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?