Alright, this Eric woke up feeling straight-up depressed.
I also heard something I wasn’t supposed to.
And first thing I did was analyze why the reality was presented the way it was.
More than take insult.
But Rajeev is a good example.
Was so right about Rajeev, wasn’t I? The most cynical reaction I had about the effect of his idealistic behavior came to reality.
I wish that was dramatic, but that’s exactly as it happened.
And now my mind’s coming up with a bunch of anxieties and double-takes instead of pleasures Haven’t felt this way in years. PreDisjuncture and the idea for it. Laying in bed feeling like a pariah. It’s all sad bullshit, and I’m posting about it because lows are part of life and being human. It’s a shame if I have to make it personal, and if those who know me when I get affected, I think most know it’s not my personality to emo. But that’s not to say anyone’s invulnerable. And it’s what you do with it.
Here’s what I notice:
Won’t sleep more than 3 hours in a row. Takes more to not slump as I walk and, if I do slump, feels like a 2 mile per hour deathmarch. I get imaginings of some horrible things and that feels more like a genuine feeling than most of the other things I do express feeling to throughout the day. Anhedonia: can easily walk away from games midmatch. Things like my cat seem more like background rather than a thing that makes me feel warm and fuzzy (until I recognize the cat and remind myself that it’s a creature that actually is connecting.) Have to make myself eat (and then I won’t lie, it’s usually delicious) but I’ve gone several nights just on a sad liquid dinner because I remember to crave rum or tequilla, but not food. Oh yeah, able to get distracted from my own issues and thoughts IF I drink. Alcohol somehow breaks down the thought processes that make me miserable for a bit, and makes my brain dumb enough to go “nah I’m too dumb right now lol, put it on the backburner.”
Right now I feel like it’s more important to feel sharp than, good and dumb.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H53q4K3D9V0](It’s funny how naturally and consistently I refused a drink when I was getting into doing something really hard and well. Cause I had personal reason to refuse, and I’m starting to see positive reason to again.)
Truthfully, a hole worked out for me the first time – over 1.2 years I pulled my way out out of a similar slump. Took a lot of determined and private soul seeking and time and resources. I found that inserting myself in a team dynamic and letting talent shine, developing it as skill, contributed something, made everyone’s life better, and in the end I felt super valid. New. Whole.
We all crave that feeling. In some form. Even if it’s not a team thing, I know that people need certain kinds of shared experiences in life to feel alive. Even dangerous ones. With the right people.
(I also did a lot of life changing stuff in the process that I’m glad I did today. I guess it’d be more depressing if I was a discontent who’s been crushed and beaurocratized still in a government cubicle. I would also be a bigger, dumber egoist today if I didn’t fall into a hole before, and I know this.)
After learning this, next came disjuncture. That’s the point of disjuncture and why I get horrified with the idea of mucking that too much to the point where it won’t become a huge share.
And you know, I sort of need that. We live in a world where sharing the above can cause more harm than sharing the lesson from it can cause good in your relationship. Hey, Old Boy was largely about how you had to rise above your losses on your own, because the world would rather laugh with than cry with you.
There’s always a special thing about people who are willing to cry with you.
I think I’ve felt depressed cause I feel and see signs of being inadequate. Or like everyone should find less scary bullshit to tackle to make lives better.
(Hey, there’s a growing island made out of thrown away plastic refuse that’s killing the oceanic wildlife in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Studies have proven you can boost your self esteem better by saying no to extra plastic bags, more likely than you can depressed with a human’s bullshit who has depressed sense of effectiveness in the world.
^Writing that made me smirk. Good ole caffeine.)
And I’m not inadequate. Can rationalize that without coaching. (And see all sorts of blatant and subtle clues around here. Don’t need anyone to tell me how to think or much weight I should put on things in order to feel as blase as they do. But feels are real feels.)
But I’m weighed and measured by a lot. Deemed insufficient. This kills who I was turning into. Hard to say if that’s good or bad until I turn into something else.
I’m not going to bitch harder than that.
Bitch not about bitchy abysses;
Lest ye become a bitch yourself.
