, and thinking about my own situation as a consequence of that.

Well, in case there was any proof that I cannot take my own advice, last Saturday one of my hard drives suffered a catastrophic failure. It happens, I’ve been in IT long enough to know that it’s just how things go. Except I did not have a full backup even though I thought I had, and I lost some important stuff. Panic ensued, the whole five stages of grief, and whatnot. Ever since that happened, I’ve been wondering if it’s just a metaphor of my current situation: everything’s fine on the surface, but with countless disasters just waiting to happen due to incompetence. That just reinforces my impostor syndrome, of course.

And if that weren’t enough, last night I managed to possibly ruin a friendship because of my issues. Being told about others’ love lives, or attempted love lives anyway, makes me uneasy. I realized it’s often flat-out envy, which is the most horrible feeling one can have, due to my own being stuck, as I said in my previous post. I followed up this morning explaining everything, in a long message, and my friend has read but not replied, not a single word. Of course my brain’s in full panic mode and I’m hating myself even further. In my mind I was just being honest, probably even too honest, and made sure I pointed out multiple times that it was an issue of mine, not theirs or anyone else’s. I’m the one who’s broken in the head. But not a word has come so far and I’m starting to think the friendship’s cracked beyond repair. Who would want to stay friends with a friend who can’t even be a friend?

(But see, the thing is that I just feel as if I were the last man on earth. Nobody fully understands how I feel, how “stuck” I am. Even those who occasionally do try, don’t really “get” it. And see, here’s the issue: I sort of wish someone did, which is another horrible thing to say. A few years ago I had opened up to a friend because they seemed to understand and share some of my struggle, but they were eventually manipulated by someone and turned against me, and I was given such a cold attitude that made me physically sick. More recently, I got to know someone who also didn’t drink and apparently acted like a fellow introvert; then they went on holiday and came back semi-alcoholic and a crazy party person. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat betrayed: I was glad for their getting “unstuck”, but that also meant that I was alone again, as I just can’t bring myself to get out of my shell. How horrible is that of me to say? But perhaps, in the end, I am not unlike junkies, or drinkers for that matter: they want people to join in their addiction, and get annoyed if someone chickens out. Is it really such a horrible thing to just wish that I found someone as broken as I am, so that we could both feel less alone?)

2017-11-12

Running out of time

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , — Inmate #840528 @ 00:41

I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying all I can to stay positive. After all work is going pretty well, my nerd’s side is fulfilled with a big new computer, I’m generally doing fine. Yet it feels like something’s deeply wrong with me. And going towards Christmas, that’s only going to get worse.

The difficult part of all of this is figuring out exactly what is wrong. Most of it is embedded in my subconscious, hidden by a layer of alleged normality. Surfacing all or any of that requires an immense willpower, for the simple reason that whatever’s there, by definition, is unsettling. Why would you poke a sleeping bear?

Some of it is trickling upwards, however, in part due to just talking with others. Some people trust me and open up to me, and I’ve learned — in a way that’s ironic to me, but I won’t get into that now — to listen better and try provide novel ways of looking at their situation. I’m not a therapist, of course; I’m just a friendly voice that may help shed a different light onto things. As a consequence, I’ve started doing the same with myself, but it’s not really effective: I begin to see the issues, but I have no idea how to address them.

Take loneliness, something that we the depressed are champions at. Being an introvert, I genuinely enjoy solitude. But sometimes it turns into loneliness, and I don’t know how to fix it. I now do have a few friends, but since I still don’t drive doesn’t allow me to drop everything and go meet them. And I don’t have many anyway, which means they likely wouldn’t be available. And that leads to the old driving issue: I made a point of taking lessons again by the end of the year and then getting a car soon into the new year, and I’m going to try and stick to it; but then again I’ve made similar points and given myself similar deadlines a million times in the past, and I’m still here.

