Why is it some people always manage to make the right decision? I hate those people. I hate decisions. Most of the time I feel like no matter what decision I make it's going to be wrong somehow. Whether its what to eat, where to work or where to live. In one way or another it'll be wrong. Intellectually I know every decision has its pro's and it's cons and you make the best decision you can with the information you've got and you try to find the balance etc.
It's because I made a horrible decision once. A decision of total and utter selfishness which hurt somone else very badly. I made that decision for a lot of reasons and at the time I believed they were all correct and thinking back I still believe that. And yet it weighs on me every day and it cripples my ability to make decisions. I took the choice away from someone and ever since then I've not been able to properly make decisions, like I don't deserve to be trusted. Really I'm scared and I'm so insecure its pathetic. I should probably forgive myself but I just cant seem to do it.
Saturday, 26 May 2018
Trust
What is it that really hurts when someone breaks your trust? What is trust? Its saying to someone "You have the power to hurt me if you want to. Please don't". To give away that power is so personal and so risky that it seems crazy that anyone would do it. But it's the only way that you can have a chance of feeling truly connected to another person. You give each other that power and you both try not to use it. Then one of you does, and you question why you ever took that risk. Some people react to that like they would when burning a hand. Recoil, withdraw, shout, soothe the pain and then you try to never do it again. Wrap your hand in a thick towel so you never have to feel that burn again. Not me. I will not recoil. I will not hide from the heat. It burns now but it won't always. I won't let it control or define me. I won't let it change me unless it's for the better.
Why take the risk? Because its worth it.
Why take the risk? Because its worth it.
Tuesday, 15 May 2018
....and we're back.
I feel like I’ve been asleep for a long time. Not actual
sleep, haven’t had enough of that in years. The me who I think I am when I
picture myself. The guy who used to write on here. I’ve been sleeping, I’ve been comfortable, I’ve been content
and I've been lazy. But comfort is the enemy of progress and things are about to
get very uncomfortable, so now I’m awake. I am fucking well wide awake.
Monday, 18 July 2011
Work to live or live to work?
I find myself with a bit of a problem at the moment. It’s not an uncommon situation, in fact its remarkably common. I hate my job. I really hate it. It makes me miserable. I fell in to it when I was 19 and somehow 6 years have flown by without me noticing. That’s not entirely true, I have noticed. I’d say the rot really started to take hold about 3 years ago, but somehow around that time I got promoted and that eased the pain a little. Now another 3 years have ticked by and I feel like my life is just draining away with every moment I spend here. I spend most days just trying to keep myself distracted until I can go home, trying to go unnoticed in the hopes that everyone will just forget about me and leave me alone to while away the hours as I please. This just isn’t what I want to do. I don’t care about it. I feel it all the way to my core, I just don’t care about the bullshit that goes on and no matter how hard I try I cant make myself care. I know most people don’t actually care about their jobs, its just a means to an end. Work to live. Well I’m sick of working to live. I feel like when I’m working I’m dead in spirit and in mind. I’m sick of only living half my life.
In April I got given a new job. I didn’t ask for it and I didn’t want it. They just changed what I do and told me to get on with it. I didn’t like that. It really knocked the wind out of me professionally. Now I feel directionless, useless and a little bit scared that I can’t do what is now required of me. The worst part is that my peers all seem to have a better handle on it than me. I know they don’t actually care anymore than I do, they’ve just found that nut of motivation to drive them onwards and upwards. Good luck to them, I hope they get where they want to be, but it’s just not for me.
The answer is obvious of course. I should leave. Great. Then what? I can’t live on fresh air. Can’t go on the dole, those days are numbered. Get another job then. Great. Except the only thing I’m qualified to do is exactly the job that I’m doing now, which I hate. Awesome. Try to get in to another area?.....I don’t know what I want to do. There’s the nut of it all I suppose. If I had a goal to shoot for then it wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve thought a lot about going back to college to do something but I don’t know what and I’d still have to work at the same time and with one thing and another it’s just not feasible. But that’s another post for another day. All I can do for the moment is keep my head down, get on with it and hope for the best. It’s the same for all of us I suppose and it’s fucking depressing to think about.