And the fact is fucking whiny sucks and makes me farther from the best.
Here’s my current dream time. There is a picture of hope I did wake up with:
I’m not in a place in life where I’m ready to fill a hole. I want to be clear, don’t just want a lifeline from anybody, and it’s very important to me that I’m a good, basic, hardworking person who puts my own shit together. I don’t want anyone to be my crutch, as if I’m crippled without. My goal in life is to feel as if I’ve earned and deserve something phenomonal. My phenomonelogical clock is ticking. So, not basic. Not normal. I always feel dissatisfied and lazy and like I’m passing when I settle.
Last night I had a boost where I felt like writing moar Bahamut. Big deal since I’ve wanted to do it every day since weds, but I just couldn’t in the last 60 hours unless it was on b.s. Then i got the boost after yes, feeling some hope and real connection for even a glimmer, and reasoning myself into it after stepping on metaphorical broken glass and not confronting it. 3 pages, and then I stopped midwork. I never do that.
But at least I started, and can continue today. But I know what King meant when he said he had his own tough time and afterwards, sat down and the words came – slowly at first – but then they began to come.
And this isn’t to tool myself out. I just want to make more bahamut (with its shamefully resonating subject matter of the protagonist, right now) and . . . be a producer and generator of a vein of life. So, maybe, I just don’t get to relax and take it in right now unless I’m ok with just stagnating as a blusterboy.
Which I’m not.
And I want to be clear, I think that’s most important, that I need to do that, more than people just, treat me differently because I’ve got feelings and don’t like something.
I feel depressed but I don’t feel like being sad. So there’re some things I have recognized, that I need to recognize, and some realities to consider and recognize.
Following – here are some easy ones I can be open about here: I don’t want a great computer to become a tv; don’t want a keyboard to become for self-defecating and aggrandizement; don’t want my music keyboard to become a set piece for a smoke stand. Don’t want relationships to become reflections of failure and pain. Don’t want video games to become set pieces for distractions, temporary distractions which take so much to fuel to stay those distractions. And finally I don’t want the letter I to be such a source of bullshit.
I could go on. I see the above as bunch of desire based statements from things I love. And I know no one wants me to sit here in a hole, except for people who live in a terrible hole in some level themselves. And they don’t count.
Plan time:
Live. Work. My best. Be ready. Don’t just be a whiny emo bitch. Relate and see the positives. This is a trial of the new years resolution (be realistic positive.) Do it. Don’t just make whiny bitch 1200 word entries about my feels. Learn. Refine imperfections. Do. More.
So anyway, that’s what I’m going through. I know some of what I want, but, I also think that if I get what I want that I still have a lot more to want to learn and live. I recognize I’ve begun to neglect some of life again, and that’s something I can’t allow myself to just do. (I think over the last 6 months I’ve been doing it, while learning to live fast and loose, and not thinking about what could be really important as much.)
(Gee, I wonder why Bahamut feels alive.)
It’s weird. Sometimes you do have to dwell in a cave – in isolation – to achieve a lil more. I think I need to work in the dark? I think I need to see signs of light and life, but that I also need to be trusted – by myself – trust myself – to work in a cave until I craft my own kinda lights in the universe.
I like how that’s a pun.
I’m going to get to work throughout a lot of today. I can feel the caffeine seeping in, and holy, holy, caffeine, I love you caffeine.
I feel much better now than at the start of this entry. Maybe it’s a positive upswing. Maybe it’s being able to recognize that I am in some ways Rick Astley incarnate, except much better looking.
(Think I’m a better dancer too.)
I don’t know how this positive buzz will last, but think my huge feels is a combination of all the things. In no order, I think I overtrained, basement means I have a house thing. Grandmother is shocking me into reality. Work. Life. Love. Dreams. Plans.
And in the end, words.
Which I’d like to do a little more than.
Anyway, words’ll always be there for ya as long as there’s life in the connections to make them.
Which’s why it’s time to make the donuts – really do something instead of putting energy into bluster.
/End rant.
It’s just where I am, although I see that maybe this entry’s too long, too.
Eric is the Best 