The intricacies of loneliness and solitude lead to another convoluted pattern of inadequacy: people my age have kids who are starting to go to school. Not that I want kids, because I don’t; I just don’t think I’d be a good father. But I don’t even have someone to consider them with, or someone I could share beautiful moments with. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me much: I have freedom, and my introversion thrives in it. Yet I’d like to be less alone, especially as I am indeed alone: other than my parents and my cousin, I have virtually nobody. Sure, I do have a few friends as I said, but it’s not the same; it’s not what I mean. And yet I don’t even put myself in any situation where I could meet someone; I used to do it online at least, now I don’t even do it anymore. I feel so worthless most of the time that even hiding my looks isn’t enough anymore; I feel like I’m uninteresting even through a screen. Or perhaps I don’t want to delude anyone into thinking I’m potentially interesting, and then they meet me and get disappointed. I think that’s also why, subconsciously, I have been postponing meeting in person a few people I really, really care about: I don’t want them to get disappointed at all, even though there’s no plan of going beyond a friendship. And this also leads to my life generally being wasted: at the age I am, I have very few social experiences on my life’s résumé, and I’m too old to catch up. Take recovery after heartbreak: I know people who have been single for just a few months and are already jumping into new relationships; I’ve gotten my heart broken almost two years ago the last time, and I’m still figuring things out. And the social demands of being in a typical relationship freak me out; I would quickly become not worth the hassle for anyone, but again such habits are deeply rooted into my own subconscious, and as the proverb goes, you can’t teach old dogs new tricks.

And that’s what’s starting to scare me. Time goes by, and I have seen very smart people make very poor decisions. I am starting to get concerned that at some point my rationality may go out of the window and I may get involved with someone just because they seem to be decent, and wind up even more unhappy than I am.

The worst part of all of this is that I rationally know that I am my own worst enemy. I am the one preventing myself from doing this and more. People tell me I’m good at things, which I suppose I am despite my impostor syndrome, yet I am my own roadblock when it comes to social life. I could get behind the wheel tomorrow if I wanted to, I could hop on a bus and meet people tomorrow if I wanted to, I could ask a girl out tomorrow if I wanted to. Yet I don’t, shooting up yet another dose of false safety, just because I will never fail if I never put myself out there. But the clock is ticking and I’m starting to feel like I’m running out of time.

2017-09-29

Faces of depression

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , — Inmate #840528 @ 08:16

I’ll just leave this here.

September is National Suicide Prevention Month, and throughout the last few weeks, Instagram has become flooded by empowering survival stories. A new hashtag, #faceofdepression, is adding an important layer of depth to the widespread conversation, and it’s one we simply can’t ignore.

What does a depressed person look like? What does someone with suicidal thoughts look like? Many of us would probably picture a crumpled up, crying shell of a person on a bathroom floor. The reality that #faceofdepression is trying to explain, however, is that people struggling with mental health issues often hide it in their everyday lives – meaning that they look like just about any other person you’d pass on the street.

https://www.boredpanda.com/face-of-depression/

2017-09-17

Would anyone even notice?

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , , , — Inmate #840528 @ 10:35

I don’t have many friends. I never have, really. Most of my friendships are born online, for a variety of reasons; mostly, it’s easier for me to feel at ease without the added fear, or anxiety if you will, of being judged for how I look, or how I dress, or how I move, or how I speak. Moreover, I’m an introvert and I just don’t do well in social situations, so I simply have few opportunities of meeting new people, especially since I finished my school cycle. Working from home is cherry on top, but that’s something I actually welcome. The thing is that is even when I have the chance to be social, I am not the kind of person who will strike up a conversation with strangers. Being an introvert nerd, my interests lie with the deep, and I’m given to understand that it’s inappropriate to discuss the question of life, the universe and everything with strangers.

So most of my friendships start online, and sometimes, if distance allows, they become physical; they don’t have to in order to be real, mind, indeed I have had far more honest friendships with people I never had the chance to meet than with people I had spent years going to school with.

