I’m so sick of being this. I hate being “me”. And yet I’m so attached to it, so stuck in my ways. I’m so full of hatred and resentment. I resent anyone with a happy life. Anyone who’s better than me. Anyone that gets to exist without this stuff going round and round in their head. But really, deep down, I just want to not feel this anymore. To be free of it.
But there is no freedom. Freedom would be non-existence. To let go of this self, with all its shame, fear, regret, longing, and return to the earth. And I’m not ready for that yet. I’m too attached, too afraid.
4 comments
I don’t fear anything and for some reason I can’t slit my wrist or hang myself, I feel my only option is to let accidents happen, go with the flow, if the bus is about to hit you close your eyes and keep going, thats my new train if thought.
Something is trying to keep us here but human will is pretty strong.
seems to me you’ve got a missing bit, and I don’t mean that as criticism, rather as hope maybe you can find it and fill in; most people have this bizarre attribute that allows them to develop affection for anything familiar. Simply because they understand a thing, that thing becomes appealing. It once baffled me, yet I seem to be getting more of it myself with age.
and that’s the only option; develop a tolerance perhaps even affection for what is. I find it to be a skill, the more practiced, the better one gets. Now, I’m able to rationalize back, so that it looks like I intended to arrive at where I am, when of course I didn’t. I see it in elderly people, they tell their life story as if there was some grand destiny, and I realize that of course they were dashed against rocks, awful things happened, they hated alot of it. they forgot the bit about hating it.
You will, unfortunately, have to endure yourself. Like a missing leg, or living in a harsh climate these are hard things. No one would deny you that. People do though. IDK, that’s what helps me. People do it, humans are tough resiliant little bastards, and damn it if they can, why not me? So tell me, if you can, why not you? Why not you to endure, perhaps even thrive?
The day may come someone else will come along and envy you! Now wouldn’t that be something. I think that would make it all worth it. If your struggle inspired someone else, that is.
I think probably a key part of contentment with ones lot in life is a sense of meaning. If your present seems significantly meaningful, then I think you can project that back onto your past struggles, and re-cast them in a positive light. I do lack that capacity, and I see no prospect of finding it.
The necessity of endurance is somewhat axiomatic. What cannot be changed must be endured, by definition. People suffer what they must, as long as they’re not prepared to accept the alternative (death). I don’t find much hope in that acknowledgement, but each to their own.
I will likely endure, as long as my fear of death outweighs my fear of continuing to live, and as long as the material conditions aren’t sufficiently challenging to overcome my weaknesses (I suspect that if/when society collapses, I’ll be one of the first to go.)
The problem is that though enduring is necessary, it feels intolerable – it’s not something I can accommodate my mind to. Hence the repetitive tedious posts on this fine website, and the endless cycle of low-level destructive behaviour. I’m enduring, but my heart’s not really in it. A large part of me wants out.
As for thriving, that would I believe require a significant source of meaning in my life. And I don’t think that’s possible for me. I’ve screwed up too much for anything to make sense. There’s so much shame and fear in me that it overwhelms anything else. I’m so ashamed of who and what I am that it outweighs anything I might do in future, thereby stripping it of meaning.
Some eccentric person may envy me from the outside, not realising what lies within. Anyone who envies my actual experience of reality is certifiably insane. I’m afraid the only value my struggles could have for others is as a warning. And I doubt I have the skill or the motivation to provide an adequate lesson, though I have attempted to do so on occasion.