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.