And yet, the allegedly “more real” part of friendship, that is the meeting up and doing things together, often leaves me sorely disappointed. I am very easily forgotten. Oftentimes attempts to meet up, with all the best intentions, wind up into nothing. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly. There are people who claimed to care about me and wanting to meet me who never found a few spare hours in over a year, despite us living a couple dozen kilometers away; on my end, my only request was to be told at least one or two days before as I have work arrangements to deal with, but other than that , I’m generally easily available. In all fairness, however, I have had appointments I took a raincheck on due to sudden anxiety, though I’m working on that because sometimes forcing myself is all I need to have a very good time. I’m thinking about one person in particular here, who is actually currently going through some problems, and whom I would love to help out if only I could. That also makes me feel even more useless: I rationally know it’s just how it is, from my own experience, but my subconscious disagrees.

The worst part is when such things happen even online. With a few notable exceptions, I’m the one who always initiates a conversation with others. Perhaps it’s laziness on their part, knowing I will look for them. But it’s hard not to think that if I didn’t look for them, they would not look for me either. And sometimes, in a bout of psychological self-harm, I do just that: I stop looking for them and see how long it takes until anyone looks for me first. It is true that some don’t out of respect, because they know that my response to being overwhelmed is to withdraw, and I appreciate it. But at the same time, after a while, it simply becomes evident that I’m easily disposable.

If I’m around, good; if I’m not, who cares? But is it even good at all if I am around? It makes me wonder. It certainly doesn’t help my self-esteem to be made painfully aware that I may disappear, and few would even notice until much later.

2017-09-09

Pandora’s box

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , — Inmate #840528 @ 10:06

I’m really tired. Physically, too. Since I took a week off over a year and a half ago I haven’t really ever stopped working. I work into the night, I work during weekends, I am forced by the very nature of my job to keep odd and, especially, random hours. I never know when work will come so I cannot plan for anything, and my past experiences lead me to being unable to just say “screw it” and taking a day off. It’s frustrating, I feel like I’m deliberately enslaved to work, and that’s because nobody is forcing me. But the flip coin of the nature of my job is that it may end without warning: there may be fewer clients, I may be removed, something, really anything, may happen, so I’d better do it while it lasts. And the worst part, really, is that working actually makes me feel better. It makes me feel less useless, if anything; I don’t know if it’s because I’m generally good at what I do so the occasional positive feedback is a huge reward, or just because I’m making money and it helps offset some of the anxiety that comes from expenses, considering that I often wind up having to help my family with their own expenses, something I am not really supposed to do, but then again what can I do? I’d rather sacrifice my own life and be resigned to it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my life. People I know tell me that I’m great at many things: I taught myself languages, music, computer stuff, I can do technical things that for many of them are virtually indistinguishable from magic (their words, not mine). Yet when I think about myself I see nothing good. I don’t like the way I look: some things I cannot change, but some I could and yet I don’t even try. I am unable to do things that are the norm for virtually everyone, things that I know I would be able to do if only I got out of my comfort zone just a little bit, and that would bring immense rewards to my life as a whole. Then again perhaps that is the problem. It’s not just fear of failure; I’m actually not afraid of failing in itself, if anything I’m bothered that others may judge, even though I know it’s nobody’s business. But mostly, perhaps I’m afraid of the newfound freedom I may find, or that it may overwhelm me and I may wind up in my own little corner of cozy sadness I’ve been hiding in for so long, which in turn would lead to judgment by others, which in turn would fuel my sense of being an utter failure (and disappointment to others).

