Diary of a Prisoner No parole allowed

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.

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.

2016-01-23

Introversion and social anxiety

Filed under: Blog — Tags: , , — Inmate #840528 @ 01:11

Sometimes — pretty often, to be honest — I wonder how much of my current situation is caused by actual depression and how much by my innate introversion taken to the extreme.

I’m the living proof that introversion or extroversion are something you’re born with. My parents, to this day, still complain that when I was a baby and someone came visit, I’d scream like a police siren. I guess I never felt at ease around people, and that never really changed.

I mean, it’s not like I hate people. I’m not a psychopath. I just don’t feel the need to be around people most of the time, as I’m perfectly at ease with my own company. That may make me sound conceited and arrogant, but I don’t mean it like that. What I mean is that while some people get bored on their own, I’m just the opposite: I always have something to do, and more often than not, other people kind of get in the way.

This is not to say that I don’t occasionally wish I had people around me. Sometimes I do, and that’s when years of having virtually no social training backfire: I’ve made most of my friends online, and the geographically closest ones are still far enough that it’s not the easiest thing to get together anyway. You may wonder: why online? are you that scared of human contact? No, not really. It’s just that I live in a small town in the middle of somewhere in Europe, and I have peculiar interests — I’ve always been a geek — that virtually nobody around here shares. I will admit however that for me it’s easier to make friends online: I’m overly conscious of how I look, how I speak, how I move, and when I meet someone in person my paranoia switches to overdrive. It’s part of why I seldom go out. It’s easier for me to be myself when I know I’m not being judged by how I look or talk, but only by how I say. I’ve always believed that it’s what’s inside someone that matters, not their outer shell.

Of course, all of this is inextricably related. Sometimes I feel lonely and I have nobody to hang out with; and even if I do, I end up being uncomfortable as it’s not something I’m used to, which usually prevents me from really enjoying it; and I come full circle by wondering why the hell I even bothered in the first place, vowing that I’m done with this “meeting people” business for the time being. All introverts need time to decompress after being social, but I’m one of those lucky ones who need some extra time on top of that just to deal with all the anxiety that came with it.

The funny thing here is that my social anxiety is the quiet kind, as I call it. Well, it’s not funny at all, really. It’s actually the sneakiest kind of anxiety. Ask an anxious person what anxiety feels like, and you usually get the typical description of sweaty palms, increased heart rate, dry mouth, and so on and so forth. I’m not like that. My social anxiety takes place on a subconscious level, like having a kettle that’s boiling inside of me, whose vibrations I can feel but that’s just very slightly out of reach so I can’t shut it down. It’s really annoying, because I am perfectly able to tell myself that it makes no sense: why am I even nervous at all about going for a walk with Alice (or Bob, it’s really not a matter of gender) if we chat online so much? I can see myself from the outside, and I know that all that nervousness is my ancestral fight-or-flight response being triggered by something that’s objectively not dangerous at all, yet I can’t stop it. I can tell myself that it’s pointless but it won’t help, and so there’s a side of me that’s just nervous and anxious, and another side of me going “why must I be like this when I know better?”, and I end up getting annoyed at myself because of it, in a self-fulfilling prophecy that very often leads me to call myself stupid. That is pretty much the worst thing I can do, because all of this comes with enough self-loathing as it is. But I am fully aware that my social anxiety pointless and I can rationally see it, yet I really just can’t control it, no matter how I try.

At this point I’m sure that whoever’s reading this belongs to either one of two kinds of people. There’s those who are nodding and saying “I know exactly how this guy feels” and maybe are even relieved that they’re not the only ones going through these things. And then there’s those who never went through depression, social anxiety, who are not introverts yet not necessarily extroverts but just somewhere in between, and have no idea what I’m talking about at all. Those are usually either confused by all that I just wrote about, or maybe think that I am making this up, as a weird way of looking for attention. I will address this in detail in a future post, but for now let me just say that I don’t really blame them, even though it would be nice if they at least made an effort to understand.

The problem is that they expect to apply their own frame of reference to others, even though it simply cannot be done: it’s as if they were surprised that a color blind person can’t tell red from green; it seems to impossible to them that others may have such a condition, simply because they are free from it. Just like color blindness, depression and anxiety are conditions that can’t be detected from the outside. That’s what makes it so difficult to deal with them. That’s why there’s such a stigma that comes with it. That’s why some people think that those of us who are fighting this daily struggle, those of us who are locked in this prison, are just making it up. There are only two words for those who think we are faking it; two simple, short words: I wish.

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