So I’m feeling trapped and miserable and now I’m feeling the old guilt of having the audacity to complain about my crappy job as I sit here writing this in my comfy office chair which thousands of people would kill for a chance to sit it (Yes I’m writing this in work instead of working). It’s not like I’m mining coal here, what the hell do I have to complain about? Answers on a postcard please.
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Plus ça change, Plus c'est la même chose
Not sure what I’m supposed to be feeling lately. Everything changes but I don’t seem to. I’ve been rather happy lately thanks to a certain young lady but at the same time I’ve still been rather miserable and I don’t know why. Miserable isn’t the right word. More sort of numb, but not properly numb. It’s tough to describe. The more I want to go towards the happy feeling the more my defences kick in and try to make me retreat to safety. Trying to keep me inside my hard won buffer zone wrapped in emotional cotton wool. Its only when I’m alone though. With her I have more enthusiasm and pep and I’m happy. When im alone I return to my default state. I’m lazy and apathetic and I question everything I was feeling before. There’s some fucked up part of my brain that doesn’t want me to be happy it seems and wants me to think that other stuff isn’t real. Its only early days and I expect and hope my state will change but it plays on my mind. I guess im just so used to my way of life, so well adapted to it at this point, that im afraid that if I change up and things fall apart then it’ll be too hard to go back. Mustn’t be afraid to change. Change is good
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Fear and Nihilism in My Living Room
So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, though it’s mostly not been about myself. I’ve been thinking about someone else, someone who by all logic shouldn’t be around for me to think about, and that got me thinking about myself and how I can do better and be more honest about whats in my mind.
At the root of all of this crap posted below is just fear. Its why I’m lonely, its why I’m unhappy and its what holds me back every day from doing the things I’d want to do. So what am I afraid of?
I’m afraid of rejection and being hurt so I don’t get close to people. Nothing wildly original there.
I remember when my parents broke up, it was a horrendously traumatic time for me. I still feel the pain of crying and screaming down the phone for to my mother, begging her to come back, but she wouldn’t. I guess I took it personally. You cant tell a child that its not about them, its not their fault, its more complicated blah blah. There were a lot of days like that and that stuck with me. I’m 24 and that still hurts.
I’m afraid of being dependent on people. During that same period my Dad was not able to cope. Already crippled by depression he fell apart and became an alcoholic to boot. I assumed responsibility for him. He didn’t make it easy and he also made sure I’d never forget about him or leave him. Phrases like “If you leave I’ll burn the house down” and “I’d be dead without you” still run through my head sometimes, as do attention grabbing stunts like trying to hang himself on the stairs or slitting his wrists. It was a few years before he pulled himself together enough to survive on his own. Now I have this need to be needed, but at the same time I’m so disgusted by the idea of assuming responsibility for someone again that I’ll avoid any risk of getting in to that situation. Also I refuse to put other people in situations where they might feel some kind of responsibility for me. I’d rather always stand alone than risk becoming weak like that.
You know what though, there’s a side of me that doesn’t give a shit about any of that. A cold unpleasant side that says it doesn’t matter, it may as well have never happened, it doesn’t even exist outside of your mind. It’s not real and neither are you. Most days it’s that guy that fucks me up. Its not angsty fear of rejection that keeps me welded to the spot both physically and emotionally. It’s an honest belief that none of it matters. In the big picture view I just don’t matter. When all this is dust what the fuck will it have mattered that some fat arsehole had a bit of a shit childhood. Why should I bother? What will I achieve. Does the whole concept of achievement even exist if you don’t assign it value first? Fuck. I’m going to make an effort to stop that train of thought before it ruins me for the next few days. Nihilism is like quick sand, the more you struggle the worse you make it because in that state of mind every action you take to improve, for want of a better term, your mental state is already void.
I wont go through it all but that line of thought always brings me back to the idea that I cant really know anything for certain, its all just guesswork and assumption somewhere down the line and I don’t like that. It makes me wish I could embrace blind faith. It seems so comforting. I can understand why religion is so popular on this rock. Could you imagine a world full of over thinking philosophers picking over every detail of everything? At least in religion you can have a sing now and then and go to sleep with sense of hope.
How the fuck did I get on to religion? This blog is terminated for the crime of going nowhere.