I have been watching Kati Morton’s videos on YouTube. She’s a therapist and has a very nice attitude, and discusses many conditions on her channel, giving suggestions as well. It’s not a replacement for actual therapy, but since I cannot get it right now for various reasons, at least it helps in understanding what’s wrong with me, so to speak. And I’m learning that I’m quite the basket case, or at least I’m quite a mix up of things. A lot dates back to my childhood, obviously, and that’s exactly the problem. When Morton speaks about certain things and reassures the viewer that it’s normal to feel a certain way, and that it can be worked out, it actually hurts. It hurts because I cannot seek that sort of help at this time, but also, and especially, because I do not want to open up. I have stashed a lot of hard-to-deal-with stuff in a metaphorical box and hid it at the back of my mind. Nobody, literally nobody, knows all that’s in there, possibly not even me. And I don’t want to open it. It would be like opening Pandora’s box, really. I’ve worked so hard to put that stuff aside, and if the past is the past, then what’s the point? You can’t always get closure, can you? I learned to accept that when I lost a very close family member in a very painful way: ifs and buts cannot change the past, so what is the point? And yet I feel like I should probably find a way to open that box and face all that’s inside, now that I’m older and may be able to process it. But what if I can’t? What if it overwhelms me and breaks me for good? How would I ever recover from that?

2017-08-15

Anxiety

Filed under: Blog — Tags: — Inmate #840528 @ 22:28

For some people, anxiety is a feeling they can easily recognize when they get it. There’s a before and an after. Anxiety, and no anxiety.

For some of us, anxiety is a constant background noise against which everything takes place. You don’t notice that it’s there all the time, it’s not like a limb that suddenly starts hurting and never gets better. Continuous anxiety feels like it’s becoming milder, but it’s just because you get used to it. If by any chance it gives you a break, it feels weird, because you notice it’s not there, the opposite of most people. But it’s not the same anxiety as the one most people feel at some point or another, it’s not a strong burst of worry or concern about something. It’s the sort of anxiety you become friends with because you realize it’s going to always be there, so it’s easier than fighting it. It literally becomes part of you.

2016-09-11

A thought experiment

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , , , — Inmate #840528 @ 14:16

What most “sane” people seem to be unable to understand is that dealing with depression, anxiety and paranoia is not something that people like me choose to do. We can’t just shut it down. Telling us to “just try to get better” simply doesn’t work, because we have no control over it. We certainly don’t enjoy it and even though some people may pretend to be depressed for attention, the ones truly dealing with this would love nothing more than to be free from it.

Paranoia in particular is a the root of all evil, at least for me. I don’t mean paranoia in the medical term: I don’t suffer from delusions that someone’s out there trying to kill me, or anything of the kind. I mean it in the more colloquial sense of the term: I often second-guess myself to the point of causing things that, had I not worried about them happening, would have no happened. For instance, I read between the lines when I talk with someone (be it in person or on the phone or online) and the smallest thing in their responses will set my concern off. Did I say something wrong? Was I misunderstand? Did I come across as an asshole? A while back I decided to go for a full-disclosure policy: with those people I am closer to and open with, I will just say it immediately: “just to be clear, I meant it like that”, or: “just to be sure, are you okay with what I said?”, occasionally poking fun at myself: “my paranoia says hello”. Now, to be perfectly clear — see, it’s happening right now — it’s not like I’m constantly second-guessing every single word I say or hear, nor I pester everyone I talk to with requests for confirmation. But it is a thing with me, and it has caused problems in the past. Especially for the less patient, it can quickly grow old; and several people lost interest in dealing with me because of that, directly or otherwise.

The line between paranoia and anxiety is very, very thin. Paranoia is more about the “perceived perception” of me by others, and it fuels anxiety. The thing is: those who never experienced it are simply unable to get it. Just like a dog can smell the individual ingredients of a hamburger one by one, we can’t even understand what that’s like: to us that’s just the smell of a hamburger, with minor differences between one hamburger and the next. That’s why it’s so difficult for me to even admit it, let alone fix it. How do you fix something that’s always been part of you? It’s like telling a color-blind person to just try to see red; they don’t even know what red is.

Lately I’ve tried an experiment. I would consistently apply the “worry tree” that a friend suggested to me a while ago, and see if it made any difference. This is what that is:

Worry Tree

I generally find the whole idea of “self-help” stuff a ridiculous hoax, but this makes sense. The problem is: how the hell do you apply that kind of thing? Because, see, my problem is that when my paranoia hits, I am fully aware that I’m being paranoid and irrational. I know it, I can see that I am making no sense, that I am overreacting and overthinking, yet I have no idea how to stop it, and that makes even more frustrating, and leads me to feel like I’m a broken person with no hopes of ever being normal. Fighting your own brain is tough.

