Letters to the Void

It's probably been long enough since I updated this site that unless I ask people to come here, no one will find this.... whatever this gibberish is about to be. Which is fine with me - I think I said in an earlier post that it can be somewhat comforting to post something publicly but not to a particular person. Shouting to the void, you might say.

I mean. I have been updating the site, in that when Drupal says it's time to get a new core I upload the files and such. But I don't myself write in it, and I guess I'm trying to determine why that is. I suppose there's a big part of me that feels that posting my feelings and pains and hurts and asking people to look is a silly cry for sympathy and attention. There's a lot of me that thinks I have nothing interesting to say. There's a chunk of me that has these vasty epic stories it wants to tell but can never finish. Because if you can't do everything, you've done nothing.

That's how my brain works, I set these lofty goals and decide I'm a failure when I can't accomplish them. My therapist is working on getting me to recognize the small victories but it's hard. I'm here because I guess the aversion to attracting attention and looking needy has been outweighed by my need to vomit my feelings all over the Internet. I've hit critical self-frustration mass. I mean, I'll keep this as positive as possible because otherwise it would turn into little more than a hateful letter to myself which I have been told is not healthy.

I'm exhausted living in my own head. The minutia of self-flagellating thinking I can put myself through is just insane. I question literally every action I take, second guess every word that comes out of my mouth, project every conceivable impact of my interactions with other people. My brain wants to analyze every minute of every day and somehow come out of it finding me lacking in some quality that other people seem to have in spades. I question my emotions, wonder if they are valid - or, even more batshit, whether I even deserve to be having them in the first place. I've been working on a bit of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy lately, the amount of effort I have to go through to get my thoughts lined up in a rational way is ... well, probably no more than anyone else. But it's FRAKKING HARD sometimes, and no wonder I try to escape my own head so much. When I'm stabbing some NPC in the back in Elder Scrolls Online I don't really have to wonder "would they have rather been stabbed in the front, or perhaps the side?". It's just a quest, you do a quest, you get the xp and the loot or whatever and move on with your life. Except I manage to take my micro-self-analysis into gaming when other people are introduced into the mix - like, if I get a kill in Heroes I wonder "Did I just steal that from one of my teammates" even though there IS NO last-hitting in Heroes and it DOESN'T BLOODY MATTER. I want to cry with frustration but I tell myself that I don't deserve to.

What if what if what if... into eternity. I wish I could just focus on What Is. What IS is that I have friends who care about me, I shouldn't be constantly wondering if I'm actually an irritation in disguise. What Is is that I'm good at my job, why should I live in constant fear of being written up or fired? What Is is that I've made some great personal victories in the last year, but I dwell on what I haven't achieved.

Side note: remember the days when people would program their MySpace pages to start playing a song whenever someone visited? If that wasn't annoying as all fuck the soundtrack to this rant would be Sonata Arctica's Full Moon. Yeah. MYSPACE. I'm hella old.

I've been trying to pinpoint exactly what in my past created the firestorm of self-loathing and doubt that is me. Because yes, I am on medications for anxiety/depression but a chemical imbalance can't completely explain the shitfire that lives in between my ears. Yes, sometimes I'm sad for no reason but most of the time I can pin it down to feeling sad because I truly believe I suck and am worthless for some (usually factually untrue) reason. Sometimes I'm so nervous my hands shake and my chest feels like it's caving in, but that's usually a targeted response to being around people in a situation where I cannot control the outcome.

I can't really deconstruct why I am the way I am without fault-finding in some way, shape or form - we all have events and people that sculpt our personalities. And I just don't want to do that, because to do that is to admit that no one is perfect. Which means I'm not perfect. Which is terrifying for some reason. Even though I have this messed-up vision of Perfection (a Platonic form, if you will) that I'm constantly measuring myself up to and finding the holes.

I do my best to accept people the way they are, to truly believe that they are Perfect simply because they exist. But I can't do that with myself. Unless I concentrate really hard on it. Which is tiring.

Alright, I'm gonna call this To Be Continued, because I still have feelings that have yet to be splattered on the canvas that is the Internet but I want to go play some Heroes.

Look! Buttons!

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