At the root of all of this crap posted below is just fear. Its why I’m lonely, its why I’m unhappy and its what holds me back every day from doing the things I’d want to do. So what am I afraid of?
I’m afraid of rejection and being hurt so I don’t get close to people. Nothing wildly original there.
I remember when my parents broke up, it was a horrendously traumatic time for me. I still feel the pain of crying and screaming down the phone for to my mother, begging her to come back, but she wouldn’t. I guess I took it personally. You cant tell a child that its not about them, its not their fault, its more complicated blah blah. There were a lot of days like that and that stuck with me. I’m 24 and that still hurts.
I’m afraid of being dependent on people. During that same period my Dad was not able to cope. Already crippled by depression he fell apart and became an alcoholic to boot. I assumed responsibility for him. He didn’t make it easy and he also made sure I’d never forget about him or leave him. Phrases like “If you leave I’ll burn the house down” and “I’d be dead without you” still run through my head sometimes, as do attention grabbing stunts like trying to hang himself on the stairs or slitting his wrists. It was a few years before he pulled himself together enough to survive on his own. Now I have this need to be needed, but at the same time I’m so disgusted by the idea of assuming responsibility for someone again that I’ll avoid any risk of getting in to that situation. Also I refuse to put other people in situations where they might feel some kind of responsibility for me. I’d rather always stand alone than risk becoming weak like that.
You know what though, there’s a side of me that doesn’t give a shit about any of that. A cold unpleasant side that says it doesn’t matter, it may as well have never happened, it doesn’t even exist outside of your mind. It’s not real and neither are you. Most days it’s that guy that fucks me up. Its not angsty fear of rejection that keeps me welded to the spot both physically and emotionally. It’s an honest belief that none of it matters. In the big picture view I just don’t matter. When all this is dust what the fuck will it have mattered that some fat arsehole had a bit of a shit childhood. Why should I bother? What will I achieve. Does the whole concept of achievement even exist if you don’t assign it value first? Fuck. I’m going to make an effort to stop that train of thought before it ruins me for the next few days. Nihilism is like quick sand, the more you struggle the worse you make it because in that state of mind every action you take to improve, for want of a better term, your mental state is already void.
I wont go through it all but that line of thought always brings me back to the idea that I cant really know anything for certain, its all just guesswork and assumption somewhere down the line and I don’t like that. It makes me wish I could embrace blind faith. It seems so comforting. I can understand why religion is so popular on this rock. Could you imagine a world full of over thinking philosophers picking over every detail of everything? At least in religion you can have a sing now and then and go to sleep with sense of hope.
How the fuck did I get on to religion? This blog is terminated for the crime of going nowhere.
Friday, 18 June 2010
Sunshine and Lollipops
Here’s a word I have trouble saying. Depression. It’s a horrible word to describe a horrible illness. One that I have long standing personal ties with, it’s a word that destroyed my father and my family and its one that I’ve thus far refused to admit applies to me.
But it does and I have to.
Depression can feel like fighting a losing battle. It’s like a recurring nightmare that you’re powerless to wake up from. Not only that but it’s a nightmare that you know is coming. If I may continue the nightmare metaphor a line longer, you know that when you go to bed you’re going to have the nightmare and it’s going to be bad but you can’t keep yourself awake forever and you know that too.
In non metaphorical terms that means that I know when its coming and I can’t stop it even though I try. Knowing that its coming can make it worse too. Once you get that sinking feeling you can’t not think about it. Its like playing “The Game” (sorry to any long term “Game” sufferers out there) its almost self perpetuating. It starts with a single thought, some trigger, and then the mental gears are in motion. I can slow it down by keeping myself distracted. Sometimes I try meditation and mental exercises to meet it head on and deflect it but that takes real effort. I cant always muster a defence. I’ve just come off the back of a really long and miserable fucking couple of weeks. To anyone who was watching me this past ten days or so they may not have suspected anything was wrong. I went to work, I talked, I laughed and I did the shit that I had to do. But I also stayed in bed for 12 hours a day, not because I’m lazy like I allow everyone to think, but because I didn’t see any reason to get up. I talked and laughed with friends and co-workers, but it’s the bits in between when I’m not talking or cracking wise that are significant because all that other stuff was just a screen. That’s me on auto pilot, survival mode, just getting through it. And no one notices. If they do then they don’t say anything. At one point I would have been proud that I put on such a convincing act but now I wish I hadn’t learnt these coping skills because it’s got to the point now where I don’t know how to turn them off and be honest with another person face to face about how I’m feeling. But then what am I supposed to do, burst in to tears in the middle of the office? There’s been close days I can’t deny.