So I came up with a little trick: what would I tell someone who came to me and told me they are in the same situation I’m actually in? How would I react? What would my suggestion be? My idea was: if I can force myself to look at the situation from the outside, I may be able to talk some sense into myself. Note that this has nothing to do with multiple personality disorder or anything of the sort, which I’m thankfully spared of. It’s just a way to try and see the bigger picture.

A little aside is needed here. For one of my jobs, I have to undergo a monthly evaluation of some work I have done earlier in the month. This is generally nerve-wracking, especially as I am not told when the evaluation is coming; I can generally tell what work is going to be evaluated, but I don’t know when the evaluation itself will be. That usually propels me into a spiral of anxiety, because my ability to continue working for this company depends on that evaluation. This is anxiety, not paranoia: it’s not about how I am perceived, it’s “merely” about my financial future. I often feel like I just wish the evaluation were sent already, regardless of the outcome: good or bad, I’d be out of misery either way.

After the evaluation did come last month, I felt relieved and decided to apply the aforementioned trick, with a twist: I would focus on the positive things in my life. Just like I’m rationally aware I’m being irrational when paranoia and anxiety hit, I’m also rationally aware that things are going pretty well for me, especially compared to a few years ago. I have enough work to be able to make impulsive purchases if I want to, and I’m doing well at all my jobs. I’m also good at what many things I do, and several people look up to me as an expert, if not an authority, in various fields. The problem with anxiety is that all of that fades out as soon as one minor negative thing pop up: I can have a thousand people telling me I’m great, but one minor critique will be all I focus on. Again, this is not something I choose to do, and not something I enjoy; it’s just how I am, as hard to believe as that may sound to some people.

I didn’t take notes so I can’t make a list of the positives, but for a while it worked. The evaluation had gone well. The new work to be evaluated later this month was simple enough (something to remember when I get anxious in a few weeks). I am improving my skills at something I have been practicing. I fixed several technical issues I was having. I have been studying a few things, which always makes me happy. Sure, a few bad things happened: a conversation with a friend went a little badly and they were bummed by my answers (I’m deliberately using “they” to avoid saying whether it’s a male or female friend), but after clarifying what I meant, I stopped worrying: if they insist in misunderstanding me, it’s not my problem. I had a little hiccup with one of my jobs: it happens, I’m human, the company still appreciates my work and knows that it’s bound to happen every now and then, so I tried to put my perfectionism aside: it took a lot of effort because, as I said, a minor problem overshadows a million great things, but I managed.

But then something started making it all more difficult. Maybe it’s the weather — gloomy weather makes me very sad, for various reasons I won’t get into right now — or maybe it’s just that this kind of thinking is tiresome for me because it’s not natural, and it takes a lot of effort. Maybe it’s because the work that I’ll be evaluated on was less than usual, and I don’t know if more will come: if not, my evaluation may suffer, because one mistake will be statistically weigh more. Maybe it’s because my mind feels tricked by itself, and as I said, fighting your own brain is tough. I’m slowly reverting to the old habit of overthinking, overanalyzing and overworrying. I still have the worry tree firmly planted in my head, but it’s becoming harder to apply. What happens is that I start thinking: “well yes, maybe it’s alright and this person has a million ways to reply like that, maybe they’re just busy; but what if they are indeed bothered by what I said?”

There are many things that I know I have to work on, and I am fully aware that I may just never “become normal”. But it’s a start, and the early results of the experiment were encouraging. Perhaps it will just take some training, and it’ll become second nature to focus on the positive, even though it’ll still be something I’ll have to do on purpose. Look at me: I’m being somewhat optimistic. It’s raining and it’s dark outside, but it’s not a bad day. And that’s a huge thing.

Older Posts »

Powered by WordPress