“But Dave, why don’t you just cheer up!?” If you’ve ever said anything like this to someone then I hope you lose your legs in a car crash and spend the rest of your life shitting in a bag. Trying to fight depression is like trying to throw a punch under water. Intense effort, zero result. The only course of action I have is to wait it out. That’s what keeps me going, the fact that I’ve been in these states before so many times and eventually they ease off. It doesn’t go away entirely, not ever, but it fades in to the background so that it doesn’t own me anymore.
I know that I’m not alone in all this. There are so many people who feel the exact things that I feel on a regular basis but not everyone will or can admit it, and even fewer can express it. Even all this I’ve written feels woefully inadequate. I feel like my piddling little episodes are doing a disservice to all the real sufferers out there. The people whose lives have been taken over by an illness that they cant understand.
I’ve seen first hand what depression can really do to a life. What it can take from you. I know I’m not there but I’ve felt its shadow and my God I know the fear of it and I think that’s what drove me to writing these blogs. Even if no one is really reading this at least it’s out of my head where it can’t do any more damage.
But it does and I have to.
Depression can feel like fighting a losing battle. It’s like a recurring nightmare that you’re powerless to wake up from. Not only that but it’s a nightmare that you know is coming. If I may continue the nightmare metaphor a line longer, you know that when you go to bed you’re going to have the nightmare and it’s going to be bad but you can’t keep yourself awake forever and you know that too.
In non metaphorical terms that means that I know when its coming and I can’t stop it even though I try. Knowing that its coming can make it worse too. Once you get that sinking feeling you can’t not think about it. Its like playing “The Game” (sorry to any long term “Game” sufferers out there) its almost self perpetuating. It starts with a single thought, some trigger, and then the mental gears are in motion. I can slow it down by keeping myself distracted. Sometimes I try meditation and mental exercises to meet it head on and deflect it but that takes real effort. I cant always muster a defence. I’ve just come off the back of a really long and miserable fucking couple of weeks. To anyone who was watching me this past ten days or so they may not have suspected anything was wrong. I went to work, I talked, I laughed and I did the shit that I had to do. But I also stayed in bed for 12 hours a day, not because I’m lazy like I allow everyone to think, but because I didn’t see any reason to get up. I talked and laughed with friends and co-workers, but it’s the bits in between when I’m not talking or cracking wise that are significant because all that other stuff was just a screen. That’s me on auto pilot, survival mode, just getting through it. And no one notices. If they do then they don’t say anything. At one point I would have been proud that I put on such a convincing act but now I wish I hadn’t learnt these coping skills because it’s got to the point now where I don’t know how to turn them off and be honest with another person face to face about how I’m feeling. But then what am I supposed to do, burst in to tears in the middle of the office? There’s been close days I can’t deny.
“But Dave, why don’t you just cheer up!?” If you’ve ever said anything like this to someone then I hope you lose your legs in a car crash and spend the rest of your life shitting in a bag. Trying to fight depression is like trying to throw a punch under water. Intense effort, zero result. The only course of action I have is to wait it out. That’s what keeps me going, the fact that I’ve been in these states before so many times and eventually they ease off. It doesn’t go away entirely, not ever, but it fades in to the background so that it doesn’t own me anymore.
I know that I’m not alone in all this. There are so many people who feel the exact things that I feel on a regular basis but not everyone will or can admit it, and even fewer can express it. Even all this I’ve written feels woefully inadequate. I feel like my piddling little episodes are doing a disservice to all the real sufferers out there. The people whose lives have been taken over by an illness that they cant understand.
I’ve seen first hand what depression can really do to a life. What it can take from you. I know I’m not there but I’ve felt its shadow and my God I know the fear of it and I think that’s what drove me to writing these blogs. Even if no one is really reading this at least it’s out of my head where it can’t do any more damage.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
